Cam’ron - Get It In Ohio lyrics

What up, Midwest?
They forgot about the fourth coast
It ain't nothing though
What up Arkansas, Minnesota, Kansas?
Kentucky, Missouri, everybody in the Lou'!

Thinking bout Guy Fisher
Never met him, but God damn, that's my nigga!
I figure real estate invested pie flipper
Never snitch, me, I'm in a bathrobe
Fly slippers (I80)
Left Chicago with good money for 5 drops
Westside, did the Southside like
The White Sox (What up Stony Island?)
Van Buren, Pulaski, K Town is contra
(Westside) they'll dearly depart ya
In front of MacArthur's (What up Madison?)
I'm the author for gangsters, tough guys
Did the whole Ohio
But I started off a Buckeye
Columbus to 'Nati them towns I raped 'em
Few clowns was hatin'
Moved my pounds to Dayton and in Akron
My niggas they would throw things
Not King James, these were coke kings
And you acting grown
Doggy you ain't back at home
The smack, it's on, wrapped in chrome
You better get a chaperone

If you know like I know, you should lie low
Killa, I used to get it in Ohio
Don't forget the Chi though
Guns are like a pyro
You keep playing, you will look like a gyro

Go 'head and hate me hater
Cause I'm flyer than a aviator?
Well, you'll get smacked with the radiator
And I get catered player
"Wanna talk?" "Maybe later"
Told her, her time was up, '88 her
Flavor-Flaved her
Need your neck choked rather, your neck broke
You dead broke, yes folks
The jewels are like egg yolks
And you'll get yoked up, switchblade-poked up
Bitch made since 6th grade
He need his rope cut
Cowboy roped up, "y'all boys sold what?"
Know what? Dope, crack
And coke is in the coat tucked
Roll up, hold up, family, this a hold up!
Get close up, soaked up, I'm KG, post up
Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts
Family getting bread
Well he about to get his loaf cut
Y'all doped up, this game is sewed up
Malcolm X: tell the white bitch, "Yo
I want my toes sucked"

If you know like I know, you should lie low
Killa, I used to get it in Ohio
Don't forget the Chi though
Guns are like a pyro
You keep playing, you will look like a gyro

I'd rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6
My 12 and 12 - well, they carry my bricks
And them 12-12 fiends
They're married to sniff
And the V12, that's on various trips
Y'all make a brother laugh
Me I took another path
Come into my habitat, hovercrafts
Bubble baths duffle bags stuffed with cash
Fell in love with math
I got the green Benz, red Range, mustard Jag
White coke, tan dope, black gun, trey deuce
Silver bullets, purple piff, blue pills
Grey Goose pull out the rat tat tat
Duck duck, say goose
Beige coupe, suede roofs
Send him up to Jesús (Jesus)
H-deuce, yea yea, piss off the state troops
See me, then they don't, I disappear, say
"poof"
Play Zeus, homeboy, get a replaced tooth
Not Pac, mean dust when a nigga say, "juice"
Killa!