I just want to unite the negroes, I went to college for fun. A mind is a terrible thing to waste
The school of hard knocks grindin 101, I learned that time is a terrible thing to waste, higher earning
Look at me I done recaptured my buzz
Because for a minute there I wasn't half the rapper I was
I fell back, relapsed, I was back with a plug
Takin' the chance of a lifetime traffickin' drugs
Trash Bag that's us, no class, that's them
180 on the dash, paper tag, that's him
Lito-guap-a-lot-I-get seven snuffaluffagus
The same one the Joker had, you don't want to fuck with this
Long nose strap like Pinnochio lining
If you ever see it well you know we gonna fire it
Peeped you staring at my chain, I hope you don't try it
Or you'll be tomorrow's hood story, so and so died
What was he thinkin'?
I be thinkin' out loud
Matter of fact I can't stop thinkin'
I don't think I know how
Think I'm playin'? Run off
You know I got my gun dog
You might think that you're tough, but I don't think that's what you want dog
What was I thinkin'? What was I thinkin'? What was I thinkin'?
I wasn't thinkin' at all
What was I thinkin'? What was I thinkin'?
I know what I was thinkin'
At least I was thinkin'
You know me I'm on some fly shit
You ain't got half the keys, nokia, I'm a sidekick
I'm no kia, uh uh, look at my whip
Car serviced for no reason, low mileage
Packages you never had, you just be rapping bout them slabs
What you know about tipping a driver and trapping out a cab?
Or going to play pick and serve 'em out the center
Niggas ordering quarter pounders but you serve 'em at Mrs. Winner's
When I was just beginner I played on expert
And players kept it trill because I had the best work
And I always had the best price, but guess what? Guess who got the work, Uncle Sam nephew, Lito!
And I ain't even taxing but when the girl come in I'm like sorry Ms. Jackson
I'm for real, I'm gonna be on some Tiger shit, I'm talkin' white chicks on the side, bricks in my ride
Livin' in the past, yeah different times
I use it to cure boredom or for an alibi
Or when I'm satellite high, smokin' on that Madeline
Red haired dro, Lito is real, they're Palestine
That's why some of my raps come across as battle rhymes
That's because it make me mad when they braid the line
I lapped 'em like Santa Claus, that means I passed 'em by
You don't grind like me dog, grind like Dale Jr. last half of his last name
With the T off, T off like G off, should've hollered at me for the pound I would've took a G off