Lyrics A. Game - AZ

I'mma 80's baby
_Mercedes_ made me
Crack money and _Moet_ made me crazy
Strapped hungry wit' no vest they named me _AZ_
Amongst the militant, too insane to raise me
Was _Swayze_
Some old school pimps embraced me
And built real between daffodils and daisies amazed me
The cars changed, switched attire
Broads came, partied like _Richard Pryor_? frames, no lens to protect my pupils
Thou' their hearts changed, love amongst my men was neutral
Beau'ful
We puffed, there was dough to spread
Wit' enough bread to?
I fled
Instead I had a mouth to feed
19 my queen claimed she handled my seed
Do the right thing is wise, that's what _Spike Lee_ said
So disguised as a mic fiend, my ties was dead

The game don't stop
'Til the player gets knocked
Or the shit flip-flop
And you sittin' on top

My kid here, career in the bloom
I don't live there no more, I done moved to the moon
Whips is like spaceships that zoom on fumes
Flooded bracelets they lit like an eclipse in june
No cartoon
I symbolize the coldest itself
Once told he who hold don't expose his weatlh
But what else
When one life's faced wit' crisis
And you see hate replace the holy faith of the righteous
I just
Handcuffed and jailed myself
Jammed up and bailed myself
Wit' no help
Made my own V.I.s and mailed myself
It's all B.I. I had to tell myself
I'm on lock
The game don't stop
'Til the player gets knocked
Or the shit flip-flop
And you sittin' on top
Flashin' my wrist watch
Like go get cops
Bitch I'm legit got rich off Hip Hop

I'm one man but so many monsters in me
Wit' one gram had plans on conquering cities
So on one hand could've signed and launched wit' _Diddy_
But I ran with my other man, the response was pretty
A few grams, a few nigga's fiances wit' me
New sedans, was feelin' like _Fonzworth Bentley_
Who the man? My homies at the concerts wit' me
I was back on my deen
Then the jacket wit' the jeans
Then the hatin' and slackin' wit' the team
Now I know what it means
Things ain't always what it seems
It's the ones that smoke blunts wit' cha
Rap wit' cha
But really want your black ass out the picture
Bet the God won't slip
I'm indie wit' the semi on the _Remy_ loaded talents in the clips
Rubber grip
Got the silence on the tip
So call it what you want I'm on my New York shit!