All It Takes

[Chorus 2x]
 A little bit of game is all it takes
 A little bit of game goes a long long way
 [Verse 1]
 Cuddie I dont sleep much, 'cause when I close my eyes
 I hear cries from my potna's who lost they lives
 Visions of bloody brutality's reality
 Gotta stay focused and hope it dont affect my salary
 Them calories, they keep my pockets fat, I got to stack a grip
 Try not to trip, and keep them gold diggers off my dick
 I'm gettin' sick 'cause I drink 24-7
 The way I'm livin' now, if I die, theres no heaven
 Gotta help my potnas in the pen 'cause they livin' broke
 This aint no joke, on parole and I cant smoke
 No sticky indo, roll down the window
 'Cause if I breathe(?) the task is back? like Nintendo
 Gotta play the game like a professional
 If you aint having money I got to let you go
 I need to let you know the rules before you?
 Rule number one potna, never should you pimpatrate
 I spit this pimpin' straight and cut no addatives
 Just nouns and adjectives, how mad you get dont mattter bitch
 I'm a player so I serve the game
 Maintain campaign, and have thangs
 [Chorus 2x]
 [Verse 2]
 Back in '92 I was drowned in them big cases
 But now its '97 and I'm counting them big faces
 I switched places with them sardines and squares
 The? fillet mignon, and garlic bread
 A hard head, big heart, and gorilla nuts
 Got me mobbin' thru the bay like I dont give a fuck
 I'm whipped, equipped, and stay dipped in butter sauce
 Pill if shes real, no scrill I cut her off
 'Cause fine ass bitches with the empty bank book
 Is worse than them ugly muthafuckas who cant cook
 My game cooked for five years in the feds
 Now its time for these game hungry niggas to get fed
 I get bread, so them suckas down me
 Smile in my face but clown me when they not around me
 Talk down on my every move, but I couldnt give a damn
 Playas do what they want, and suckas do what they can
 [Chorus 2x]
 [Verse 3]
 7-5-70, my DOB, uhh
 And I've been breakin' hoes since '83, what?
 Money makers manual, handle my business discretly
 Dont give my home phone number out, beep me
 'Cause aint no tellin' who be tellin', or who they tell
 And plus I heard that they be sellin' kinfolk the yayo
 Boy get your mail, dont act like your lil sista
 If you lackin' in this mackin' boy I bet you fist her
 Get some get right as I come tight to this Doo Doo Dumb
 Track, that cat K-Lou, knew how to come
 With Mac Dre, that 3 C veteran
 More game than March Madness, and dope as exederin
 Hit big licks, wouldnt pull no small capers
 I'm a be a dog and stay up like wall paper
 Look at these break bitches like they stank
 Collect my bank and stay sharp as a shank
 [Chorus]