Who Run It? - O.C.

Yeah… who run it?

Yeah yeah yeah yeh yep yep!

Who run it?

Who run it?

Turn the beat up a little more

Who run it?

O, fa' sho, pit any rapper against me

In they chest I blow a motherfuckin hole

Flow sorta like slow draggin the blunt smoke

Inhale then blow out O’s of nostrils

God I mastered the art of this, smashin you novices

I tell you what the problem is, Mush equal dominance

You gonorrhea, need a shot of penicillin in your rear

Niggas ain’t, burnin SHIT over here

Trust me, you need more than balls to be boss over

Toss over your name is mud homes your reign’s over

Drunk flow at the same time sober

A-Side cobra, B-Side squeeze like a boa (pour wine)

'Til my gettin A display run on

'Bout to make Miles drop it or I make history

It’s this day I take a step up to legendary

Never mind the rest, O.C.'s very necessary

poet teacher

Who run it?

Uhh, yo

You feel it’s weak what I say, hey tough titty

Mush must admit he prove a point in a New York minute

Still mentionin my name, still in the trench of the game

Still do a joint venture if they give a offer pay it

Thought orbit like a rocket O sittin in the cockpit

Me plus poetry finesse equal profits

Invadin your metropolis, Doc Octopus with shades

Eight bars times two, who gon' stop this?

My sixth day laid back, at the same time

Address it whether on ProTools or ADAT

Any doubts towards me bet yo' ass I change that

Pen or sword I trace a O on your frame black

ASAP to my benefit I feed off the ridicule

He cop to spit at you, he 'bout to get at you

Tough talk turn tame now duke’s political

It’s funny how, steel turn the bold to the beautiful

Who run it?

poet teacher

Who run it?

Who run it?

Yo, all aboard train 'bout to leave the platform

Fans ask for him, many trips overseas just to rap for 'em

So many rappers in the battle got they ass torn

Very few admit they’ve partaken in my crash course

At last the underground king once more

Will induce labor able for a son or daughter born

O brought many along this road yellow brick

Nowadays generation don’t recognize SHIT

Third lung carry second wind, no mistake or punch

A crack in my voicebox locks on point

Think it write it spit it got it with the rhythm in sync

Failsafe raps fire when horsetowns I trailblaze

Sick with it, lyrics lick with acid

Shapely tasteful bad like Angela Bassett

Pass that lit, inebriated and hand that

Soon available on vinyl, CD and cassette