[Royce Da 5'9"]  Unlock ya locks, and keep ya keys  The Pac in me, got me thinkin deeply  I got to shock MC's, wit my philosophy  Cause I think very deeply  Where I come from, where you sweat ya pen up  Young gun rep-resenter, from the Ep-icenter  The microphone fienin, for a microphone  Before he knew what a microphone mean  Wit them four pounds, and they soundin them off  And them slugs, get them thugs, and the ground, get the chalk  Niggaz hearts is dissolvin, involved in  What Farakhan and, Jim Brown couldn't solve    [Man singing w/ (Royce ad-libs)]  I'ma tell you what I know, what I know    [Royce Da 5'9"]  It's them +Boyz In the Hood+ it's always hard  You come talkin that trash, they'll pull ya card  Who would have known, that the boy growin up playin them cards  Will soon know the music he wrote, it was so true  Who could raise me, after I been amazed by Dre  And N.W.A., and you couldn't pay me  To back the staff for free, I will believe  It ain't nothin +Shady+ in the +Aftermath+  Perhaps when you unwrappin the plastic  You respect whatever you hear, and ya styles is growin  Them guys is clonin, them pioneers  Rappers wanna be classic, like they Clef, Pras, and Warren    [Man singing w/ (Royce ad-libs)]  I'ma tell you what I know, what I know    [Royce Da 5'9"]  Elvis - was a hero to most  But he never meant shit to me, it's statements  Like that made me gage, White, Black, hate to make  Me say - I like, when they fight back, they  Me and rap, I vent myself  Leanin back, not knowin that I meant myself  A lesson comin fast, you dudes better catch it  Whenever the future answers ya questions from the past  And hold that, I'm spillin these cold raps  Cause I am a +Throwback+ you feelin the soldier  And keep tryin, to keep up wit the kind of guy  That'll play you until they fatally say that the game's over    [Man singing w/ (Royce ad-libs)]  I'ma tell you what I know, what I know    [Royce Da 5'9"]  Oh my God, I destroy cities like the Blob  Goin from city to city, seein who I can rob  Goin from makin them poems up, in my garage  Then goin on major tours wit, me and my squad  Goin from listenin to Reggie, to meeting him  Wit my palms sweaty, to him, telling me - I'm dead meat  Goin from likin, to spray the club after a night  That didn't go my way, to plug a writin for Dre  You damn right I was raised, the amazin  Hand-writin on the same page, that you can't type on  So I black out, the usual same way  The old fashion rap, til it's no lights on    [Man singing w/ (Royce ad-libs)]  I'ma tell you what I know, what I know