I got a head start like pre-schoolers
And n***as couldn't fade me
If they was in the barbers chair
With the case, 50 bag and 10 coolies
You could use Windex but can't see through us
Tryin' to be hard like Dewar's
Scotch, I sat back and watched
And peeped all parts of enemies that are arch
That are gettin' ironed out like starch
With more madness than March
So know the time like Swatch
And come test me and Nestle
You wanna be fly but you pesky
Arrest me, comin' up short like Joe Pesci
Couldn't score an open goal if you was Wayne Gretzky
The next G, emcee, player pimp, to attempt
To represent to a hardcore
When they style is impotent
Is gettin' sent, wiped off like lint
And that's that, cause I ain't got to rhyme about gats
Just facts, chumps be on they onesies like jacks
Fakin' jacks, I'm in'ta breakin' backs like Christopher Reeve
Cause there's too much shit I gotta achieve
And I believe, from the 'bury to Belize
We hot, Ed O.G and Nestle what you got
[Hook]
[Cut/scratched] "The ghetto, Mr Ed O what you got?"
My shit be mad hot when I blow up the sp-id-ot
"The ghetto, Mr Ed O what you got?"
Aiyyo fuck all the props, I want knots and yachts
"The ghetto, Mr Ed O what you got?"
Give me change like slots, and 304s in flocks
"The ghetto, Mr Ed O what you got?"
Yeah yeah

I thank god I awoke
I'd rather be paid than broke
Cause n***as in the north-east don't wet you
They leave you soaked, smoked
I'm too hot to freeze
They couldn't see us like the breeze
Lookin' out for black hoodies
Threes and trees
And enemies who wanna cut you like lumber
But I'll be in the cut, on the rocks
At Malcom X in the summer
Scoopin' mad numbers
In the trees in the tundra, from the ground that be under
And parlayin'
Havin' chicks from out of state on some Swiss *?*
Obeyin' when they layin' more attention to the payin'
What up my n***a Dre in, Springfield
I hope you flyin', and your wing's healed
You don't know me when my top's off like OE
You show me, a better connect in Humbolt and OP
That's my way, *?* he couldn't make you stay
We be blowin' up the sp-id-ot like Timothy McVeigh
'till I'm old and grey, you was once soft 'till you sat out
And got hard like Clay, I set it off on any day
[Hook]

[Cut/scratched x6] "The ghetto, Mr Ed O what you got?"