(feat. Chauncey Black, Q-Tip)
[Busta Rhymes]
Yeah
It's funny how the game change, right? Hehe
Shit feel all different
Y'all niggaz complainin left and right about how the game feel all fucked up
Niggaz only been talkin like that since we been sittin out the game
I think the game need us Kamaal, let's talk to them niggaz
Huh!
[Q-Tip]
So many nights were spent ponderin
Wonderin how we gon' come again
My golden rule is not to focus on the fame game
In retrospect, the game ain't the same mayne
They heart and soul is divided
They ramshack the music, no control up inside it
Now - look at this, it's all stretched out and nasty
But - lettin money pass me
I doubt that, and niggaz from the bottom now
Pumpin hard, wind sleet hail rain or snow
So... you got to get your gate right
No matter what, you got to treat your weight right
On the block if you focused on greed then
Nine out of ten times you be bleedin
The analogy is clear
To all of my peers, I'm a muh'fuckin vet
Don't mean to disrespect, cause
[refrão um]
"I write rhymes, I write checks"
(It's clear) Bust, aiyyo what happened to the (love)
For the game (love) for the music (I need realness in my life)
Aiyyo these niggaz in the game don't sound the same
Bust, these niggaz in the game don't sound the same
