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Fuck money guns and hoes just flow to show if you've got heart
And we can go rounds you low-down duck
Got stuck with a beat-down in P-town cause your style sucks
You little mark yo you didn't expect it
Like a pack of drunk drivers man some crew straight wrecked shit
And ain't that 'bout a bitch? Got jacked in Oregon that's my
Origin fuck around and now you'll never snore again
Slept like a baby thinking you were all that
Your'e all wack player now look at where you at
Look at where you at
Stop and just listen 'cause ain't no time for riffing
Just scoping and hoping I'll get open like a gift when
Everybody's watching M.C.s beging jocking
Back in the day we used to play and punks got picked like cotton
But look at where I'm at now I'm ripping up the track
Got my mind on a mission now there ain't no turning back
Peace to Mr. Sam-I-Am for putting me on the path
Look into the rear-view mirror and today I just laugh
Back then I used to stumble fumble on the mic or mumble
But you still put me on so now I try to be humble
Went to Mecca to get my step correct and do my part
Now it's Mecca on my mind and Mecca in my heart
Still I depart from the past last night went fast
Pete Miser is what I'm known as so now I watch my own ass
Want to be all that without holding a strap
Money grip don't trip just look at where you at
-It ain't where you're from it's where you're at-
I'm setting it off you're lost so stop and clock your plotted position
Boy you put upon wax a track that lacks any facts what I mean you're
slipping
When I'm hitting I'm kicking the thick non-fiction upon my nation
Understanding the place I'm facing through the knowledge of foundation
Case in point the path I traveled unraveled as each step had landed
Took a look at now for known-how beat my brow where demanded
Know I'm branded like cattle as the one in battle to make it
Not a snake kid or a viper or a diaper I don't take shit
From no-one throw one out to show the clout that I'm attaining
Rough like leather and like Portland weather better bet I'll be
reigning
With an iron fist I dissed you mister pissed you off a little bit
But the hits that I swung will keep you strung out like a fiddle now
sit
Your ass down 'cause the last clown that tried to step
Got swept like a dustpan man you understand?
A fan of no one 'cause I know none that can bust a better rap
I'm from the West Coast West Coast now look at where you at