Chance the Game

Uhh, uhh, uhh, let's go Uhh, bounce, uhh, bounce Uhh, bounce, uhh, Shit relax your mind, let your conscience be free You're now rollin with them thugs from the R-O-C Sigel Sigel in the house Uh-huh, sick bastard Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer Uhh, uhh, Memph Bleek in the house Still here, never left Still bust, more or less, still puff, beeatch! Uh, uhh, uh-huh-uh-uhh, uhh Young Hova in the house, Jigga! Yeah Crist' sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga! Hold up love Everytime you see Jigga Man, I'm rollin on dubs Don't forget about them blades, shit choppin it up It's the motherfuckin Roc bitch, who hotter than us? Jay-Hov, bout to change my name to Jay Peso But in the meantime, call me William H., though On the platinum Yamaha, got the engine gunnin' Throwin' it up like liquor on an empty stomach Y'all don't hear nuttin'? Who that, Mac? Nah dawg, that's M. Bleek comin Who the fluck, want, what? Catch Bleek in South Beach out of the reach of the police Gat on my lap (yeah) bitch on my back (holla) Yak in my pocket, smokin' the sticky chocolate (ooh-wee!) Holla if you want drama with The Dynasty; Amil, Bleek, Jigga and Sigel, Desert Eagle dawg, who else but me? Roc ears, Roc-Wears, bandannas and white tees Me without a gun, dawg, unlikely You know I keep the heat right under the wifebeat' Three-X-T, I'm Lincoln now, you can't see the pound Got a little gut, so gat sit tucked (fuck) I run wild, gun high, L.A. style Bang the Roscoe to the sunrise, plus I stay dumb high Whether block shit or rock shit Club shit or drug shit, I pop shit, I got shit Get Sig' any track I'mma spit the talk to it Down South gon' bounce, Crips gon' walk to it Get a ounce, get a woods, everybody spark to it Every dawg, every Blood in the hood, bark to it Get the ounce, get the woods, everybody spark to it We can smoke in here, put the choke in the air Don't change the game for these hoes Who plays the game like we supposed Sigel, Sigel in the house Uh-huh, sick bastard Get your wig pushed back by the wig push-backer Don't change the game for these hoes Who plays the game like we supposed Memph Bleek in the house Still here, never left Still bust, more or less, still puff, bitch! Don't change the game for these hoes Who plays the game like we supposed Young Hova in the house, Jigga! Crist' sipper, six dipper, wrist glitter nigga! I wear more bling to The Source and Soul Train's More chains than rings, niggas won't do a thing I bangs the four-four in plain, daylight I'm deranged Spray right at your brain, by the way this is Hov' One shot Dillinger, one shot killin' ya It's only one Roc La Familia Sigel lock Philly up, Brooklyn is me Matter of fact, the East coast, fuck, took it from me Fourth album still Jay still spittin' that real shit Volume Three still sold more records than Will Smith Can't call this a comeback, I run rap, the fuck is y'all sayin? Five million I done that, and I come back, to do it again (uh-huh) Ex-sinner, Grammy award winner Ballin repeatedly, highlights on Sportscenter Please repeat after me, there's only one rule I will not, lose!