Testo: Everlast. Whitey Ford Sings The Blues. Tired.

Make you go
Soul for soul over mic control
Kid, you can't touch me with a ten foot pole
And I even made the devil sell me his jewels
He was out to cold mock me and play you for fools, kid
You know the rules. Must be smokin' super cools
Tried to diss me on the low got to be a psycho
That's a'ight though. You know you won't see me shakin'
I'm 'bout to blow the spot on who's real and who's fakin'
Who's givin', who's takin', who's livin', who's starvin'
Diss me on the mike it's time for headstone carvin'
And epitaph writin'. I'll strike you like lightnin'
Dissolve you like powder, so turn it up louder
Go on, pump the wattage, get the cheese by cottage
I like mean streaks, I like Spanish freaks
I like Korean barbecue, I like old school beats
But..

CHORUS (2x)
I'm sick of all the shit that's droppin'
And I'm tired of all the lip that's poppin'
And all the whack attitudes people coppin'
I'm only tryin' to get a few heads boppin'

It go bang bang boogie, I'm sick like a loogie
I'm wiser than Bud. I'm thicker than blood
I'm older than time, molded from the divine
How could you be so bold to think that you'll take mine?
I'm cash like Johnny, it's the highway man
And I'm walkin' this line the best way I can
With my farmer's tan and my bloodshot eyes
I ain't bodied no one, I ain't chopped no pies
With the budders from the gutters I'm about to explode
and blow the spot for folk nav up the Gun Hill road
like artillery shells been from heaven and hell
and I'm a say a little prayer for every rapper that fell
'Cause

CHORUS