the last thing i heard my man say as he drove away that day, 
was "the game's been good to me". 
but i don't think he took into consideration 
that that white powder had destroyed the lame in this game.

as he drove futher up through "Stoney Island", 
i just knew he was counting his dead presidents; 
waiting on the day he could get Bill on a bill. 

His gold fronts easily separates from the blunt 
dangling between his lips as he turns left onto 63rd; 
the thugs of his future and the enemies of his past 
where checking for signs of something through his back window glass 
and i really couldn't tell it was about to go down

the last thing my man said to me as he dropped me off on the corner 
to get my momma some milk was "the game's been good to me" baby girl;
 and just like powder being blown by the wind off of Lake Michigan, 
the gold rims of the grill he fashioned for his ride, 
were blown to pieces as the cars just drove by

the glass shattered
the blunt burnt on
the enemies strolled slowly
the thugs seemed to be more grown
just because of how good the game was to my man

i stand on this corner now
ten years later
still hearing my boo with those words
just coming from a different set of lips
who enjoy these different set of hips
and the game's still good to me
too