RBL Posse, Richie Rich - More Game Lyrics

Rest in peace Mr. Cee. Check it out off the top dedicated to all the
Yay Area mutha fuckaz who don't know nuthin' about what they supposed to
Know sumpthin' about. So a understand me what I'm sayin'?? Uh huh y'all
Mutha fuckaz comin' from either side of the bridge biatch.

Slug bangin'
Drug bangin'
It's Rich
An that nigga Black Chris,
Runnin' a drug sweet bliss,
From the older Frisc,
Hataz chew a chunk of this,
Rest in peace to my nigga,
(Mr. Cee),
Can't fuck wit this,
Park my hog, fuck wit OG dogs,
Smoke LG despite the spook stories niggaz tell me,
They lungs collapse,
Need zig zags to bust raps,
Run trains on hoes,
Who fall victim to the flows,
RBL knows,
My turf niggaz throw up yo "O's",
If you got game,
Then hustle an struggle to bring the spot fame,
Not to name,
They built a bridge in the game,
From the Older Frisco,
Off light green an Sissco,
I go,
Back an forth,
East, west, north,
Representin' niggaz who be slangin' on the porch,
Fo what it's worth,
All niggaz on the turf,
Prepare yo mind fo the rebirth.

Ha ha, check it out. On a bitch, (RBL Posse) fo a bitch, (Double R)
Dedicated to a bitch, (sideways) an the hook'll go a lil sumpthin like
This

[Chorus: x2]

We got mo game than the average, bitch,
Three boss playaz tryin' to stack a grip, trick,
We makin' g's that's fo sheeze,
In a place where gettin' money ain't easy.
Believe that.

Now I'm bouncin' in rap,
Juss like O-Z's, to kilo's,
Gettin' so rich, I change my name to Mr. see-Note,
Now these flows, cashin' checks,
But don't forget,
I had respect, before success, to put this game in text,
So you might get wrecked,
My foes get checked,
These hoes expect,
Versace,
Fuckin' everybody,
I'm off like Gotti,
Off tha Hennessey,
My Posse, got the tendency,
To take foes, an break those,
Niggaz hold they pecos,
Then shoot them down like Waco,
But lettin' 'em say so,
We never bang hoes,
Playaz make the world go round,
That's right the world go round,
Fools talk down,
Real niggaz hold they ground,
Rich laid it down,
While he spark that pound,
I takes a toke hold, then of the smoke,
Then I blows it out,
Into the be-A-why,
My niggaz ain't G-A-why,
This Frisco pimpin', representin' gettin' P-A-why,
Ya betta believe that.

[Chorus: x2]

Some one kid you fo a rap,
Two for a hoe,
Three for the fedi,
Four since the show,
Fo sho,
I been like strugglin' an strivin' fo doe,
An the eagerness I get, the sooner that it flows,
Hoes try to keep me down the ladder,
But I'd rather keep climbin' to make my pockets fatter,
An as they huddle an gather,
To come up wit a plan, to stuffs it in my hand,
That poultry man,
Me an my click, the realest clan,
An there I stand,
As a completed soldier,
Smaller the older,
Likes phenomenon,
Like John Travolta,
Get in yo mind juss like Minolta,
It's colder how we put pressure upon yo shoulders,
Be leavin' you blinded,
In these one times, we criminal minded,
An we stood to be reminded,
Put it back,
We run this like Gulluvers Travels,
We unravel confrontations,
Fo my niggaz we lost the battle,
Snakes they rattle,
But we got mo game than the average,
Insane 'cause we some savages,
Wit the hap's of lettin' you have it,
Fo the cabbage.

[Chorus: x2]

[Repeat x3]
Mo game than the average,
Game in exchange fo some cabbage. Bitch.