Lyrics
I bounced out the house about a quarter to three
I grabbed my cellular phone, some bumblebee from M-D's
Playa-haters on the block, it don’t matter to me
I make G’s they all recognize the P
Popped in that B.I.G. coz «it was all a dream»
All a scheme to run with the ballin' team
I run through money like a counting machine
Stay clean in the collar, might whip up outtie in a Saleen
Sip that Hennessy from here to Tennessee
And anywhere in between, got Lynk Crew on the scene
Bet they got true playas in all the states
But it’s that Bay Area brother from the ballin' state
I been a hustlin-ass soldier since 83, wait and see
Old school partners they’ll be hating me
Playa-haters lay awake to «Creep» like TLC
Straight up, «I Saw it Coming» like EPMD
Let’s hear it for the cream, the triple-beam and the whole ball team
Paper-chase by all means
All these nationwide ballers they be callin' me, mang
Got them stories for sale, I’m in the game, boy
In the game (I'm in the game, boy!)
In the game, makin' mail
In the game (I'm in the game, boy!)
In the game with stories for sale (with them stories for sale)
(repeat)
Pay me a visit to Valle-Jo and even though I’m not from there
I got partners that recognize a Lynk Crew playa
A ghetto star, cleaner than the Board of Health
With a radar you still couldn’t see me like Stealth
So I’m out to the bone, I knew him from the «Money On» days
He used to clown but tell me, «be about your money always»
Wattup killer? Why you ain’t hollered at me?
Had to move up, no more Towallamie Street
What you know? I went from hustlin' to having it major
Puffin' bumblebee and reminiscing life on the razor
Used to look like only hard times was comin' my way
Now it’s hard rhymes and Alize everyday
It’s pimpin', I had to finally lay my cards on the table
You ain’t mackin' unless you got nine more in your stable
No more jail, double-digits, thousands on bail
In the game, makin' mail, got my stories for sale
In the game (I'm in the game, boy!)
In the game, makin' mail
In the game (I'm in the game, boy!)
In the game with stories for sale (with them stories for sale)
(repeat)
1−9 to the 9−5 I’m in the game like EA Sports
In it 'till I’m finished to win it and I’ll never fall short
On the ball, calling the game, mang, having things well
Player campaigning from the Bay to the A-T-L
Said we bailed to a Link party, sidin' a Vette
Bet I’ll have you going buck wild, drippin' in sweat
Cause the kid got 'nuff styles, give me much respect
They call me, «Airtight Eddie» the game is tough to check
I think back on how it used to be struggling for green
Had to juggle between hustlin' and living my dream
Bustin' raps in the bathroom, dreaming 'bout wealth
Can’t nobody give it to me, gots to make it myself
So now who put this together? Nigga, me, that’s who
Who do I trust? Who? Not you if it ain’t Link Crew
A young troop doing it for my soldiers in jail
In the game, stackin' mail, got my stories for sale
In the game (I'm in the game, boy!)
In the game, makin' mail
In the game (I'm in the game, boy!)
In the game with stories for sale (with them stories for sale)
(repeat)
Yeah do' yeah do
'The game gets thick on that you can bet
A real true to the game playa for sho' gone stack chips
Ha ha ha, yeah do'
That’s why I continue to represent
And fo' sho' get all the wealth I can get
Till my dyin' day I remain a Link Crew soldier
And it’s Young Ray Luv for the 1−99−5, represent
Playa' campaigning all year, ha ha, you know?
An' I’m out
(deep inhale) I’mma tell you right now
Wuzzat?
If the nigga got a phony tape, I’mma beat the nigga ass when I see 'im
Nigga, pass the motherfuckin' joint!
I’mma pass it motherfucker just wait for a minute!
Hurry the fuck up!
I wanna hear this shit!
Shit
The last tape he had was some cool shit
Yeah, was cool
But a motherfucker don’t want to hear all that ol' heeby shit
Fuck nah!
