You know it's Whitey
And the Likwits
I say it's Whitey

And the Likwits
You know it's Whitey
And the Likwits

Watch me rock these sounds
From the polo grounds
To the sunset strip

Like an acid trip
I'll flash it back on ya
Run it up on ya

I was born in Hempstead live
Raised in California
Mr. Entreprenuer

I rock the shot that's sure
I need a dime plus more
I sip the fine liquor

I want the cash in hand
Snd the beach front land
And I get loco

From Acolpoco to Japan
Mr. Whitey Ford gets terrain explored
You perpetrate that Ford

You must be out of your gourd
It's time to make like Greg Nice, kid
And praise the Lord

Keep the faith
Smoke an eighth
Until you stack the papers all up in my safe

Commence the motivate
Consume an altered state
I'm killin' your whole wack show

Like I'm Edgar Allan Poe
With the psychotic thriller
No peckerwood 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 %#@!, sugar, some get the stains
Some get the muscles, baby, some get the brains
Some get the powers, love, some get the papers

Some catch the vibes and some catch the vaporsBetter...
Praise the Lord keep keep the faith (X4)


I say roll to the rock
Rock to the roll
Whitey Ford brings the devastatin' mic control

Like Derryl McDaniel
A hundred G's venue
The tip's get clocked, baby

The bond's get stocked
My style gets rocked
Just like doors get knocked

With legendary status
Like my name's Lou Brock
And my lazairre sounds

Be shakin' the grounds
Huntin' down crews
Like packs of bloodhounds

Snatchin' off crowns
And meltin' 'em down
I once was lost, see

But now I'm found
Amazing grace
How sweet the sound

And when the saints come marchin' in (keep the faith)
I'm Nestle's Alpine White / Classic rapper's delight
All these shorties pullin' tools

'Cause they know they can't fight
I bank my selections on worldwide connections
So get the seven digits, baby

Never burn your britches

CHORUS (X2)