(feat. Eastwood, Eddie Griffin) [Intro: Crooked & E.G.] Hell mothaf**in yeah! E.G I bet you didn't know I thought you knew Yeah I bet you didn't know Yeah, Tell 'em though What You Thought you knew about me? [Verse 1: Crooked I] n***as 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 sh** every place he go "Man Crooked only rap about money Only rap about guns, only rap about s*uts" Wrap your mouth around some nuts We from Tha Row we dont say our sh** clean So f** 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 a** police to judge us All we need is for the streets to love us But I bet you didn't 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 n***a 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 co*k and let it pop ya Can't stop the unstopable Competition impossible I'm leavin you weanie n***as flatline in the hospital Situation critical, that he say, she say Or get that a** 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 n***as kick rocks For taht a** get popped Stomped out and dropped So what you thought n***a? [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 n***a like E.G I'm here to set your b**h a**es free Here till i got it deep Get On your knees and say please, please, please Like James Brown Even stanks in your mothaf**in 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