The Click, D-Shot, E-40 - Get Chopped lyrics

Game must be focused upongame
If you ain't got game you ain't got nathin'
(What you say?)
If you ain't got game you ain't got nathin'
Game (Then spit it)

A nigga spent his last to quadruple his cash
Hopin' that the plane wouldn't crash
Outsmarted the task by teachin' they ass
Bouts the other side of the grass, ugh
I spit's the truth from the soil, untold
See 3-40 in ya pager, that's the code
Hit me back even though he's
Busy off the hook
Plus the hurricane ethyl got him too took
Drug advancements, penitentiary chances
Circumstances, gigantic ass
Leave enhancements
Keep on mashin' though, don't quit
Game Related, comin' from the fuckin' Click

Now that I made the major leagues
Pushin' big ki's
Niggas from my block ain't tryin' to see me
I came up too fast for them punks hoes
Now them fools wants to kick in my door
Bringin' over the change if you think
That you can fuck with this
Bam, pops to the dome bitch
Motherfuckers hate to see a
True nigga flamboast
Bringin' in more net than gross

They wants to kick in my spot
Boom, get chopped
They wanna take me for what I got
Boom, get chopped
They wants to strike through my block
Boom, get chopped but, I'm up on they plot
Boom, get chopped

Bitch, feelin' evil like Knievel
Lookin' for a wrench
Gotta a couple screws loose like the grinch
Problem child ain't got no
Problem with disposin' lose me temper
Lose me cool but on the same token
He ain't gon' bust a grape, E-40, mayne
That nigga fakin' you fail-ize I'll have ya
Whole family wind taken
Paper hatin' haters get put in they place
Crevice achin'
Back and get scratched in the face

Niggas from the other side of
Town be talkin' big shit
Actin' like they wanna fuck with my Click
But the shit ain't changed fuck the rap game
Hillside nigga on a mission to proclaim
My motherfuckin' spot in society
Southside niggas just jealous, they doubt me
Punk niggas lookin' for a reason
To kick off some ruckus to
Start the funk season

I fucks bitch after bitch, nigga, get rich
Don't you know this The Click?
V the hundred SL's what
A nigga straight smash
One hundred thousand in cash

Follow the leader
Trip off how the game gets deeper
The more I teach 'em, the dumber I get
Dizzy-izzy, hey Shot
These tardy niggas kill me
But what they don't know is I fly
Their cerebral cortex like a Frisbee
Fuck 'em and feed 'em
Pistol whip they ass and bleed 'em
Stuck 'em and read 'em
Find out where they snooze and sleep 'em
You pearl tongues need to stop
Workin' for them cops
Rat heads don't get no props, BEOTCH!