[Intro: Crooked & E.G.]
|
Hell mothafuckin yeah!
|
E.G.
|
I bet you didn't know
|
I thought you knew
|
Yeah I bet you didn't 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 don't 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
|
a˘ć?Man Crooked only rap about money,
|
only rap about guns, only rap about slutsa˘ć©«
|
wrap your mouth around some nuts
|
We from Tha Row we don't say our shit clean
|
So 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 don't need yo punk ass police to judge us
|
All we need is for the streets to love us
|
But I bet you didn't 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 that 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 don't 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 don't 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 don't 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
|
|
-----------------
|
I Thought U Knew
|
| Crooked I |
