[Intro: Dankery Harv]
Yeah, yeah, what's the dealy?
My nigga Dilla – for life!
McNasty Records, uh, yeah
[Verse: J Dilla]
I come from a long line
Of pimps, hustlers, soldiers, and thugs
With 7 Mile in the vein, and soul through the blood
From a place called the Mo', dawg
Where most of my niggas can't hold a job
But they can hold them a gun
Born and raised in the heart of this bitch
My father done started this shit
I started spinning parties at six
Blessed with the hardest of kicks from Jangle to Magics
And my uncle used to be in the attic, sc-scr-scratching
He used to hit the weed and then pass it
Damn, look at me with the habit
Look at me counting my scratch, speeding through traffic
Uh! But – the flow is colder than the floor in a cell
So bring your weed, I got a story to tell
[Interlude: Dankery Harv]
Yeah, my nigga Dilla's been in the game for years, you know what I mean?
Respect the game, it's all real
So, yo – it's time to cake up, baby
[Chorus: J Dilla & Frank Nitt]
You think you know, you have no idea
This is the diary of who? (J Dilla)
You think you know, you have no idea
This is the diary of who? (J Dilla)
You think you know, you have no idea
This is the diary of who? (J Dilla)
You think you know, you have no idea
This is the diary of who? (J Dilla)
You think you know...
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB