Learn the Game - Lord Superb, Raekwon

We going through a cycle

That’s all, you going through a spin circle right now

Yeah… yo… yeah… yo… yeah… yo… yo, yo…

Ain’t no honor amongst blunts and get high, the real’ll let the clip fly

Don’t say a word, nigga gon' get got

Jail stories from the sixties, enlighten us to move richly

Let’s break a brick down, this is the shit, G

Quarter water money add up, next thing you know

My niggas bagging up, garbage bags and shit, imagine us

Bank robbers and shit, gangstas that ain’t involved with shit

Can’t even arg', dick, bring an armed quick

Realer nigga let go, his neck blow, son be intimidated

Start your hating, I’m formulating

Rum at the glass table, I’m all Nike’d down, glass bangles

One rock, that’s flashy on the ankles

Benz stations and X5's races, sit Immobilize paper

Shake down Vegas and own acres

Large sum of this change, Allah bought to me with a blue range

A crew that be spitting them things

I’m a hydro plane when I rhyme, let’s do it for the crew lines

No radio, faggot, reveal a new shine

It’s old money, mines used to stealing

Run up in bank trucks, start peeling and jailing, holding buildings

Point cat, nigga gon' die for that, make a casket round

Won’t get found, read about your raps

Yo, a wiseman once said, before you play the game, learn to move

It’s a game of life, learn the rules

Either you live or die, bust your heater

But respect you leader, never bite the hand that feeds you

The DJs?

That thought I was foul

Pardon me, I was just too dusted to smile

Don’t think I’m fronting, when I rock my mustard crocodile

That’s my style, my whole crew, Penal Moscow

You UFO’s acting like ya’ll beyond we

You can get smoked like a jar of neon weed

Ain’t none of ya’ll flakey lasts beyond me

I couldn’t be a rapper, Perb was a don in the streets

While you, busting your brain, I’m dawning the beads

I fuck with RZA, you better honor my beats

I’m very small, so honor my heat

My whole famil' ill, even my aunt’s in the street

Laundry crack money, spend 48 track money

Amp ya dap money, bulletproof sound mic money

Fuck paper, ya’ll niggas kite hungry

FBI, C.O., and P.O.

friendly

Ya’ll serve a cop Remy, turn the music up loud and

Rae’s my gun, shoot 'em down

Look like a video, the on-lookers, til it’s time

To pick, cops up, and pick brains up

They should of picked man up, hook Dana Dane up

It’s my year, my whole block living laid up

Salute all the hood in me, the days fly off

I’m just lampin' elevator music, laying in the Waldoff

Tongue be swifter than a race horse, fresh cut

Blazing a gauge off, analyze the days, dog

Running up in spots, carrying knots

Marrying blocks, salaries is carrying cops

Call it the Jim Thorpe theory, Olympic minds quick, catch on

We used to switch nines, glowing on the Ferry

Renaissance Rembrandts on, ready to spray a cop

Eight shots, that hold weight and hold slots

Hands like Dusty, a mind like magnetic clusty

The Louis Rich saga, that’ll dutch me

Tree of life suit on, big thick gem with his loot on

Rocks that’ll freeze up a uniform

Major live feed out, Fila bubble with the heat out

Dedicated to ya’ll, with my meat out