Throwed-N-Da Game

(Billy Cook)<br>Oooooh-oooh, Iiiiiiiiii`m so throwed, in the game<br>In the two triple O, Po-Yo, Billy G, aaaaaaaay<br><br>[Hook: Billy Cook - 2x]<br>I`m so thoed in the game<br>All the haters wanna know my name<br>I`m pushing weight, to leveling the game<br>Open up your eyes, and see the fame<br><br>[Big Pokey]<br>I`m so, thoed in the game<br>Blood and sweat, got a nigga feeling the pain<br>Moving like a freight train, and ain`t looking back<br>Trying to make the big head stack, feel that<br>Open your eyes, I`m a wolverine on the rise<br>Mobbing like Wise Guys, my eyes on the prize<br>Recognize, it`s a hell of a feeling <br>It`s cathedral ceilings, I`m building and shuffling shilling<br>Trying to touch a million, `fore my time is up<br>I ain`t touched it yet, so I ain`t blind enough<br>And the playa haters agitated, cause the figgas<br>I done calculated, I put it in they face laminated<br>Nonstop, let em know my guns chop<br>And if it`s on, I`ma make they lungs stop<br>Snitches, I`ma snatch they tongue out<br>Oooh yeah, know I`m talking bout<br><br>[Hook: Billy Cook - 2x]<br><br>[Big Pokey]<br>I`m a playa, lose corners checking my trap<br>Hitting gaps like Warren Sapp, trying to make something happ`n<br>Day for day with it, on the block getting paid with it<br>Twenty fo` seven, I stay with it<br>I don`t play with it, I pump it nigga<br>Laws come dumping, all the neers gate and jumping nigga<br>Get my bail on, head home and get my cell phone<br>So I could re-up, and get my mail on<br>This ain`t the first time, I lost my do`<br>Or toss my do`, as long as I ain`t lost my hoe<br>Can`t cry over spilled milk, just jump on my game<br>And make my gears shift, real swift<br>I`m a threat, one of the realest you ever met<br>If I`m trading a set, with a brick and some wet<br>In the big body Lex on dubs, pop pushed up<br>Sitting low on the dubs, nigga what<br><br>[Hook: Billy Cook - 2x]<br><br>[Big Pokey]<br>All I need is a three beam, and coffee mug to shake<br>Big bag of weight, compressed and duct taped<br>Peep the print on it, K-9 can`t get a scent on it<br>Bust that hoe down, and let the fleas get bent on it<br>My hustle, I`ve been known it for deep<br>Keep my game concrete, cement under my feet<br>Head up, moving in the right direction<br>Knowing I can make a mill, with the right connection<br>Mob Style through Texas, a A-1 selection<br>And I spit the truth, like a sinner in confession<br>Hauling wessins, waiting for something to jump<br>First nigga to bump, will catch a hot one in his gum<br>Get your paper by all means, gotta survive<br>Working this crack of construction, from nine to five<br>But it`s my time to shine, I`ma blind they eyes<br>Knocking my rides off like french fries, supersized<br><br>[Hook: Billy Cook - 2x]