Lyrics Just Call My Name - Ed O.G, Pete Rock, Jaysa

Just Call My Name

Dog, I’m too menacing
See we all for them Benjamins
It’s dark when we young like venison
Screamin on niggas like Sam Kinision (RRAH~!)
Practice on y’all, like I’m scrimmagin
All beef finishin, real no imaging
I puff purple with a chick that’s cinnamon
Bust your brain cells 'til they hemorrhaging
You haters get stomped with Nike stripes and Timberlands
And switch sides, like balls at Wimbledon
Edo.G, I’m from Humboldt
Fulla cops, cutthroats, blood soaks and gun smoke
Won’t hesitate to show ya why
Outside of them clubs, they gon' blow ya high
I’m back to business… silence every witness
+Roots+ so deep, Alex Haley couldn’t script this
So easy how the Ed O.G.
kick this
And I don’t care how the world depict this
(Edo.G)
(Just call my name!)
You wanna take it from the booth to the streets
And switch from pen and paper to the heats
(Just call my name!)
Legendary, New York and Roxbury
Edo.G, Pete Rock, and Jaysaun, we rock heavy
(Just call my name!)
From the blocks to the hall of fame
It’s all the same, the game don’t change
(Just call my name!)
We ain’t scurred 'round here — nope
Any disrespect’ll get you aired 'round here
(Just call my name)
We only do it for the most thorough, coast to coast
Man, the Heckler & Koch’ll scorch your whole borough (yep!)
Reportin nerve and warfare similar to Edward Morrow journalism
When your cheek bones and buckshot meet, homes, is cataclysm
It don’t matter where you’re from’n, young’n
Jaysaun, you can hear the bullets hummin, young’n
Comin at ya coast signed by Edo.
G as Pete smacks ya
Need desperate applause, we gon' clap ya
Shells spin ya rap actors counter-clockwise and backwards
Your soul torched and burnt down to a
Roach in a Backwoods, last word committee
Blows green all over the crime scene, it’s not pretty
We came to party with friends, sip Bacardi with skins
And litter the stage with bodies and limbs
There ain’t no need to push me, I expose your squad
As hundred percent PUSSY!
Your day job’s way too pushy
Boston’s best, put a O.G.
and cross ya chest
You corny lil' rappers, you lost respect!
It’s a blessing and a curse to be the best and the first
Never give less than hundred percent in a verse
You better off lettin that judge sentence you first
Cause in the rap game, you get sent in a hearse
Don’t confuse me with that gangsta or backpack
Everybody pack gats (BOW!) Play the audience and clap back
Boston beef on Boston streets
A lot of white sheets, people toss heat
Edo, told you faggots +I Got To Have It+
Shit get tragic, niggas get savage
Fathered all my children, blood keeps spilling
Of men, women, and children, and innocent civilians
Four albums deep — same building
Edo.G, Pete Rock, c’mon, make a killing!