[Intro] Rob Blow Gonna let you n***as know About a lot of things, and it's on [Chorus] I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout a lot of things I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things Rob Blow's gonna tell you 'bout lots of things [Verse 1] I want everyone to recognize (Say what?) The surprise, sunrise, bout ta die They had to take a break, and escape Those who like to take a little peek at me I mean the way I speak, I don't cheat but I teach Every kind of lesson, you could imagine True young brotha I don't be braggin' about the jackin' Mayne I'm not lyin' You gotta catch me on the night, when I be fryin' You can ask the Ave. for the Fulton Street mob There's no time for fun, I just do my job Jackin' people equal to the pattened people sequels Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout alot of thingz I remember one day, n***a tried to take my ring With no strings attached, it was a grudge match Battle of the tough guys took place Five-O came, and it turned into a race Runnin' block for block, droppin' rocks I looked at the other n***a, he got shot And I got away, straight headin' for the park Stayed and kept quiet, till it got dark 40 oz. , that was on my mind Bad luck though, I forgot to grind Now they got a place to trace for the base that I dropped A dope fiend got mopped by a cop They thought it was his mayne Cause he was sittin' there with my dope in his hand Can't you understand? My partner's little f**ed off But I'm still the boss Callin' shots, makin' plots on any MC Who even take a chance to try me Yeah I was just walkin' through mindin' my own In some park, some n***as was sparked in the dark They caught me slippin', I can't lie One hit me in the eye I stood there, I'm not about to run But there was three of them, and one had a gun Now I can't fight back without my Mac I couldn't attack, because the punk was packed I'm jacked, for the first time I wasn't the one who invented the crime So in this rhyme, I'm bout to let you know Them n***as tried to jump Rob Blow Now I gotta go back to the Moe, where I belong J-stone, it's on, get two tone And do the routine, J-k**a, B-House from the Avenue crew Eightball wa**up? Can't you hear me man? Go get the gat, and take the 40 out your hand I love all my n***as, I could never be a traitor Illiad that's a fact, like my n***a Dark Raider In a different place, but I still catch a case I caught a case before, I'll catch one more That's when little n***as gonna hit the floor They started the war, with a Fillmoe n***a And I'm mean, I'll throw they a** in the guillotine Mercy mercy mercy, that is what they gonna be sayin' Like red so be dead instead for the feds To look upon the paperwork at home So now I'm gonna flirt with the mini skirt Nice size legs, pop her head while they a**es in the dirt [Hook] Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout a lot of things Rob Blow, Rob Blow [Verse 2] As you look into my eyes, destruction You's a fool, thinkin' Im the one that you can do Knowin' I'm the one wrapped with a pump straight in the trunk Poppin' motherf**ers real quick, you b**h And if you not on my side you's a trick Or a treat, go sell your meat And I'll start usin' they f**in jimmy b**hes and the n***as hangin' out at the party I was rollin' real ill, sippin' off the Grand Marny 'Til a little s**a put his salt in my game Don't know the real deal wa**up with the n***a with the fame? Back in the days at the age of 11 I was coppin' ounces, had rocks straight sellin' Rollin in the Cutty pain black peanut bu*ter top Rollin' through, smokin' dank, sellin' that hop (What? Like that?) A little somethin' to remember Plain and simple unless you want one to the temple I'm doin' it down & dirty, dirty dozen was his name I got game and fame and glory Some of these n***as got some weak a** stories No poetry, it's all make believe And they always be talkin' about they got a gat up they sleeve But they need some common sense And if they wasn't aware, get ready to be lynched Because I'm serious about this drama sh** I'm way past being a menace (So what is this?) I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout a lot of things I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout lots of things Lots of things, lots of things We're talkin' about lots of things Lots and lots and lots of things And it's on till the break of dawn Rob Blow Motherf**ers gotta survive every day What? About a lot of things Bout to tell you about a lot of things Much love to you Bigga Figga! Hostin', roastin', off some top notch dank What's goin' on playas? (up outta here) That was Rob Blow, for the 94, down with the Get Low Straight out of the motherf**in Moe Town We got to be on pound, you know what I'm sayin' Up here in the get low studios Tip toe through the Moe, you know what I'm sayin' And Get Low with my hoe Rob Blow's bout to tell you about a lot of things, cause it's on Till the break of dawn don't ya see me? Rob Blow, Rob Blow You s**as can't f** with the Get Low! And it's on, and we outta here once again (we up outta here main, peace)