I separate the game & truth nthe truth of game, the game of truthnAll we do is separete the game from the truthnthe truth from the game, the game from the truthnnYou can either play in the game or control itneither be the boss with the biggest dick or just hold itnyour pussycat raps deserve capsnrockin my style, you stole itnsmuggled hip hop like the slave-trade and sold it nto every Tom, Jack, and Billy, wannabe Willy'snyou know before Garcia's was Phillies n.38 specials was 9 milli'sncrack was krillies, you knew the deal not the dealynfigure this, niggas is jiggy that jiggy thisnplatinum with stones crusted on the micnplus ice on they neck & wrists, is it game or truth?nFake niggas is Abe Lincoln, I'm John Wilkes Booth nhatin' like crack fiends on the reup man waitin, uh nsellin ya soul half price to satannwe enemies like Oswald and Kennedy, but no speculationnjust that magic bullet marinatin'nnGame is...the big time, the big shinesnTruth is..you walk a thin line, never make a thin dimenGame is..you all about it, I doubt it doubt itnplaya, playa do me a favor, dead that til laterndon't get me wrong I'm not a haternI'm talking to small timers that front majornbut can't afford to pay the pagerntruthfully the game usually amuses menlook at this whole shit, I miss how it used to bencause back then before rappin was actinnthose makin dough from lights, camera, action nwas just a fractionnyour skill's barely passable, you laughablenyou think you're Castro? nYou're mixed up like caserolenstraight pussy masingilnto be factual you can barely hold a Jackson billnlet alone half a milnleave it alone when grown folks is speakingngame is for you to decide the true meaningnnGame is...the Range, fast lanenTruth is...no change, no famenGame is...Cocaine, the high lifenTruth is...nosebleeds, skiid nightsnGame is...the road to riches, mad bitchesnTruth is...codependence, convictionsnGame is...ice links and drunk spreesnTruth is...weak drinks and fake minksnnI hate bitches, fake bitches that take richesngold diggers, snake bitches, straight chickensnGame is when bitches act brainlessnthey do the same shit nto whip the Benz or ride the Rangersnthey chase the famous then everything changesnyou was the latest, now you just a played bitchngirls look so good but they brains' not readynso I hit em wit' the cheddy, don't wet menI separate the game so muthafuckas can get it straightnlight weights often die from high stakesnI grab the average bird double fistednspitting the hottest lyricsnleaving their face, neck, and hands blisterednthe hardest MC's go limp wristednexploit metaphors like whores in various ways nyou never knew existed, the plot thickensnthere oughtta be a novel by Charles DickensnAttack of the Gold Diggin' ChickensnI keep chicken feed in the form of cheap malt liquor,nsome cheesburgers, and hydroponic weed, indeednmy style's been trapped like 2Pacnon a late night stroll in Death Row, but now it's freenwhile ya'll stay skii'd, I stay tree'dnthe 9th inning & these so called playas got the leadnnow that's some shit that's hard to believe...nit's hard to believennGame is...everybody knows ya namenTruth is...fifteen minutes of famenGame is...rap stars, fast carsnTruth is...you paid the price and gave ya lifennI separate the game & truthnthe truth & game, the game & truthnAll we do's separete the game from the truthnthe truth from the game, the game from the truthnnThe problem with you is you're too greedynyou smoke them beedy's, your weak cdncan't fuck wit you on GPnyou see me with no frills nrecord label must smoke krillnmost of these rap acts got no skillsntruth is the odds are better winnin' a million in Bingonthan sellin' a million singlesnreality versus fictionnthe truth is you need to stop sniffin' and do something differentnlisten, your Willy status burned out like Philly ashesnwhip crashes, life flashes before your eyes like matchesnmoney's too tight to mentionnso stop pretendin like you've been spendinnhalf these kids rap like out of work actressesnface down, ass up on cheap mattressesnwhat's beef? Transparent cause I see through beefnlost ya fronts, now you got see-through teethnthe name J-Son plays onnbig up to heavy drinkers while the herb tokers blaze onntil the smoke makes dusk look dawnnKreators, separate us, kings from PawnsnnGame is....Truth is.n