This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
[Chorus 2x]
A little bit of game is all it takes
A little bit of game goes a long long way
[Verse 1]
Cuddie I don't sleep much, 'cause when I close my eyes
I hear cries from my potna's who lost they lives
Visions of bloody brutality's reality
Gotta stay focused and hope it don't affect my salary
Them calories, they keep my pockets fat, I got to stack a grip
Try not to trip, and keep them gold diggers off my dick
I'm gettin' sick 'cause I drink 24-7
The way I'm livin' now, if I die, there's no heaven
Gotta help my potnas in the pen 'cause they livin' broke
This ain't no joke, on parole and I can't smoke
No sticky indo, roll down the window
'Cause if I breathe(?) the task is back ??? like Nintendo
Gotta play the game like a professional
If you ain't having money I got to let you go
I need to let you know the rules before you ???
Rule number one potna, never should you pimpatrate
I spit this pimpin' straight and cut no addatives
Just nouns and adjectives, how mad you get don't mattter bitch
I'm a player so I serve the game
Maintain campaign, and have thangs
[Chorus 2x]
[Verse 2]
Back in '92 I was drowned in them big cases
But now its '97 and I'm counting them big faces
I switched places with them sardines and squares
The ??? fillet mignon, and garlic bread
A hard head, big heart, and gorilla nuts
Got me mobbin' through the bay like I don't give a fuck
I'm whipped, equipped, and stay dipped in butter sauce
Pill if she's real, no scrill I cut her off
'Cause fine ass bitches with the empty bank book
Is worse than them ugly muthafuckas who can't cook
My game cooked for five years in the feds
Now its time for these game hungry niggas to get fed
I get bread, so them suckas down me
Smile in my face but clown me when they not around me
Talk down on my every move, but I couldnt give a damn
Playas do what they want, and suckas do what they can
[Chorus 2x]
[Verse 3]
7-5-70, my DOB, uhh
And I've been breakin' hoes since '83, what?
Money makers manual, handle my business discretly
don't give my home phone number out, beep me
'Cause ain't no tellin' who be tellin', or who they tell
And plus I heard that they be sellin' kinfolk the yayo
Boy get your mail, don't act like your lil sista
If you lackin' in this mackin' boy I bet you fist her
Get some get right as I come tight to this Doo Doo Dumb
Track, that cat K-Lou, knew how to come
With Mac Dre, that 3 see veteran
More game than March Madness, and dope as exederin
Hit big licks, wouldn't pull no small capers
I'm a be a dog and stay up like wall paper
Look at these break bitches like they stank
Collect my bank and stay sharp as a shank
[Chorus]
A little bit of game is all it takes
A little bit of game goes a long long way
[Verse 1]
Cuddie I don't sleep much, 'cause when I close my eyes
I hear cries from my potna's who lost they lives
Visions of bloody brutality's reality
Gotta stay focused and hope it don't affect my salary
Them calories, they keep my pockets fat, I got to stack a grip
Try not to trip, and keep them gold diggers off my dick
I'm gettin' sick 'cause I drink 24-7
The way I'm livin' now, if I die, there's no heaven
Gotta help my potnas in the pen 'cause they livin' broke
This ain't no joke, on parole and I can't smoke
No sticky indo, roll down the window
'Cause if I breathe(?) the task is back ??? like Nintendo
Gotta play the game like a professional
If you ain't having money I got to let you go
I need to let you know the rules before you ???
Rule number one potna, never should you pimpatrate
I spit this pimpin' straight and cut no addatives
Just nouns and adjectives, how mad you get don't mattter bitch
I'm a player so I serve the game
Maintain campaign, and have thangs
[Chorus 2x]
[Verse 2]
Back in '92 I was drowned in them big cases
But now its '97 and I'm counting them big faces
I switched places with them sardines and squares
The ??? fillet mignon, and garlic bread
A hard head, big heart, and gorilla nuts
Got me mobbin' through the bay like I don't give a fuck
I'm whipped, equipped, and stay dipped in butter sauce
Pill if she's real, no scrill I cut her off
'Cause fine ass bitches with the empty bank book
Is worse than them ugly muthafuckas who can't cook
My game cooked for five years in the feds
Now its time for these game hungry niggas to get fed
I get bread, so them suckas down me
Smile in my face but clown me when they not around me
Talk down on my every move, but I couldnt give a damn
Playas do what they want, and suckas do what they can
[Chorus 2x]
[Verse 3]
7-5-70, my DOB, uhh
And I've been breakin' hoes since '83, what?
Money makers manual, handle my business discretly
don't give my home phone number out, beep me
'Cause ain't no tellin' who be tellin', or who they tell
And plus I heard that they be sellin' kinfolk the yayo
Boy get your mail, don't act like your lil sista
If you lackin' in this mackin' boy I bet you fist her
Get some get right as I come tight to this Doo Doo Dumb
Track, that cat K-Lou, knew how to come
With Mac Dre, that 3 see veteran
More game than March Madness, and dope as exederin
Hit big licks, wouldn't pull no small capers
I'm a be a dog and stay up like wall paper
Look at these break bitches like they stank
Collect my bank and stay sharp as a shank
[Chorus]
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All It Takes Lyrics as written by
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