Dope Game

Check one, check two, lets take a cruise
 I done did the game every which way but loose
 Nothing left to do except collect my cash
 And I bet that ass that the Mex gon' last
 Put the past on paper, threw away my pager
 Cuz these boys keep callin from locs to cookie baker
 Mama saved em from the hate, now I'm hard with the pain
 I'm in the place in your face tryin to sell you a tape
 I break records in Texas creepin in Caddies and Benzes
 And a pretender if he step up to the bullet bartender
 I bet I check and wreck a sucker riding bumper to bumper
 I might dump the whole clip and miss and hit your uncle
 I ain't trippin, flippin, sippin on purple Lipton
 Diggin women in the drop lemon, g livin
 I was driven to my last nerve, hittin curbs
 Puttin twenties on a grass hurst
 End of verse
 No shame
 Welcome to the dope game
 This is were we don't play
 Leave your boys with no brains
 Whoridas
 I remember long ago I never got no love
 Still I knew that one day I'd be popular
 I used to stand in the circle trying to smoke your bud
 Just hopin that the blunt wouldn't pass me up
 I used to ask for a sip of your syrup
 I used to never walk around with the white cup
 Now I eat eighteen steaks, on silver plates
 Girls fanin my face, others give me grapes
 By the grace of God, I was given the job
 To run through the rap game like corn on the cob
 So blessed in my test, I bought my sets in the southwest
 I ain't got no credit cards except Mexican Express
 I'ma dress my baby girl and rock the whole damn world
 If you needs tracks Happy P got my referal
 Your head twirl to the sounds of the SP Mex
 Ridin in the Lex with a dog named Plex
 Southside to the north, at the old golf course
 The valet the white Porsche with the bulletproof doors
 It's the L-O-S C-O-Y
 Pack the pistola, oh me oh my
 My nina shine like the sun, I never ask for a crumb
 For breakfast my chef makes me eggs-fuyon
 I've come from the hills of ghetto thrills and chills
 Three wheelin, dope dealin, killin nothin but squeels
 My third wish was to break this curse and myth
 Now I'm worldwide status on your satilite dish
 Punk checker, chump wrecker, got the salt and the pepper
 Left a mark in the game and never been a half stepper
 Leopard skin on my couch, be like Oscar the Grouch
 From the streets, pullin rocks out my kangaroo pouch
 But I told these boys, never at my house
 Whether it's the ounce that puts leather on my couch
 A thousand dollars a week, my baby girl's allowance
 Dope House bouncin cash to my forgein accounts