When I was six, I had my first lady
when I was eight, my first drink
When I was fourteen, I was speeding in the street
what could anybody say to me
You can call me Mister, you can call me Sir
but don't you point your finger at me
I want a mistrial to clear my name
I want a mistrial in front of the people
I want a mistrial to clear my name
I want to bring my case to the people of New York City
When I was thirty, my attitude was bad
if I said differently it'd be a lie
But there's some smarts you learn down in the street
that a college education can't buy
You can call me Mister, or you can call me Sir
but don't you point your finger at me, oh
I want a mistrial to clear my name
I want a mistrial in front of the people
I want a mistrial to clear my name
I want to bring my case to in front of the people at New York City
You can call me Mister, or you can call me Sir
but don't you point your finger at me, yeah
I want a mistrial to clear my name
I want a mistrial in front of the people, I, I
I want a mistrial to clear my name
I want to bring my case to the people at New York City
And I said "M-I-S-T-R-I-A-L", mistrial
in front of all the people
I said "M-I-S-T-R-I-A-L", mistrial
in front of the people of New York City
Mistrial
.... the people of New York City
I said mistrial
"M-I-S-T-R-I-A-L" ....Yeah
Father Rasco you better act like you know
Straight of the pitch the third mic gave a small pinch
And ever since they've been waitin' on this twelve inch
It's Peanut Butter Wolf Rasco anticipated
Steppin' to mics will only get cracks obliterated
Turn up these levels let me bless those that's feelin' this
Run on this path and I'ma rip fools continuous
This nonstop entourage rockin' camouflage
Is quick to handle any nigga thinkin' sabotage
Really, who in the hell is this big Willy?
We'll run him down, rip his out and smack him silly
My microphone filled with flames, takin' all names
The first to tell 'em that this hip hop ain't all games
I rock the planet, transatlantic, meanin' overseas
Down with various, but this box don't come in threes
Got EBF to the friz chillin' close range
Pockets is flat, time to stack me some pocket change
But ain't it strange how this hard work has paid off?
Remember days when I was flat broke and laid off
But gettin' fired only inspired the dope shit
Now magazines on the scene tryin' to quote shit
Given the wackest hip hop overblown props
Styles is stolen better call up the damn cops
Tell 'em to bring they paddy wagon, got a lot of folks
Stand-up comedians is all set to crack jokes
Gavel to gavel, brothers gettin' drug through the gravel
A little buzz, yo, but my rhymes just didn't travel
A gotta take it to the next, start cashin' checks
I see you brothers perpertratin' in that rented Lex
Tryin' to flex like you some type of big wheel
I'm on the mic, niggaz just get they wigs peeled
Still, I know these wack fools be lovin' it
Place your bets and I bet Ras can double it
Scratched Chorus(x2):
"Rhymes decapitate 'em when I activate 'em."
"Get behind the real rhymer."
Some of you fools on the mic just bug me
Sippin' on ???? niggaz talkin' 'bout his bubbly