Everlast

(It's Whitey. . . and the Likwit) repeats several times
Watch me rock these sounds from the Polo Grounds
To the Sunset Strip, I'm like an acid trip
I'm flashing back on ya, run it up on ya
Born in Hempstead L.I., raised in California
Mister entrepeneur, I rock the shot that's sure
I need a dime plus more, I sip the finely corked
I want the cash in hand, and the beats front land
And I get loco from Acapulco to Japan
Mister Whitey Ford gets terrain explored
You perpetrate that Ford, you must be out your gourd
It's time make like break nights kid, and praise the lord
Keep the faith, smoke your eigth
Continue stackin' papers all up in my safe
Commence to motivate, assume an altered state
And kill your whole wack show like I'm Edgar Alan Poe
It's the psychotic thriller, no peckerwood's iller
Than this freckled face man with the farmer's tan
If I can't bomb on you, I'm bombin' on your man
Chorus:
Some get the shit, sugar, some get the stains
Some get the muscles, baby, some get the brains