Spice 1

Spice 1 - Recognize Game lyrics

Your rating:

Ice T Intro:
 Well alright. Spice 1 in the hiddouse
 (and Short Dawgs in the house bitch).
 WIth the L.A. Players (soldiers to the game you know?) Yeah.
 (Peep game fool).
 Ant Banks at the crackhouse
 ha ha ha better recognize game when it's in your face bitch).

 Ice T:
 It's obvious mad cash got me gassed
 Shark tanks and views millionaire cruise buying cars in twos
 "Never lose" my motto since birth
 Double up knots and crack spots
 Snitches lead out by silence gun shots
 Map the area I wanted to cut the fuckin' cops a deal
 if they don't kneel, They get peeled
 Bitches recognize I never have no drama with death
 Bustas always try I leavin' 'em gagging spittin' up flem
 Take a pen make a mil and if this shit don't sell
 I still got the street powder back to flippin' flower
 South Central nigga what?
 The representer, damn your girl seen me comin' and ran
 Young enough to be my daughter
 My posse use to flip her like a quarter
 To state to my man for man slaughter
 Caught her in the stairway took her out the fairway
 Trunked the punk bitch (That's fair play)

 Hook:
 You've got the gangstas that I have tangled baby
 Bitch recognize game when it's in your face
 "Well alright ch'all" "ha ha ha"

 Too Short:
 You think the town rid of Short?
 You must be crazy, that silly shit you talkin' just don't faze me
 I could make a phone call and just like that
 A bunch of niggas from Oakland all on your back
 I've never been a shot caller just a nigga in a crew
 They call me Too Short but I'm still bigger than you bitch
 I been around you can take a turn but don't get burned
 I've seen the tables turn
 Marks turn into killers rich niggas go broke
 Use to be a wanna but now I'm old school Short
 In the game never had the stacks since age 14
 I been spittin' these raps soakin' up the game up
 And even when I came up I fucked with same folks
 Still did the same stuff
 Bitch Short Dawgs in the house
 I know you want my dick cause it's all in your mouth

 Hook

 Spice 1:
 Picture the game as a quarter toss it up in the air (uh ha)
 Heads or tails win or lose broke niggas are players (x2)
 Say what up to the S.P. crooked I.C.E.
 Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me
 Potna don't get it twisted up I got hollow tips extended clips
 Major chips lookin' at Eclipse jacussi dips
 Niggas step back I don't know you
 Don't get to close to me
 Some niggas ain't really the motherfucker they suppose to be
 Cloud killers don't aim until you shoot in the air
 Better put it down and brake some hoes off like a true player
 Phoney as three dollar bills niggas ain't recognizin'
 Fell in the relapse besides I'm a trauma a nigga
 Look in the eyes and when you see me I be hardcore
 What the fuck a real nigga gotta lie to kick it for?
 I'm tired of these bubblegum ass niggas
 throwin' monkey wrenches into the game
 And all the players and pimps feel my pain
 Hustlers maintainin' riches and keepin' presidentals
 Not artfical with fishin' niggas know I'm packin' missles
 Get me two Bentleys some houses Johnson jet skis
 Ballin' till I die nigga don't fuck with S.P.I.

 Hook
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Zomba Recording Corporation

Details:

Released in: 1997

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found