featuring O.C. Pharoahe Monch

[O.C.]

Yo unfold remarkable soul cold blooded

bleedin icicles equivalent to North Pole

Roll El Producto style buddha mindstate

but I don't smoke weed to proceed follow my lead

I Rock well when Somebody's Watchin Me rhymes fine

like Denzel havin shorties all jockin me

My poetry paintin pictures call me Picasso

Not so fast, put your microphone back in the stash

When I'm through foes with hoes, take what fits

You ain't worth what O.C. hold, dick made of gold

Soul controller, ruler of my dest', all eyes on me

like a pair of thirty-eight double-D's, rest assured

When I be on the mic, WAR, holdin the goods

like you buyin in the surplus store

You see I brought it down a notch so you could understand O

I'm smooth like a harp you, nothin but a banjo

So advance yo' tech-nine style, flipped off

Run into the likes of a Mongol slave

Fallout, the Gene-ral, be on command now

At the corner of the century, I'm the enchanted child

Fuck That abbreviated F.T., soon to come bust off

we bust back strapped ready for war

Chorus: Street Smartz

You when you hear this shit I bet your head'll swing

cause this a ghetto thing, where we pack metal thangz

just to settle thangz

(repeat 2X)

[Pharoahe Monch]

Get your motherfuckin orders of protection, MC's no question

See I was raised in the ill drug section

and that persuaded my poetical selections to be hardcore...

shit, I swore on my father's grave

I make slaves of niggaz who played brave

I craved to engrave my name inside of the pavement

and my basement's an arrangement of different torture devices

that slices, the