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(feat. Eastwood, Eddie Griffin) [Intro: Crooked & E.G.] Hell mothafuckin yeah! E.G. I bet you didnt know I thought you knew Yeah I bet you didnt know Yeah, Tell 'em though What You Thought you knew about me? [Verse 1: Crooked I] Niggaz think they know me, see me in traffic Yeah I'm Mr. Rapper, But I'm Mr. Jacker, Mr. Youngpistolpacker One shot should lack ya Frag to your physical and crack ya I shoot faster than a Toronto Raptor And please dont judge me from the ra-di-o Try to play me like I'm CBS, I'm HBO I'm crazy yo, Rated R with the crazy flow I hear the same shit every place he go Man Crooked only rap about money, only rap about guns, only rap about sluts wrap your mouth around some nuts We from Tha Row we dont say our shit clean Letras de cancionesSo fuck you A&R's, we carry AR-15's You gotta reach the pages thats beneath the covers I got a foul mouth but I respect peoples mothers And I dont need yo punk ass police to judge us All we need is for the streets to love us But I bet you didnt know [Hook:] What, What, What, What, What, What, What Thought they knew about me What, What, What, What, What, What, What Thought they knew about me [Verse 2: Eastwood] Me and my life, through these wicked streets The hard times made a nigga clock his G's From Cali to Overseas I'm a beast, the beat chopper East, the heat luncher with an intellect my frame to cock and let it pop ya Can't stop the unstopable Competition impossible I'm leavin you weanie niggaz flatline in the hospital Situation critical, that he say, she say Or get that ass done in an alley we say I'm a Boss Baller, On Tha Row, A Shot Caller E.G., Crooked I and the Wood, we slick talkers Uncle Curtis got some bad hoes And Uncle Bucky got some bad dope, let's put it in a mix and smoke The E-A-S-T-W-O-O-D So why they hate me, it's crazy Cause I came from a dysfunctional family My life deserves a grammy Coward niggaz kick rocks for taht ass get popped stomped out and dropped So what you thought nigga? [Hook 2:] But you really don't You really don't know about me (Oh yeah, yeah) But you really don't You really don't know about me [Verse 3: E.G.] You thought you knew, what you knew But you dont know me homie You thought you seen, what you saw But you can't see me homie The Fed's watchin my words Cause they dont like what they heard A black man with some knowledge But they got nothin on me I dropped the sack a long time ago And pit up the mic So got some game from uncle Bucky, And now I'm tight On the streets to the stage you dont know about me I did the same pimp game And now I'm readin bout it From the streets of KC to the CPT Shook up the hood and hollywood and now I'm on TV You can't see a nigga like E.G. I'm here to set your bitch asses free Here till i got it deep Get On your knees and say please, please, please Like James Brown Even stanks in your mothafuckin draws Gone with jiggle on my balls And walk heads down the hall [Hook:] What, What, What, What, What, What, What Thought they knew about me What, What, What, What, What, What, What Thought they knew about me From Letras Mania