Connect 3 - D.I.T.C., O.C., A.G.

Still here, played the hand I was dealt with

Hands on, but still never felt shit

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 fuck 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

The legendary Diggin' In The Crates

Andre The Giant

A to the motherfucking 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

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

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

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 passport

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 nigga, 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