| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| I got that pistol grip pump sittin' pretty in the trunk
|
| Blow your wig to the side like hair on Donald Trump
|
| On some Gang Starr shit, execution of a chump
|
| Evolution of a villain refillin' revolvers
|
| I’m still in a state of mind like a stainless nine is on my lap
|
| Starter jacket on my back, with a black Raiders cap
|
| Rappers resurrect the crack like they brought Reagan back
|
| You could run a 100 miles but you’re still afraid of Ap
|
| Hit record on your radios to take my verse
|
| The only way to get to space and escape this Earth
|
| Stick to the facts, Ap got the wickedest raps
|
| OG like a Raiders cap with snaps in the back
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| I got my Raider cap old like a Betamax
|
| Tats all grey and black bringin' '88 back
|
| Sacks full of crack, brick phone in my backpack
|
| Parker with the Marcus Allen jersey that’ll match that
|
| That’s that shit I used to rock back
|
| When I used to breakdance when I used to pop
|
| I was always into somethin' bumpin' N.W.A. |
| in the Cutlass
|
| Me and the homies sippin' OE I was always a drunkard
|
| You know how 'em L.A. dudes do, always got a deuce deuce
|
| Don’t say nothin' stupid or somebody gonna shoot you
|
| Open up the moon roof, yellin' Demigoon crew
|
| Somebody call 911 tell 'em you got a boo boo
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| You know me, sippin' on a 40 of OE
|
| On my stoop as a shorty shoutin' «Fuck Tha Police»
|
| A nigga with a attitude but I ain’t Yella
|
| Hoodie, I touch more money than bank tellers
|
| As a young cat standin' on black with my Raiders cap
|
| While y’all was whilin' with medallions tryin' to fade to black
|
| It’s all good though, I ain’t tryin' to hate on that
|
| But Mo’s hood so I stay where the danger’s at
|
| Niggas slangin' crack, gangstas wavin' gats
|
| Pimp slappin' their bitch, askin' «where my paper at?»
|
| I was amazed by that, influenced the way I act
|
| Never met my dad, the truth is I’m raised off rap
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| I am MC Ren with pale skin rockin' my Raiders brim
|
| Got a toaster that I ain’t puttin' bagels in
|
| I got a posse full of apostles
|
| You a posse full of possums always hidin' while we hoo-ridin'
|
| I judge who I shoot
|
| So when my crew holds a grudge it’s a judge that I shoot
|
| We disassemble Nazi members
|
| Get totaled comin' at me top speed on a Kawasaki Ninja
|
| Catch you out in LA at the Staples Center, Office Depot
|
| You won’t see though staples dead center in your retina
|
| Yeah, I slammed it there and they ain’t have cameras there
|
| But if they did you’d see the second comin' of the man upstairs
|
| Muthafucka
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| Old-school, got my Raiders cap
|
| Got my, got my Raiders cap
|
| Nothin' you could say |