This song is written as the perspective of the boys in the street, as a whole, and what path they are going to choose as they get older and grow into men. (This is why the music video takes place in an orphanage.) The seen, and unseen collective suffering is imbedded in the boys’ mind, consciously or subconsciously, and is haunting them. Which path will the boys choose? Issac Hayes is the voice of reason, maybe God, the angel on his shoulder, or the voice of his forefathers from beyond the grave who can see the big picture and are pleading with the boys not to continue the violence and pattern of killing their brothers, but to rise above. The most beautiful song and has so many levels. Racism towards African Americans in America would not exist if everyone sat down and listened to this song and understood the history behind the words. The power, fear, pleading in RZA and Ghostface voices are genuine and powerful. Issac Hayes’ strong voice makes the perfect strong father figure, who is possibly from beyond the grave.
Yo, yo, move out of the way
We got Missy Elliott coming through
Girl, that is Missy Elliott (yes), she lost a lot of weight
I heard she eat one cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three zebras and a monkey
I can't stand the bitch no way (ooh-ooh)
When I walk up in the piece
I ain't gotta even speak
I'm a bad mamajama
Goddammit, motherfucker, you ain't gotta like me
How you stuntin' these hoes?
Need to talk what you know
And stop talkin' 'bout who I'm sticking and licking
Just mad it ain't yours
I know y'all poor, y'all broke
Y'all job just hanging up clothes
Step to me, get burnt like toast
Mothafuckas, adios, amigos
Hop, hop, pose, pose
I don't brag, I mostly boast
From the VA to the LA coast
Izzo kizzay, lezzy goh
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
Izzo kizzay?
Izzall rizzight
Izzo kizzy?
Izzall rizzight
Nizzow wizzee wilzzo-izzo-zee
When I pull up in my whip
Bitches wanna talk shit
I'm driving, I'm glad and I'm styling
And these mothafuckers ask, "Did you see it?"
I'm gripping these curbs
Skrrt, did ya heard?
High leathers, my feathers, my furs, ah
I fly like a bird (oh)
Chickenheads on the prowl (prowl)
Who you tryna f- now? (Now)
Now you ain't getting loud
Better calm down 'fore I smack your ass down (uh-huh)
I need my drum, bass, high hats
I need my snare, strings horn, yes
I need my Timb' sound, right, left
Izzo kizzay, looky here
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
Izzo kizzay?
Izzall rizzight
Izzo kizzy?
Izzall rizzight
Nizzow wizzee wilzzo-izzo-zee
I don't go out my house, shorty
You just waiting to see
Who I'm gon' roll up in the club with, then report that next week (uh)
Just wanna see who I am or
Sniffing some coke
I know by the time I finish this line
I'ma hear this (yeah) on the radio
Uh, huh, okay
Once upon a time in College Park
Where they live life fast and they scared of dark
There was a little nigga by the name of Chris
Nobody paid him any mind, no one gave a shit (ahh)
Knowing he could rap, no one lent a hand
So he went about his business and devised a plan
Made a CD then he hit the block
Fifty thousand sold, seven dollars a pop
Hold the phone, uh, three years later
Stepped out the swamp in ten and a half 'gators
Now, all around the world on the microphone
He leave the booth smelling like Burberry cologne
Still riding chrome
Got bitches in the kitchen, never home alone
And he's on the grind
Please, let me know if he's on your mind
And respect, you'll give me
Ludacris, I live loud like Timmy (uh)
Had to clear these rumors
I got a headache and it's not a tumor
Get up on my lap, get my head tucked tight
Sprayed so I never let the bedbugs bite
I'm hard to the core, core to the rotten
You jump down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton, yeah
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
Izzo kizzay?
Izzall rizzight
Izzo kizzy?
Izzall rizzight
Nizzow wizzee wilzzo-izzo-zee
Yo, straight up Missy killed that shit tonight for real
Ooh, I know, I know
I don't really care about her being pregnant by Michael Jackson (no)
You know what we should do?
We should go get her album when it come out
There she go, there she go, there she
Hi, Missy
Hi, Missy?
What's up fools?
You think I ain't knowin' yall broke, Milli Vanilli
J.J. Fad wannabes ain't over here gossiping 'bout me?
