Uh...

Yeah.. yeah..

Yeah.. yeah.. yeah..

Know the game!



[x2]

You ain't got to lie to me

Ain't got to lie to me

You ain't got to lie to me

Ain't got to lie to me

You ain't got to lie to me

Ain't got to lie to me

You ain't got to lie to me

Ain't got to lie to me



[Grand Puba]

Everything was good, we signed up on the dotted line

Bullshit advancement thinkin everything was fine

Up in the studio workin every night and day

For some strange reason, the work don't match the pay

Now I'm feelin like a slave, Kunta Kente

The A&R tellin me, what we can't say

Brand Nubian y'all on some different shit B

It's gon' be kinda hard to get y'all on MTV, yeah

Now we on a roll, promo tryna blow (Uh-huh)

Family can't see 'em, livin off bullshit pediem

Runnin around the country, assed-out and half-naked

Three niggaz splittin a dollar-fifty off a record

Listen here yo, this shit here better blow

Cuz we ain't gon' see no paper till they get back all they dough

From the studio, photo shoots and dough for clothes

Advancement and shit, and not to mention videos

The way we gon' eat, then we gotta do these shows

I'ma keep it real witcha, that's how this shit goes

The name of the game is "tough luck" if you don't know

I wish somebody woulda schooled me a long time ago

About the samplin and shit (Uh-huh)

How much those artists get

The mechanicals of royalties and publishin and splits

We was happy y'all just being on tour (Yeah)

Until we learned the game, then the attitudes inflamed

Household names, pockets didn't match the fame

And at the same time drop knowledge for your brain

Before you sit down and sip the Cris' and celebrate (Yeah)

Be sho' fo' sho' nigga that you got yo' business straight

Cuz once you sign on the dotted line it's too late

For the next five years, the recors label got yo' fate



You ain't got to lie to me...