Think It's A Game Lyrics - Beanie Sigel

(feat. Jay-Z, Freeway, Lil Chris) 

(Chorus: Saint Nick) 

Think it's a game 'til them thangs come out 

I bang out 'til your brains hang out. 

. cause you're fuckin with a gangsta nigga, a gangsta nigga 

Think it's a game 'til them thangs come out 

I bang out 'til your brains hang out. 

. cause you're fuckin with a gangsta nigga, a gangsta nigga 

(Beanie Sigel) 

It was a, full moon in the beginnin of March 

Bout the end of Winter '74 

The gangsta was born, introduced to sinnin and spinnin women 

Cats with big hats slammin Cadillac doors 

Who choosin hoes, you losin hoes, you niggaz loose witcha hoes 

You motherfucker y'all ain't used to no hoes 

Niggaz wanna LoJack, track your bitches, shack your bitches 

I pimps up, smack my bitches 

You wanna fuck trick your bitches 

I duck flip my bitches, get that cash with that extra ass bitch 

Plus I keep a gat at arm reach 

You ain't no hustler youse a car thief, nigga where your car keys? 

Crack topic, back block it 

Thirty-one long black top it, you can't stop it, gat top it 

Black Mack, black glock it, blast rocket 

Sit your faggot-ass on your back pocket (bitch) 

It's not a game, prick 

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(Chorus) 

(Jay-Z) 

Straight gangsta nigga. uhh, uh-huh-UHH-UHH 

Straight gangsta nigga. yeah 

They call me, Hov' the hustler, dough doubler 

Drove customers crazy in the late 80's, early 90's 

Now you can find me, girlie behind me, holdin my mink up 

Ice pinkie ring in the air, drinkin my drink up 

Top down, 'dro in the air, blowin that stink up 

It's seldom that I smoke, but it helps my thinker 

Makes me a, mathematician about my math 

Get celebrity ass, I'm a statistician - rap with precision 

Nigga, your hoe chose Hov', that's rapid division 

Now divide yourself and slide 

I, young Vito, voice of the young people 

Mouthpiece for hustlers, ventriloquist for jugglers 

Took it where few went, made a few cents 

Don't call me Hov' no more, call me _The Blueprint_ 

Sold dope (and) sold crack (and) sold soap (and) sold rap (and) 

bought Bentley's, bought 'em back, nigga can you buy that? 

Photos 

(Chorus) 

(Freeway) 

Purpose for man - worship Allah, then you die 

Purpose of my gun - run in yo' shop and take pies 

Purpose of my son - raise him to do the same 

Clip blazin it through your brains 

Strip, use it 'til it's burned out 

Benz Coupes, Jags and trucks when we roll out 

Man it ain't no lie, it's real as this four-five 

And real as these five salaats, whether we Deen or not 

Our kids gotta eat, red Beamer stops 

where your connects gotta meet, interrupt your cop 

Dependin on the dope size, we slide it from (?) size 

With hammers with hollows you feel we follow we're both risin 

They killed your cousin you strapped and you won't ride and 

don't think cause I rap that I won't (?) 

Play O-Dog in _Menace_ and drive-by men 

Real gangsters keep a bitch in the wheel, workin the gas tank 

Hoes on the strip, bringin that cash in 

(Chorus) 

(Lil Chris) 

It's C the young gunner, they call me the boy wonder 

Without that caped crusader, that cake is major, uhh 

Nickel plate stay with it, except for in school 

Metal detectors in school, for every last nickel get moved 

Fucked every bad little bitch in the school 

Good with math but I skipped it in school 

Ankle to shop but I'm sick with them tools 

Shit, that's why I'm kicked out of school 

Fuck J's by da locker, come and holla, uhh 

Out on my own, movin out with the chrome 

And can't nobody take me out of that zone, not even A.I. 

It ain't even a business, it's just the way I 

get it consistantly, flip it until the day I'm gone 

Scream beef any day and it's on 

The same Chris dangerous with a eight in my palm 

And been paid since the day I was born 

But these lames think it's a game 'til them thangs is drawn, uhh 

(Chorus)