Recognize Game

By Spice 1

On Tha Black Bossalini

Released on October 28, 1997

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[Intro: Ice-T]

Well alright. Spice 1 in the hiddouse

(and Short Dawgs in the house bitch)

With the L.A. Players (soldiers to the game you know?) Yeah

(Peep game fool)

Ant Banks at the crackhouse

(Ha ha ha better recognize game when it's in your face bitch)


[Verse 1: Ice-T]

It's obvious mad cash got me gassed

Shark tanks and views millionaire cruise buying cars in twos

"Never lose" my motto since birth

Double up knots and crack spots

Snitches lead out by silence gun shots

Map the area I wanted to cut the fuckin' cops a deal

If they don't kneel, They get peeled

Bitches recognize I never have no drama with death

Bustas always try I leavin' 'em gagging spittin' up phlegm

Take a pen make a mil and if this shit don't sell

I still got the street powder back to flippin' flour

South Central nigga what?

The representer, damn your girl seen me comin' and ran

Young enough to be my daughter

My posse use to flip her like a quarter

To state to my man for man slaughter

Caught her in the stairway took her out the fairway

Trunked the punk bitch (That's fair play)


[Hook: Kokane & Too $hort]

You've got the game, twist it up, and tango, baby

Bitch recognize game when it's in your face

"Well alright ch'all" "ha ha ha"


[Verse 2: Too $hort]

You think the town rid of Short?

You must be crazy, that silly shit you talkin' just don't faze me

I could make a phone call and just like that

A bunch of niggas from Oakland all on your back

I've never been a shot caller just a nigga in a crew

They call me Too Short but I'm still bigger than you, bitch

I been around you can take a turn but don't get burned

I've seen the tables turn

Marks turn into killers rich niggas go broke

Use to be a wannabe but now I'm old school Short

In the game never had the stacks since age 14

I been spittin' these raps soakin' the game up

And even when I came up I fucked with same folks

Still did the same stuff

Bitch Short Dawgs in the house

I know you on my dick cause it's all in your mouth


[Hook]


[Verse 3: Spice 1]

Picture the game as a quarter toss it up in the air (uh ha)

Heads or tails win or lose broke niggas or players (x2)

Say what up to the S.P. crooked nigga I.C.E

Ra rolling with the strap on the side of me

Potna don't get it twisted up I got hollow tips extended clips

Major chips lookin' at Eclipse jacuzzi dips

Niggas step back I don't know you

Don't get to close to me

Some niggas ain't really the motherfucker they suppose to be

Cloud killers don't aim until you shoot in the air

Better put it down and brake some hoes off like a true player

Phoney as three dollar bills niggas ain't recognizin'

Fell in the relapse besides I'm a trauma a nigga

Look in the eyes and when you see me I be hardcore

What the fuck a real nigga like me gotta lie to kick it for?

I'm tired of these bubblegum ass niggas

Throwin' monkey wrenches up in the game

And all the players and pimps feel my pain

Hustlers maintainin' riches and keepin' presidentials

Not artificial official niggas know I'm packin' missiles

Get me two Bentleys some houses Johnson jet skis

Ballin' till I die nigga don't fuck with S.P.I


[Hook]