[intro]

[Hook: Rob White]

Whatup! if you know me then you know

That I ain't on the mic being phony for the hoes

And if you don't know me don't "bro" me

[it's a] thin line between my dogs and my homies, show me your side..

Whatup! to all my listeners abroad

I know I'm doing it wrong if all my listeners are broads

When I listen to the Gods, I realize MY chances are slim

But I don't listen to odds

[Verse 1: Rob White]

<>Let me just say <>

Whatup, all the people listening that's EVER met me?

[I] bet you I was fresh as fuck if we was kickin it

But you don't know what style is, so you'd probably bet me

I was testing my luck with all your chicks and shit

And now I'm R.I.P.'ing shit, tombstone scripture verses

Without flashing cheese Co' still picture perfect

I put my 2 cents in, that's only if she's worth it

Times five in face is when the chick deserves it..

Real shit, I'm EXTRA down to earth..

Even though I'm known to get around the earth [I] hit most of the U.S.,

[a] LOT of the foreign turf, Australia's about the only place I haven't gone to surf..

(yeah)

And that's before you heard a verse

Or my voice

Or my choice of female

That I'm likely to throw my email or my number to

And those females that slumbered through I see'em now and they be comin to...

[hook]

[Verse 2: Rob White]

<>Let me also say<>

To everybody that DON'T know me, what up homies..?

[I] guess we'll get aquatinted over beats

But I'd rather get to know you in person runnin the streets homie..

So you can put my actions to the speech

Since cameras don't be snapping on me

You can't follow my every move in a mag

Or every girl that I bag

Or every whip that I drag out the spot to go cruise wit...

So at least if you follow my music you can know what I'm doing cause what I holler is true shit

[I] got my own paper your dollar is useless

Labels, you can't pay me to spit about shit that ain't me cause THAT

Would be the same thing that made me ever view this..

As the worst place

That's why a nigga can't stop until I'm first place.. in this cursed race..

It's known to turn a nigga's life to shambles but

I'm known to gamble that's word to my birthplace

[hook]

[Verse 3: Rob White]

<>now I GOTTA say<>

Whatup to those that REALLY know me?

Those that know OF me [are] going [to] be telling all [of] their friends that we was really homies

And those [are] the ones that shrugged their shoulders when I was flowing on Facebook, but let me separate the real from the phony;

If you ain't get busy wit me, same time, same chick

[then] you're just riding Cane's dick like a broad would

And if your son ain't my God Son you're faker than Drake, telling people that we're on one, [what the] fuck is THAT!?

If you ain't got a Cabernet Lac..

Or a Royal Cutlass you not the boys that I fucks wit

7 dudes total I ever felt related to so if I make a "started from the bottom,"

No replacement crew!

Young Eight-O makes 8 though, his face is new.. (yeah)

But it's like I knew him since the age of 2

And then of course the 9-iron is my dog Putt

[we] going Tiger with the wood on these broads what.. Up?

[hook]