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U-GOD : Spit Game lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

U-GOD lyrics : "Spit Game"

(feat. Autumn Rue, INF-Black, Letha Face)

[Intro: Autumn Rue]

Spit game..
Spit game..



I do the damn thing, toast the champagne
It's the Lord of the Rings, move in full swing
^!$$%, 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, ^!$$%, 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, (*##$
Call me Super, with the German luger
With the funky dope mauneuver, pass me the rude boy

Stainless steel toy, comin' to killjoy
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 (*##$

[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)


What you know about gangstas, thugs and real ^!$$%z
^!$$%z that get #[email protected], and ^!$$%z that just #[email protected]
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 jewels 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


[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 [email protected]$)
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 %#@! but different day, now the pistol's aimed
At your heart, squeeze off then break you apart


[Hook: Autumn Rue (w, male singer & U-God)]

They're the kind of ^!$$%z everybody knows (everybody knows)
They freak them (*##$es 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


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