Game Over

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Phat Kat] How the fuck you sound? Detroit make the world go 'round Pull up in big trucks, set up shop in your town Week later, my wolves straight lockin' it down We bust those lead pipes that make those loud sounds Lay down, clowns – I'll turn your smile to a frown Blowin' that good green, y'all chippin' in on that brown Y'all the reason foreigners scared to come to our town They homo veggie thugs, sportin' teddies and nightgowns Smackin' you little ballerinas down in the Lounge 200 pounds of pressure – man, I'ma miss ya A few hours later, the paramedics gotta get ya [Verse 1.5: J Dilla] Yeah, take his ass straight to a hospital He ain't know, Phat and Jay's the ultimate obstacle Can't fuck with it, it's impossible It's on and poppin' – you lost ya show, impostors [Hook: Phat Kat] All my East side, West side – say it again East side, West side (west side) niggas doin' the Flynn You're just a little boy, fuckin' with a man Call up them big fellas, never see you again While you lames tryin' to stay in the game, we playin' to win Didn't hear it once? I'll say it again While you lames tryin' to stay in the game, we playin' to win (win) [Verse 2: J Dilla] Phat Kat and Jay did it again – oh They can pretend while we get this dough All my hoes go and get it Pimpin' take shows from the host and go spin it I takes it from ya baby mama, I takes it from ya cousin I'll take it sober, also laid out at the motel when I'm buzzin' I make 'em, I break 'em, I came in the door I said it before – don't let it be short 'Cause it's not the game to play – no! It's not the game (hoe!) – it's just the way that we play Gotta pimp-smack baby on the daily for cake Maybe it's just the way that we lay it down 'Cause just like that, hoes come out the puss like that Head up in the whip – I pushhh Like the mack I am, it's "bitch, choose or lose it" With truth in the music, who could refuse it? Who keeps the fuse lit? New shit, nigga! Wanna walk the walk? Well, make sure your shoes fit Tighten your laces, boy – and if your lips is loose I got plenty of shit to tighten your faces Huh – let's face it, you're basic, boy Jay spit it, don't hate, bitch, make some noise (oh!) [Interlude: J Dilla scratches] "Yo – yo, this is dedicated to all the..." "Detroit ballers" "I'm - I'm from the City of D-D-D-etroit" "Who got your city on lock?" – check it out! "Yo – from the 3-1-3" Verse 3: J Dilla (scratches of Frank N Dank from "Pause") Let's get it up like it's Monday night in... (The Key) With 22's, 23's, (It gets sicker than that!) Bounce with the shoes on the jeeps (It get slick like that!) This for all my live niggas (From the 3-1-3!) Who got the city on (lock? I'ma give you the key) Dilla with Kat – it don't get (sicker than that) – uh Let's get it poppin' like it's New Year's Eve To my jeep niggas hoppin' in ya 2 year lease – beep, beep You ballin'? Do your deal all-in I like to cash her out, and mash her out I hit The Mile and then Belle Isle And if a bitch talks shit I'ma smash her mouth – what? Redman promo style – B-I-T-C-H's will get it, K-Solo style Thank a nigga, hot shit from Dabrye Let's show these muhfuckers that it's true and not just a hobby And then take the trim straight to the Atheneum And let 'em just sit in the lobby Spit game, it's just plain, y'all simple and sloppy – stop it I'll give it to you like Pac did to Mobb Deep "And that's why I fucked yo' bitch!" East side, my nigga's is cut-throat with it (Uh) West side...! Get live...! Keep your hands clappin', it's your mans back in this It's check-out time, pack ya shit Or get in a black back-handed smackcident You don't want Kat and me to spit – it's game over