(feat. Eastwood, Eddie Griffin)



[Intro: Crooked & E.G.]

Hell mothafuckin yeah!

E.G.

I bet you didnt know

I thought you knew

Yeah I bet you didnt know

Yeah, Tell 'em though

What You Thought you knew about me?



[Verse 1: Crooked I]

Niggaz think they know me, see me in traffic

Yeah I'm Mr. Rapper,

But I'm Mr. Jacker, Mr. Youngpistolpacker

One shot should lack ya

Frag to your physical and crack ya

I shoot faster than a Toronto Raptor

And please dont judge me from the ra-di-o

Try to play me like I'm CBS, I'm HBO

I'm crazy yo, Rated R with the crazy flow

I hear the same shit every place he go

„Man Crooked only rap about money,

only rap about guns, only rap about sluts“

wrap your mouth around some nuts

We from Tha Row we dont say our shit clean

So fuck you A&R's, we carry AR-15's

You gotta reach the pages thats beneath the covers

I got a foul mouth but I respect peoples mothers

And I dont need yo punk ass police to judge us

All we need is for the streets to love us

But I bet you didnt know



[Hook:]

What, What, What, What, What, What, What

Thought they knew about me

What, What, What, What, What, What, What

Thought they knew about me



[Verse 2: Eastwood]

Me and my life, through these wicked streets

The hard times made a nigga clock his G's

From Cali to Overseas

I'm a beast, the beat chopper

East, the heat luncher

with an intellect my frame to cock and let it pop ya

Can't stop the unstopable

Competition impossible

I'm leavin you weanie niggaz flatline in the hospital

Situation critical, that he say, she say

Or get that ass done in an alley we say

I'm a Boss Baller, On Tha Row, A Shot Caller

E.G., Crooked I and the Wood, we slick talkers

Uncle Curtis got some bad hoes

And Uncle Bucky got some bad dope,

let's put it in a mix and smoke

The E-A-S-T-W-O-O-D

So why they hate me, it's crazy

Cause I came from a dysfunctional family

My life deserves a grammy

Coward niggaz kick rocks

for taht ass get popped

stomped out and dropped

So what you thought nigga?



[Hook 2:]

But you really don't

You really don't know about me (Oh yeah, yeah)

But you really don't

You really don't know about me



[Verse 3: E.G.]

You thought you knew, what you knew

But you dont know me homie

You thought you seen, what you saw

But you can't see me homie

The Fed's watchin my words

Cause they dont like what they heard

A black man with some knowledge

But they got nothin on me

I dropped the sack a long time ago

And pit up the mic

So got some game from uncle Bucky,

And now I'm tight

On the streets to the stage

you dont know about me

I did the same pimp game

And now I'm readin bout it

From the streets of KC to the CPT

Shook up the hood and hollywood

and now I'm on TV

You can't see a nigga like E.G.

I'm here to set your bitch asses free

Here till i got it deep

Get On your knees and say please, please, please

Like James Brown

Even stanks in your mothafuckin draws

Gone with jiggle on my balls

And walk heads down the hall



[Hook:]

What, What, What, What, What, What, What

Thought they knew about me

What, What, What, What, What, What, What

Thought they knew about me