| Yeah |
| Hear that shit? |
| Yo! |
| Ready to let you know |
| It’s your boy O-Dash man |
| You know what I’m saying? |
| Y’all motherfuckers better stop sleeping out here (Naw, don’t do that) |
| You better wake the fuck up for real |
| Open your eyelids |
| Nicholay (sp?) |
| It’s the League’s Tracy McGrady |
| Faggots gonna hate me (huh) |
| Putting up MVP numbers |
| Spitting 12 months this summer |
| Eliminate |
| And watch cowards immitate how I demonstrate how words |
| supposed to penitrate |
| Punks mad at O 'cause they can’t get a date |
| Nigga wait |
| Give me a second to get it straight |
| Haters see me in pub, want my shit |
| See my rasta bitch-es and want my dick |
| That’s a homo |
| That’s why I don’t deal with them no more |
| Bunch of Doctor Evils trying to steal a nigga mojo |
| Wanna say he got dough (uh huh) |
| Say he got flow |
| By the fifteenth I’m like 'Yo, where your dough go?' |
| A si, A si |
| In other words, you’re so-so |
| Hate O for moving blocks of cocoa for dough, no? |
| Fast breaking a drop, fuck a T-O |
| Coach told me to shoot whenever in doubt |
| D’s League got the components to be disected |
| Game over turn your style so ecleptic |
| Coming through beneath radars, undetected |
| 20 bars of perfection to pay respected, nigga! |