Debo The Game - Sticky Fingaz

The streets know I’m 'bout to debo the whole fucking game

I ain’t playing around, laying niggas down

What, who want it know?

Run your mouth, nigga, see if I don’t gun you down

The streets know I’m 'bout to debo the whole fucking game

I ain’t playing around, laying niggas down

What, who want it know?

Run your mouth, nigga, see if I don’t gun you down

Right now, every nigga out here got a problem

My money ain’t right, nigga, I’m damn near starvin'

'Bout to murk something for real, I’m down to my last

Either I’m getting killed or getting my hands on some cash

All the dues that I paid, I want back, niggas owe me

Y’all done fucked up, turned me back to the old me

I done lost the Hummer, the Benz, and the Rover

The mansion I had going through a foreclosure

See me in the hood, think I’m good, well I’m not

Look at me wrong, I’ll put you in a wood box

Following home whoever got the cash in here

Fuck that star shit, I ain’t been platinum in years

Look, I’ll let your family go, son, first thing tomorrow

But today, I need you to make a withdrawal

All them bullshit movies ain’t getting me paid

Making scale for an actor, that’s minimum wage

Sign 100 dollar bills on some autograph shit while I’m broke?

Fuck that, I’m robbing all these bastards!

I don’t eat?

Nobody don’t eat no more

I make your life Hell, you have to tip toe to the store

Straight slap a nigga, stomp him out, no time to argue

Spaz out and take my frustration out on you

My moms taught me better, but her breath was wasted

So what, you work hard for yours?

I work hard to take it!

The streets know I’m 'bout to debo the whole fucking game

I ain’t playing around, laying niggas down

What, who want it know?

Run your mouth, nigga, see if I don’t gun you down

The streets know I’m 'bout to debo the whole fucking game

I ain’t playing around, laying niggas down

What, who want it know?

Run your mouth, nigga, see if I don’t gun you down

Get my money right, Sticky on that Brooklyn bullshit

I got guns, nigga, and I’m quick to pull it

How I go from being the illest back to being poor?

Guess I wasn’t always the sharpest knife in the drawer

I ain’t got my own clothes line or none of that shit

Only asset I own is this gun on my hip

I never punch the clock but always have plenty of money

My type of 9 to 5 could get you a 10 to 20

I ain’t graduate school, I ain’t got no degrees

Only training that I got is what I learned in the streets

You know, chop a nigga’s head, sell a nigga’s heat

Do a stick up here and there, serving niggas weed

Twelve years I carried the whole hood on my back

Seem like they tryna write me out the book of rap

But fuck that!

I leave my mark across the border

Fuck, I’ll pull a Columbine at the Source Awards

Gon' die anyway, fuck it, make it excitin'

This ain’t music!

Nigga, this my life that I’m writin'

Take away the diamonds, the money, and all of the fame

Man to man, I’m iller than any nigga in this fucking game!

The streets know I’m 'bout to debo the whole fucking game

I ain’t playing around, laying niggas down

What, who want it know?

Run your mouth, nigga, see if I don’t gun you down

The streets know I’m 'bout to debo the whole fucking game

I ain’t playing around, laying niggas down

What, who want it know?

Run your mouth, nigga, see if I don’t gun you down