Sticky Fingaz - Debo the Game lyrics

[Hook] The streets know I'm 'bout to debo the whole f**ing game I ain't playing around, laying n***as down What, who want it know? Run your mouth, n***a, see if I don't gun you down The streets know I'm 'bout to debo the whole f**ing game I ain't playing around, laying n***as down What, who want it know? Run your mouth, n***a, see if I don't gun you down [Verse 1] Right now, every n***a out here got a problem My money ain't right, n***a, I'm damn near starvin' 'Bout to murk something for real, I'm down to my last Either I'm getting k**ed or getting my hands on some cash All the dues that I paid, I want back, n***as owe me Y'all done f**ed up, turned me back to the old me I done lost the Hummer, the Benz, and the Rover The mansion I had going through a foreclosure See me in the hood, think I'm good, well I'm not Look at me wrong, I'll put you in a wood box Following home whoever got the cash in here f** that star sh**, I ain't been platinum in years Look, I'll let your family go, son, first thing tomorrow But today, I need you to make a withdrawal All them bullsh** movies ain't getting me paid Making scale for an actor, that's minimum wage Sign 100 dollar bills on some autograph sh** while I'm broke? f** that, I'm robbing all these ba*tards! I don't eat? Nobody don't eat no more I make your life Hell, you have to tip toe to the store Straight slap a n***a, stomp him out, no time to argue Spaz out and take my frustration out on you My moms taught me better, but her breath was wasted So what, you work hard for yours? I work hard to take it! [Hook] The streets know I'm 'bout to debo the whole f**ing game I ain't playing around, laying n***as down What, who want it know? Run your mouth, n***a, see if I don't gun you down The streets know I'm 'bout to debo the whole f**ing game I ain't playing around, laying n***as down What, who want it know? Run your mouth, n***a, see if I don't gun you down [Verse 2] Get my money right, Sticky on that Brooklyn bullsh** I got guns, n***a, and I'm quick to pull it How I go from being the illest back to being poor? Guess I wasn't always the sharpest knife in the drawer I ain't got my own clothes line or none of that sh** Only a**et I own is this gun on my hip I never punch the clock but always have plenty of money My type of 9 to 5 could get you a 10 to 20 I ain't graduate school, I ain't got no degrees Only training that I got is what I learned in the streets You know, chop a n***a's head, sell a n***a's heat Do a stick up here and there, serving n***as weed Twelve years I carried the whole hood on my back Seem like they tryna write me out the book of rap But f** that! I leave my mark across the border f**, I'll pull a Columbine at the Source Awards Gon' die anyway, f** it, make it excitin' This ain't music! n***a, this my life that I'm writin' Take away the diamonds, the money, and all of the fame Man to man, I'm iller than any n***a in this f**ing game! [Hook] The streets know I'm 'bout to debo the whole f**ing game I ain't playing around, laying n***as down What, who want it know? Run your mouth, n***a, see if I don't gun you down The streets know I'm 'bout to debo the whole f**ing game I ain't playing around, laying n***as down What, who want it know? Run your mouth, n***a, see if I don't gun you down