I got a head start like pre-schoolers

And niggas 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 niggas 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 nigga 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?"