Yo, how 'bout you buff these Pumas for twenty cents
So your lights won't get cut off
Ya soggy breasts, cow stomachs
Yo, take them baby GAP shirts off too
You just mad 'cause Payless ran out of plastic pumps for the after party
Yo, by the way, go get my album
Damn
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
We got Missy Elliott coming through
Girl, that is Missy Elliott (yes), she lost a lot of weight
I heard she eat one cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three zebras and a monkey
I can't stand the bitch no way (ooh-ooh)
When I walk up in the piece
I ain't gotta even speak
I'm a bad mamajama
Goddammit, motherfucker, you ain't gotta like me
How you stuntin' these hoes?
Need to talk what you know
And stop talkin' 'bout who I'm sticking and licking
Just mad it ain't yours
I know y'all poor, y'all broke
Y'all job just hanging up clothes
Step to me, get burnt like toast
Mothafuckas, adios, amigos
Hop, hop, pose, pose
I don't brag, I mostly boast
From the VA to the LA coast
Izzo kizzay, lezzy goh
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
Izzo kizzay?
Izzall rizzight
Izzo kizzy?
Izzall rizzight
Nizzow wizzee wilzzo-izzo-zee
When I pull up in my whip
Bitches wanna talk shit
I'm driving, I'm glad and I'm styling
And these mothafuckers ask, "Did you see it?"
I'm gripping these curbs
Skrrt, did ya heard?
High leathers, my feathers, my furs, ah
I fly like a bird (oh)
Chickenheads on the prowl (prowl)
Who you tryna f- now? (Now)
Now you ain't getting loud
Better calm down 'fore I smack your ass down (uh-huh)
I need my drum, bass, high hats
I need my snare, strings horn, yes
I need my Timb' sound, right, left
Izzo kizzay, looky here
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
Izzo kizzay?
Izzall rizzight
Izzo kizzy?
Izzall rizzight
Nizzow wizzee wilzzo-izzo-zee
I don't go out my house, shorty
You just waiting to see
Who I'm gon' roll up in the club with, then report that next week (uh)
Just wanna see who I am or
Sniffing some coke
I know by the time I finish this line
I'ma hear this (yeah) on the radio
Uh, huh, okay
Once upon a time in College Park
Where they live life fast and they scared of dark
There was a little nigga by the name of Chris
Nobody paid him any mind, no one gave a shit (ahh)
Knowing he could rap, no one lent a hand
So he went about his business and devised a plan
Made a CD then he hit the block
Fifty thousand sold, seven dollars a pop
Hold the phone, uh, three years later
Stepped out the swamp in ten and a half 'gators
Now, all around the world on the microphone
He leave the booth smelling like Burberry cologne
Still riding chrome
Got bitches in the kitchen, never home alone
And he's on the grind
Please, let me know if he's on your mind
And respect, you'll give me
Ludacris, I live loud like Timmy (uh)
Had to clear these rumors
I got a headache and it's not a tumor
Get up on my lap, get my head tucked tight
Sprayed so I never let the bedbugs bite
I'm hard to the core, core to the rotten
You jump down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton, yeah
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
Izzo kizzay?
Izzall rizzight
Izzo kizzy?
Izzall rizzight
Nizzow wizzee wilzzo-izzo-zee
Yo, straight up Missy killed that shit tonight for real
Ooh, I know, I know
I don't really care about her being pregnant by Michael Jackson (no)
You know what we should do?
We should go get her album when it come out
There she go, there she go, there she
Hi, Missy
Hi, Missy?
What's up fools?
You think I ain't knowin' yall broke, Milli Vanilli
J.J. Fad wannabes ain't over here gossiping 'bout me?
Yo, how 'bout you buff these Pumas for twenty cents
So your lights won't get cut off
Ya soggy breasts, cow stomachs
Yo, take them baby GAP shirts off too
You just mad 'cause Payless ran out of plastic pumps for the after party
Yo, by the way, go get my album
Damn
Millze cillzan sillzome plilzay dilzzouble dilzutch
Hilzzoo?
My gizzirl
Brillzing her izzin
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"....Ludacris I live loud just like Timmy..."
Who's Timmy?