You know its Whitey
And the Likwits
I say its Whitey
And the Likwits
You know its Whitey
And the Likwits
Watch me rock these sounds
From the polo grounds
To the sunset strip
Like an acid trip
Ill flash it back on ya
Run it up on ya
I was born in Hempstead live
Raised in California
Mr. Entreprenuer
I rock the shot thats sure
I need a dime plus more
I sip the fine liquor
I want the cash in hand
Snd the beach front land
And I get loco
From Acolpoco to Japan
Mr. Whitey Ford gets terrain explored
You perpetrate that Ford
You must be out of your gourd
Its time to make like Greg Nice, kid
And praise the Lord
Keep the faith
Smoke an eighth
Until you stack the papers all up in my safe
Commence the motivate
Consume an altered state
Im killin your whole wack show
Like Im Edgar Allan Poe
With the psychotic thriller
No peckerwood iller
Than this freckled-face man
With the farmers tan
If I cant bomb on you
Im bombin on your man
Some get the shit, sugar, some get the stains
Some get the muscles, baby, some get the brains
Some get the powers, love, some get the papers
Some catch the vibes and some catch the vapors Better...
Praise the Lord keep keep the faith
I say roll to the rock
Rock to the roll
Whitey Ford brings the devastatin mic control
Like Derryl McDaniel
A hundred Gs venue
The tips get clocked, baby
The bonds get stocked
My style gets rocked
Just like doors get knocked
With legendary status
Like my names Lou Brock
And my lazairre sounds
Be shakin the grounds
Huntin down crews
Like packs of bloodhounds
Snatchin off crowns
And meltin em down
I once was lost, see
But now Im found
Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
And when the saints come marchin in (keep the faith)
Im Nestles Alpine White / Classic rappers delight
All these shorties pullin tools
Cause they know they cant fight
I bank my selections on worldwide connections
So get the seven digits, baby
Never burn your britches
|
