c-bo - deadly game lyrics
[verse 1]
you know i never was no choir boy
your folk’s got a gang of priors
maybe that’s why the one-time’s be trifling
trying to give a young n-gga thirty-five to life
when i ain’t even done nothin wrong, officer
i have no info to offer you
he asked my name, so i came off the brain
told him, “i’m john doe and this is my ho jane”
he said, “smart mouth n-gga, don’t make me do you”
put my thumbprint in his high-tech computer
my name came back with a warrant, felo-nies
now they got me downtown, spread my -n-s
b-ttock, i’m like, “what the f-ck is it now?”
he said, “you robbed a liquor store; we know where, when and how”
it’s foul, they got a n-gga tore up from the floor up
my mom in the courtroom looking like she ’bout to throw up
it’s a strong armed robbery, strapped in the commission
at my pre-trial conference, d.a. had a proposition
he said if i lose at trial i’d get 38 with the l on top
but take the deal he’d give me five with having most of the charges dropped
hopped on the deal quicker than flash, it’s sad
i admit that, but two and a half ain’t bad i got getback
they sentenced me to five, two i gotta bring
it’s only strike one swing, batter-batter, swing
[chorus]
it’s 1-8-7 on the d.a
’cause they ain’t trying to give a young motherf-cker no leeway
yes, yes… y’all
1-8-7 on a whole courtroom, motherf-ck ’em all
you better swing, batter-batter, swing
’cause once you get your third felony, it’s fifty years you got to bring
it’s a deadly game of baseball
so when they try to pull you over, shoot him in his face, y’all
[verse 2]
fresh out the pen, unrehabilitated
doing h-lla good, and my p.o. hates it
hates d-ck, she’s a dyk- lesbian b-tch
can’t wait to violate for me for some petty–ss sh-t
i got to get a job, so i’m filling out applications
fighting the temptation, to slang [?] uh
minimum wage don’t get it
five bucks an hour don’t cut it, man, i ain’t with it
so f-ck it, i went and struck it rich on a dope sack
my homie gave me two, and told me to bring him four back
now, it’s time for me to start having things
i flips me a coupe and painted it candy apple green
it gleams, clear coat sprayed on thickly
fools out to get me ’cause my sh-t is looking sticky
i’m at the club and i can feel them suckers scoping
i’m knowing they plotting on me, but i’m still hoping
that they won’t fry me, unless they wanna die
they will be dripping more blood than mrs. simpson was
sho’ nuff, ain’t no bluff, here them suckers come
got me reaching up under the panel to handle the forty-four caliber gun, uh!
spun his -ss around with one of the fat magnum rounds
got him on the ground making funny sounds, oh!
i got a problem, witnesses–ten
positive identifacation
[chorus]
it’s 1-8-7 on the d.a
’cause they ain’t trying to give a young motherf-cker no leeway
yes, yes… y’all
1-8-7 on a whole courtroom, motherf-ck ’em all
you better swing, batter-batter, swing
’cause once you get your third felony, it’s fifty years you got to bring
it’s a deadly game of baseball
so when they try to pull you over, shoot him in his face, y’all
on swoll’ in the pen, cellmates with x-raided
now i’m on parole, five years later
the bo loc is ready to have me a ball
f-ck my p.o., i’m goin awol
and you all can suck this d-ck
i’m sick and tired of going through all this b-tch-made sh-t
i got two strikes right now as we speak, and peep
i’m not ’bout to let you motherf-ckers do me
a petty with a prior will buy your fate
with wilson in the office, you gets no date
so i’m putting all my belongings on greyhound bus #22
bound to another state, me and my crew
unpacked my sh-t, stacked my grip
california and pete wilson can suck my d-ck!
and if you didn’t already know that you couldn’t trust his -ss
just look how he did polly kl-ss
used her death and her family’s name
so he can yank more votes and political fame
it’s a shame that i’m the one they say is a monster
juvenile delinquent, steppin out of sync with
but f-ck that, i ain’t going out like a punk
that ain’t my style, rip him from his -ss crack to his nut sacks
now, they wanna k!ll a n-gga like me
i blast one, i blast two, that’s strike three
[chorus]
it’s 1-8-7 on the d.a
’cause they ain’t trying to give a young motherf-cker no leeway
yes, yes… y’all
1-8-7 on a whole courtroom, motherf-ck ’em all
you better swing, batter-batter, swing
’cause once you get your third felony, it’s fifty years you got to bring
it’s a deadly game of baseball
so when they try to pull you over, take them on a chase, y’all
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