Tekst:
The Jungle Brothers Playin With Fire

before you even start to Playin with fire - don't you know that you're gonna get lit? Playin with fire - don't you know when to quit? Playin with fire

of Bubba as yo' brother the color of mayonnaise We lockin' up these airwaves from La Grange to that staircase And your projects up in Queens with no

't in the mood for playin around The mother cries as she sees her young one ^--> {lah lahhhhhhh-lah.. lah-lahhhh..} Victim of a fool while playin in

[Talking] Uh-huh-uh Tell the band they better play my song We got the youngest president in the building Gutta Music Tell the band they better play my

same But he's signed up as a soldier out to play the music game There are fake patches on his jacket He's used bleach to fade his jeans With a brand

block we still play And block parties in tha projects lastin' way past daylight A young nigga learned to break night Used to play fight with my homies

The sun's shinin') Loud an' clear, bright an' early, listen I don't hate players, I don't love the game I'm the shot clock, way above the game To be point blank with

into the fire Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack and A Streetcar Named Desire, who got my back? In the line of fire holding back, what? My peoples if you with

or pharmaceuticals for the body ain't suitable Stick with liquid me and trick we've drop A paper which you use my tongue to lick with Tricky Trouble