D.I.T.C. - Connect 3 lyrics

[Intro: DJ Premier] DITC Uh [Verse 1: Diamond D] Still here, played the hand I was dealt with Hands on, but still never felt sh** I put it on in its proper place New year, new deal, ‘bout to cop a piece Police stop and ask you where you're going So focused, don't give a f** where you're going Where you sleep or where you're hoeing Or how you know firsthand from so and so and The maverick, but I'm not from Dallas But I still get love in Texas, no malice The spit I talk is so callous Three dimes in my kitchen, no Alice Mr. Gorilla Monsoon No raps for these lames, why [?] Haters, quinch up your face Have toast to that, the loud will stink up the place [Transition] The legendary Diggin' In The Crates Andre The Giant A to the motherf**ing G A shine in the mental is A.G., dog A.G.: I started out with Diggin' In The Crates. You know, I'm still part of Diggin' In The Crates. Big ups to Fat Joe, O.C., Lord Finesse, Diamond D, Buckwild. You know what I'm saying [Verse 2: A.G.] So go get it if you want it But you won't touch it if you can't feel it Talking ‘bout the spirit, listen close, you can hear it All reliable is undeniable Once they lie to you, then it's checkmate Like a slug when it penetrates your chest plate You're as strong as your weakest link I try hard not to be the one to make a sink Eye to eye with the struggle and I won't blink I just chuckle inside, give a little wink See I can see the future with a panoramic view The man in the mirror saying “damn, you're the truth” Cologne, [?], I'm right at home Your favorite rapper can't even hold my microphone Smoke the loud and the demons get quiet Hear god loud and clear, the room get silent [Transition] This side over here, say On my side over here, say O.C Crowd: O.C Yeah and yo, I want the Brooklyn side on this side to say Big L Crowd: Big L Oh, one more time, we got to outdo that side [Verse 3: O.C.] Dudes is legendary, but nothing like a folklore Touched France where people say bonjour The Netherlands where the weed and the dope stores Half way legit, overlooked by Dutch law My crew won an umpteenth pa**port Twenty deep, rappers need a crash course Born and bred in New York where the [?] cost Million dollar loss, paper down on the asphalt Draped and fatigued, so I blend with crooks and thieves BK n***a, indeed BX, next to kin, first cousin, words summons ghosts To anybody close that we consider brothers Musical séance of some sort Flying phase on admitted, they respond like a Ouija board To the unseen forces, I advise you move cautious Bad spirits make me nauseous