[Intro: DJ Rated R & Big Will]
Uh
It's that funky shit right here (East End Empire, baby)
Can we get So Infinity? (East End Empire)
Drew Cline
How High: The Mixtape
Ill Spoken, EZ Mac, Beedie, Rated R, Diggz
(East End Empire, baby) Yo, it feel like it's an awards show in this bitch, man (Uh, yo, yo)
Ayo, step back, I'ma have [?] right in this (Motherfuckers)

[Verse 1: Big Will]
It's an assortment of Pittsburgh's hardest
Hardest you brew like a harvest
So they sought us out to pick out which of us come the farthest (Haha)
It'll be "Fuck you" (Fuck you) to them haters down in Honest
'Cause, honestly, who's the hardest at breakin' out of the harness?
And takin' whoever bothers me, my little crew of peoples (Uh-huh)
This the East End Empire, hell-fire's my equal
The heat'll have you arguin', part of you jockin' us (What?)
I'm the arsonist, leave you wonderin', "What was the cause of this?" (Haha)
Chemical flow, was it liquid or solid? (Um)
Well, I'm lettin' you know
I'm ready to blow and that's the goddamn target (What's up?)
I work the game with perfect aim, it's in my pencil (Uh-huh)
And I won't ever fake a trace around the frame of a stencil
And I'm sorry, I won't refrain to offend you
I have your dumb dame runnin' the train
Givin' me brains up in every venue (Biotch)
Those wimpy legs, bitch lookin' chicken like a breast
Been tryna take you to the crib so I can stick it in the flesh
Only pick the best, but you get a test
Gotta see if she can suck it, 'cause I'm sicker with the sex
Girl, slip out of your dress and get comfortable (What?)
This is somethin' for the money-makers out there tryna live they lifes wonderful (Where they at?)
Me and my team will strike the game like a thunderbolt
And leave you wonderin' whether we will never pull the rug from under you (Woo)
Me and my mans tryna set it in motion
We on scam, tryna get it like ocean
Oh shit, this the jam and I'm coastin'
And you know we got a plan to get that big money up in our hands
No bullshit
[Verse 2: Beedie & EZ Mac]
East End, yeah, we know there's young vets in the game (Uh-huh)
Makin' our paper longer 'cause we gettin' this change (This money)
You can't just smoke a piff in the back of the Range
Or up in your crib, stickin' long pipes in your dame (Ayo, girl)
Ill Spoken crew, we are fuckin' insane (Fucking insane)
We bang tracks up, spittin' lyrics aflame (What?)
Your crew is wack 'cause you all sound the same
You need to stop rappin' and chasin' our thing
'Cause this is hip-hop, fuckin' with me, I'll make your wig pop
Sippin' forty ounces down to the last drip-drop
Beedie and Mac climbin' up to the tip-top
We stand up strong, and no, we don't flip-flop
Spittin' wack shit, the crowd be like, "Kid, stop"
Come down to Pittsburgh and get your whole shit knocked
(Ill Spoken, Big Will)

[Verse 3: EZ Mac]
Smokin' extra fire, so we need that gasoline-a
Atom bomb all day, call it Hiroshima
Fresh bag of haze, I ain't fuckin' with the Tina
Turner, burn the weed faster than a cheetah
Reefer smellin' like a bowl of fresh fruit (Ah)
We chemists, cookin' bomb trees in a test tube
I ain't mad sellin' weed to a dude in the eighth grade (Nope, nope)
I sold weed to his dad on the same day (Ha)
It's the mark of the beast, the stroke of a genius
Tryna find a music bitch to play some notes on my penis
Jesus, I think this boy's gone crazy
All day we blaze tree, this bomb hazy (True)
You want some rules? Join the Army or the Navy
Ain't my beat, "Ain't I," JAY-Z (Chyeah)
[Outro: Big Will & DJ Rated R]
Thank you, thank you, thank you everyone for comin' out
East End Empire, baby, The Ill Spoken (That's how it is)
The Ill Spoken, you know we ain't playin' no games