Unlock ya locks, and keep ya keys

The Pac in me, got me thinkin deeply

I got to shock MC's, wit my philosophy

Cause I think very deeply

Where I come from, where you sweat ya pen up

Young gun rep-resenter, from the Ep-icenter

The microphone fienin, for a microphone

Before he knew what a microphone mean

Wit them four pounds, and they soundin them off

And them slugs, get them thugs, and the ground, get the chalk

Niggaz hearts is dissolvin, involved in

What Farakhan and, Jim Brown couldn't solve





I'ma tell you what I know, what I know





It's them +Boyz In the Hood+ it's always hard

You come talkin that trash, they'll pull ya card

Who would have known, that the boy growin up playin them cards

Will soon know the music he wrote, it was so true

Who could raise me, after I been amazed by Dre

And N.W.A., and you couldn't pay me

To back the staff for free, I will believe

It ain't nothin +Shady+ in the +Aftermath+

Perhaps when you unwrappin the plastic

You respect whatever you hear, and ya styles is growin

Them guys is clonin, them pioneers

Rappers wanna be classic, like they Clef, Pras, and Warren





I'ma tell you what I know, what I know





Elvis - was a hero to most

But he never meant shit to me, it's statements

Like that made me gage, White, Black, hate to make

Me say - I like, when they fight back, they

Me and rap, I vent myself

Leanin back, not knowin that I meant myself

A lesson comin fast, you dudes better catch it

Whenever the future answers ya questions from the past

And hold that, I'm spillin these cold raps

Cause I am a +Throwback+ you feelin the soldier

And keep tryin, to keep up wit the kind of guy

That'll play you until they fatally say that the game's over





I'ma tell you what I know, what I know





Oh my God, I destroy cities like the Blob

Goin from city to city, seein who I can rob

Goin from makin them poems up, in my garage

Then goin on major tours wit, me and my squad

Goin from listenin to Reggie, to meeting him

Wit my palms sweaty, to him, telling me - I'm dead meat

Goin from likin, to spray the club after a night

That didn't go my way, to plug a writin for Dre

You damn right I was raised, the amazin

Hand-writin on the same page, that you can't type on

So I black out, the usual same way

The old fashion rap, til it's no lights on





I'ma tell you what I know, what I know