| Still here, played the hand I was dealt with
|
| Hands on, but still never felt shit
|
| I put it on in its proper place
|
| New year, new deal, ‘bout to cop a piece
|
| Police stop and ask you where you’re going
|
| So focused, don’t give a fuck where you’re going
|
| Where you sleep or where you’re hoeing
|
| Or how you know firsthand from so and so and
|
| The maverick, but I’m not from Dallas
|
| But I still get love in Texas, no malice
|
| The spit I talk is so callous
|
| Three dimes in my kitchen, no Alice
|
| Mr. Gorilla Monsoon
|
| No raps for these lames, why
|
| Haters, quinch up your face
|
| Have toast to that, the loud will stink up the place
|
| The legendary Diggin' In The Crates
|
| Andre The Giant
|
| A to the motherfucking G
|
| A shine in the mental is A.G., dog
|
| A.G.: I started out with Diggin' In The Crates. |
| You know, I’m still part of
|
| Diggin' In The Crates. |
| Big ups to Fat Joe, O.C., Lord Finesse, Diamond D,
|
| Buckwild. |
| You know what I’m saying
|
| So go get it if you want it
|
| But you won’t touch it if you can’t feel it
|
| Talking ‘bout the spirit, listen close, you can hear it
|
| All reliable is undeniable
|
| Once they lie to you, then it’s checkmate
|
| Like a slug when it penetrates your chest plate
|
| You’re as strong as your weakest link
|
| I try hard not to be the one to make a sink
|
| Eye to eye with the struggle and I won’t blink
|
| I just chuckle inside, give a little wink
|
| See I can see the future with a panoramic view
|
| The man in the mirror saying «damn, you’re the truth»
|
| Cologne,, I’m right at home
|
| Your favorite rapper can’t even hold my microphone
|
| Smoke the loud and the demons get quiet
|
| Hear god loud and clear, the room get silent
|
| This side over here, say
|
| On my side over here, say O. C
|
| Crowd: O. C
|
| Yeah and yo, I want the Brooklyn side on this side to say Big L
|
| Crowd: Big L
|
| Oh, one more time, we got to outdo that side
|
| Dudes is legendary, but nothing like a folklore
|
| Touched France where people say bonjour
|
| The Netherlands where the weed and the dope stores
|
| Half way legit, overlooked by Dutch law
|
| My crew won an umpteenth passport
|
| Twenty deep, rappers need a crash course
|
| Born and bred in New York where the cost
|
| Million dollar loss, paper down on the asphalt
|
| Draped and fatigued, so I blend with crooks and thieves
|
| BK nigga, indeed
|
| BX, next to kin, first cousin, words summons ghosts
|
| To anybody close that we consider brothers
|
| Musical séance of some sort
|
| Flying phase on admitted, they respond like a Ouija board
|
| To the unseen forces, I advise you move cautious
|
| Bad spirits make me nauseous |