Get It In Ohio

[Intro] What up, Midwest? They forgot about the fourth coast It ain't nothing though What up Arkansas, Minnesota, Kansas? Kentucky, Missouri, everybody in the Lou'! [Verse 1] Thinking bout Guy Fisher Never met him, but God damn, that's my nigga! I figure real estate invested pie flipper Never snitch, me, I'm in a bathrobe, fly slippers (I-80) Left Chicago with good money for 5 drops Westside, did the Southside like the White Sox (What up Stony Island?) Van Buren, Pulaski, K-Town is contra (Westside) They'll dearly depart ya, in front of MacArthur's (What up Madison?) I'm the author for gangsters, tough guys Did the whole Ohio, but I started off a Buckeye Columbus to 'Nati; them towns I raped 'em Few clowns was hatin', moved my pounds to Dayton And in Akron, my niggas they would throw things Not King James, these were coke kings And you acting grown, doggy you ain't back at home The smack, it's on, wrapped in chrome You better get a chaperone [Hook] If you know like I know, you should lie low Killa, I used to get it in Ohio Don't forget the Chi though, guns are like a pyro You keep playing, you will look like a gyro [Verse 2] Go 'head and hate me hater Cause I'm flyer than a aviator? Well, you'll get smacked with the radiator And I get catered player. "Wanna talk?" "Maybe later." Told her, her time was up, '88 her, Flavor-Flaved her Need your neck choked; rather, your neck broke You dead broke, yes folks, the jewels are like egg yolks And you'll get yoked up, switchblade-poked up Bitch-made since 6th grade, he need his rope cut Cowboy roped up, "y'all boys sold what?" Know what? Dope, crack, and coke is in the coat tucked Roll up, hold up, family, this a hold up! Get close up, soaked up, I'm KG, post up Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts Family getting bread, well he about to get his loaf cut Y'all doped up, this game is sewed up Malcolm X: tell the white bitch, "Yo, I want my toes sucked" [Hook] If you know like I know, you should lie low Killa, I used to get it in Ohio Don't forget the Chi though, guns are like a pyro You keep playing, you will look like a gyro [Verse 3] I'd rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6 My 12 and 12 -- well, they carry my bricks And them 12-12 fiends, they're married to sniff And the V12, that's on various trips Y'all make a brother laugh, me I took another path Come into my habitat, hovercrafts, bubble baths Duffle bags stuffed with cash, fell in love with math I got the green Benz, red Range, mustard Jag White coke, tan dope, black gun, trey deuce Silver bullets, purple piff, blue pills, Grey Goose Pull out the rat-tat-tat Duck duck, say goose Beige coupe, suede roofs, send him up to Jesús (Jesus) H-deuce, yea yea, piss off the state troops See me, then they don't, I disappear, say, "poof" Play Zeus, homeboy, get a replaced tooth Not Pac, mean dust when a nigga say, "juice" Killa!