[Intro]
That's right, Boston
Yeah, Boston niggas be rollin' dolo from state to state
It's nothing, we do this
[Chorus]
Still no body guards, I stay sucker free
Still sling rhymes hard, I stay puffing trees
Rollin' dolo from state to state
Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
[Verse 1: Guru]
Yo, jealousy can kill, so I test my skill
Any pomp, I can romp and stomp at will
Now as I gets my thrill, it's like my daily drill
You spill raps and invade, 'cause I've been made to ill
You can't talk the talk, you can't walk the walk
Been dwelling with the muggers and the murderers talk
You're shocked by the way I regulate ya, obliterate ya
Erase your obsolete weak cheap data
[Verse 2: Edo.G]
It's this Hip-Hop art I stay true to, crack brew to
I fuck your girl a lot better than you do
The type of lyrics I spit will never fail you
Battle you online, type a letter, forward it, then email you
Take you off the track and derail you
Get the hell out my face, don't want to be near you
Don't want your snippets, hate your album and your headshots
It's Edo.G in the black fitted Red Sox
Thug in the streets, but you soft at home
You got skills off the dome?
I'ma off your dome
This is a battlefield, no time for screaming and yelling
You get smacked in the face, use your ice for the swelling
Besides the records I'm selling
My mama raised no felon
On the hunt like Helen
For wack rappers who's jellin'
This is drama, not a kiddie show
You want to get fucked up
Like the low-budget video
I know a lot of time's passed
The Edo.G is still here and ya'll still half-ass
[Chorus]
(Ya'll still half ass... ya'll half-ass rappers)
Still no body guards, I stay sucker free
Still sling rhymes hard, I stay puffing trees
Rollin' dolo from state to state
Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
[Verse 3: Big Shug]
It's the return of the mouth-musher, skull-crusher
Pack myself with two nines and cold crush ya
That nigga all day beating down suckers
Sporting the game, making it get more rougher
The face-puncher, the hot-cruncher
The have-it-with-gods for the law out-to-luncher
The seven-thirty, know I'm more than a sick man
The streets raised this wild ass nigga from "Murderpan"
The real rapper, the pimp-slapper
The put-on-the-socks-with-your-suit and stay dapper
Whoa, the chump-choker, the Backwood tree smoker
Stash the gats in the sofa, it's all over
One life to live and that's that
I keep my lyrics heavily packed and cocked back
I'll smash you right in your fucking face, black
I'm the realest nigga, what you know about that?
I'ma let my skills shine like brand new chrome
And tell them son niggas you run with that daddy's home
I roll dolo from state to state, it feels great
And in 2000, get on the stage and demonstrate
[Chorus]
Still no body guards, I stay sucker free
Still sling rhymes hard, I stay puffing trees
Rollin' dolo from state to state
Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
[Verse 4: Guru]
No holds barred, I'm going all out
I don't think you're for real, I think you're all mouth
So bust one for my dogs locked down
And for my real rap lovers, know I got it locked down
Until you're blocked down, punks get beat down
You can't rock a party, take a seat, you clown
I frown upon scavengers and wannabe's
Commit atrocities upon MC's who think they heart is mean
[Chorus]
Still no body guards, I stay sucker free
Still sling rhymes hard, I stay puffing trees
Rollin' dolo from state to state
Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
[Verse 5: Krumbsnatcha]
Smokey gray Lexus, diamond necklace
We livin' reckless and die for these inspectors
The four pounders, cock the name on you out-of-towners
And what, Henny filled cups, peep the diamond cut
Ice, paradise, living in the thug life
Married to the game, fuck a lame diggin' out your wife
Loving all these block wars, do shit that's uncalled for
Make money in your spot, get it locked, shoot down four
For all your ghetto revenues
Spraying through any avenue
Running, I'll be grabbing you
Hog-tied and smacking you
With heaters on purpose
Hold you hostage like you was Turkish
And your pussy ass elevated, gut it down your worthless
These thoughts is vivid and we talk if you live it
Rappers brag about a town, but don't get respect in it
Ain't a damn shame, what's thats man's name
That got a flame to his nut
Clearing out his spot with a rusted hook
Trust me, it's not just entertainment
Ask the judges that face me on the arraignment
Plus I came with, hundreds of niggas that think the same
The plastic hotter than acid to melt the brain
You know the rest, man