The Hillside Scramblers - Spit Game lyrics

(feat. Autumn Rue, INF-Black, Letha Face) [Intro: Autumn Rue] Spit game.. Spit game.. Game.. Game.. [U-God] I do the damn thing, toast the champagne It's the Lord of the Rings, move in full swing n***a, fan the flames, expand my wings Plus my vocal range, I shoot to mane Call me Kurt Cobain, baptized in the flame Capsized in the game, n***a, say the name And I bang you out, with the Gang Land violence And it's New York's finest, you've been ordained With the deadly aim, don't think I won't shoot ya Got more positions than the Karma Sutra, b**h Call me Super, with the German luger With the funky dope mauneuver, pa** me the rude boy Stainless steel toy, comin' to k**joy The real mccoy's is coming to beat it The best kept secret, shake the ground descend Kick the door open when I release the b**h [Chorus: Autumn Rue (male singer)] Spit game (and they like it) Spit game (when you have no vest) Game (walking down the avenue) Game (always coppin' somethin' new) [INF-Black] What you know about gangstas, thugs and real n***as n***as that get p**y, and n***as that just p**y Hold it down, all the time, I ain't gotta spend a dime Bust a cherry, and we dine, cuz fine, I pop wine And I ain't got game, mami, I drop j**els and pack nines I'm still the same homey from '89, so speak your mind Now I'm on my grind, from sun down to sunshine See you went blind for a minute, now I ain't got time Catch me spit a line, I don't know, I gotta think about it Gotta cut these vines 'fore these snakes'll try to penetrate me Sing about (right), I'm takin' the whole cake Now I'm push and be up out it, feed the whole Tri state [Chorus] [Letha Face] Now ain't that a damn shame, the way I spit game I could talk my way out of some beef And that'll buy me some time to run and get the piece Then come back with the heat and bury you in the streets Sweet with the gift of gab, when I lift the mag' I put you in the right place, you Will & Grace f*g The ex' type spizz off, when it chase the Jag' Somebody lace the bag, now there's dust in my dutch Yo Dutch, roll up, wait a minute, hold up These cats are frontin' the cut, let's open his stomach up So what? I don't care if you don't like me, you don't excite me I'll have vets murder you in broad daylight, g Sheisty's your middle name, I bang you little lames Rapid shots riddle your frame, your head piece hangs Same sh** but different day, now the pistol's aimed At your heart, squeeze off then break you apart [Chorus] [Hook: Autumn Rue (w, male singer & U-God)] They're the kind of n***as everybody knows (everybody knows) They freak them b**hes from head to toe (from head to toe, from head to toe) They're the rolling stones, the Al Capones (watch it when we coming down) They're the Romeos, they hit you then they gone, ooh, yeah [Chorus]