You Played Yourself

Album: The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech... Just Watch What You Say (1989)
Charted: 64
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  • This is it, dope from the fly kid
    The Ice mic is back with the high bid
    Suckers you've lost cos players you're not, gangstas you ain't
    You're faintin', punk, if you ever heard a gunshot
    Yo, the pusher, the player, the pimp gangsta, the hustler
    High Roller, dead pres folder
    Is cold lampin' like a black king on a throne
    Evil E...turn up the microphone
    So I can ill and break on the rollin' tape
    Another album to make? Great
    Islam turn the bass kick up a bit
    Hype the snare, now I got a place to sit
    And ride the track like a black mack in his 'lac
    Hit the corner slow where the girls are at
    And kick game the way it should be done
    How you gonna drop science? You're dumb
    Stupid ignorant, don't even talk to me
    At school you dropped Math, Science and History
    And then you get on the mic and try to act smart
    Well let me tell you one thing, you got heart
    To perpetrate, you're bait, so just wait
    Till the press shove a mic in your face
    Or you meet Boogie Down or Chuck D
    Stetsasonic or the Big Daddy
    And they ask you about the game you claim you got
    Drop science now, why not?
    You start to sweat and fret, it gets hot
    How'd you get into this spot?

    You played yourself...
    Yo, yo, you played yourself...

    I'm no authority but I know the D-E-A-L
    When it comes to dealin' with the females
    What you got they want, cash is what they need
    Slip sucker and they'll break you with speed
    But you meet a freak, you try to turn her out
    Spendin' money's what I'm talkin' about
    But you fool out, your pockets got blew out
    And after the date, no boots, you got threw out
    Mad and shook cos your duckets got took
    Call her up, phone's off the hook
    But who told you to front and flaunt your grip?
    You can't buy no relationship

    You played yourself...
    Yo, homeboy, you played yourself...

    I'm in the MC game, a lot of MC's front
    And for the money they're sell out stunts
    But they claim that they're rich and that they keep cash
    Yo, let me straighten this out fast
    Two hundred thousand records sold
    And these brothers start yellin' 'bout gold?
    You better double that, then double that again
    And still don't get sooped, my friend
    You think you've made it, you're just a lucky man
    Guess who controls your destiny, fans
    But you diss 'em cos you think you're a star
    That attitude is rude, you won't get far
    Cos they'll turn on you quick, you'll drop like a brick
    Unemployment's where you'll sit
    No friends cos you dissed 'em too
    No money, no crew, you're through

    You played yourself...
    That's right, you played yourself...
    You played yourself...
    Yo, yo, you played yourself...

    You got problems, you claim you need a break
    But every dollar you get you take
    Straight to the Dopeman, try to get a beam up
    Your idle time is spent tryna scheme up
    Another way to get money for a jumbo
    When you go to sleep you count Five-O's
    Lyin' and cheatin', everybody you're beatin'
    Dirty clothes and you're skinny cos you haven't been eatin'
    You ripped off all your family and your friends
    Nowhere does your larceny end
    And then you get an idea for a big move
    An armed robbery...smooth
    But everything went wrong, somebody got shot
    You couldn't get away, the cops roll, you're popped
    And now you're locked, yo, lampin' on Death Row
    Society's fault? No
    Nobody put the crack into the pipe
    Nobody made you smoke off your life
    You thought that you could do dope and still stay cool? Fool.

    You played yourself...
    You played yourself...
    Ain't nobody else's fault, you played yourself
    Writer/s: CHARLES BOBBIT, FRED WESLEY, JAMES BROWN, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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