Letras: Buddha Monk. Unreleased Chambers. Play The Game.

[Intro: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Do we drop this? Play the game...
Do we drop this? Do we drop this?
Do-do-do-do-do we drop this?

[Chorus: Anesthesia w/ ad-libs]
You say you wanna play the game
And you wanna state your claim
You're living in your life of fame
And you wanna do ya tha-ang-ang

[Grime:]
I got hoes to shake and doughs to make
Niggaz act up and I've got bones to break
I'm supposed to take what's mines so I do
Mad fucking ass, big cash and Lex Coupes
The ice with the birds, the house in the suburbs
Ace out-stated to Brook-nam, we laced out
What's the point of beef when our shit stay locked?
We've got payroll cops and niggaz that run the block
More big stashes, chickens in the smashes
Gigantic bottles, lies everlasting
Fuck with the Grime and my mind is Zu
You'll be hanging on the rope, nigga feel the clips
See ya mans get fucked up and stuffed with chips
Now what? Can you taste the fifth to ya lips?
Now it's time for setups, dramas, fucking fed up
All ya haters enter, mothafuckas get beret' up
Come on!

[Chorus]

[Break x2: Anesthesia]
You've been in this game for so long
You know you've gotta move on

[Mozart:]
I stay in the mix
On the move so quick, the Sugar Shane miss
Can't find me? I'm probably in the lobby, liming
I'm smoking lime green spliffs the size of sugar cane sticks
I hustle weed, stash in a hole in the wall
While I'm outside looking for sales, holding the door
Block hot like an oven would be (so what?)
But I'm a do what I do 'til somebody puts stuff in me
Put my wild life on TV like Discovery
I roll for dolie, get bent like both knees
Squatting to leave the whole building smokey
I do the dew, don't drink soda
Stay armed like the human shoulders
Got you fooled thinking I'm innocent
When I take right to the crime like it's made by intimates
Ladies and gentlemen... (Dirt McGirt!)

[Chorus]

[Break x2]

[Ol' Dirty Bastard:]
Do we drop this shit? Is it funky for you?
Or is it madness? Is it real for you?
Enough hits, party funky for you
Stomp ya feet, makes it smell doo-doo
Rap changes, ya ass on it
Ol' Dirty mothafucka, Dirt bring out no doubt

[Buddha Monk:]
Eh-yo we don't want no problems, I ain't got nuts in my pants
But I sure now got the steel that make you do it in any dance
TV breaks critters
We explained on them why the heat takes and dead beats someone's face
You got a problem? Watch the nine solve it
You don't think I'll pop him? Watch the nine pop, BOW!
Nothing to lose as long as I'm rocking the tools
Shocked for the fool, who said it couldn't happen to you?
Eh-yo, Brook-lawn Chronicles shown on channel two
Smoke Jones and he'll beat bones, laughing at you
Pass the punani 'pon the left hand side
The nice dripping sperm left of the eye
Now you gone, ya crew's gone, what went wrong?
You said you some of the tough guys, ya so loose con

[Chorus]

[Break x2]

[Outro: Buddha Monk (Ol'Dirty Bastard)]
(Roll back, roll back) play the game
(Roll back, roll back) state ya claim
(Roll back, roll back)
(Roll back, roll back)
(Roll back, roll back) so long
(Roll back, roll back) move on
(Roll back, roll back) so long
(Dirt McGirt!... Dirt McGirt!)