[CL Smooth]

Introducing the Mecca fusion, physical type of funk using

Carmel cruising, brohter your latest lover smothered for deeper cover

Ass blown to breaks, individualized the fakes

Just because you're pouring syrup on this don't make it pancakes

My vocal assaults kept bouncing many amounts that count slackness

Pete Rock's sounds of blackness

The dark guages the flavor I supply

Now it's do or die, others are rolling the chocolate thai

I rip holes in shows, then move flocks of foes in straight

The Devil will find a way to infiltrate, never pray

I hear the scandal that be couped up in my town

So now we "Gotta Get Away" like Bobby Brown

The women will call it two letters that are instrumental

I focus my eyesight and run it down your genitals

Another dame when I tear it out the frame

Then armageddon came, it's not a game, it's on



It's not a game, no, with the Pete Rock funk

When the kids up in the Vernon got the flavor

It's not a game, no, with the Mecca Don flow

When the kids up in the Vernon got the flavor [x2]



It's not a game when the Mecca Kane lucifer knows your name

Now I think I'm on the verge of black male growing extinct

Now my survival they libel the label homicidal

My spirits aren't idle, now you put your hands on the Bible

Now the opposite of my God is Nimrod

Taught by Master Faud, hard, now I'm pulling your card

We travel, unravel, dabble in the dopeness

A jam that make you want to know who wrote this

A sctipture from an odyssey, brothers in high velocity

And just like BDP, you know "My Philsophy"

Yeah here to outlast it, to never see the casket

A flute can make a snake rise up from the basket

So Pete Rock here we go, master the flow

(I don't want to be the last to know)

With the mellow funk tunes arriving with the card trainer plain

The black House of Pain, it's not a game, it's on



It's not a game, no, with the Pete Rock funk

When the kids up in the Vernon got the flavor

It's not a game, no, with the Mecca Don flow

When the kids up in the Vernon got the flavor [x2]



The lucci's mine like the summertime, and I'm a set it first

Leaving a hearse when my third verse loads up to burst

To blast, never to tresspass, going to funk, keeping the crowd touring

The lyric is born on any stage we're walking on

So non-believer meet the Mecca, be chopping 'em like a meat cleaver

The scrambling quarterback and I'm the wide reciever

I get past you, and when it becomes a war

I go hardcore, matador, then all the bull is on the floor

I look and find the level of crime the time that I decipher

I'm bagging any sniper put a ball in Peter's Piper

We made the album of the year, rememer the Source kicks?

We should have been larger but it's all politics

So (Why you wanna, uh huh, play your games on me?)

Cause you called me a factor, get your skully cracked

The truth is coming to take mine

You want to take away more stitches than a Frankenstein

In '93 me and the P.R. make the dough

The honeys are licking all over my 5 o'clock shadow

A meanace to society, the pistol-packing YG

Mecca's the name, it's not a game, so don't try me



It's not a game, no, with the Pete Rock funk

When the kids up in the Vernon got the flavor

It's not a game, no, with the Mecca Don flow

When the kids up in the Vernon got the flavor [x2]