[Intro: DJ Rated R & EZ Mac]
As we keep it movin', How High: The Mixtape, The Ill Spoken
Potent Product shit, Rated R, Diggz shit
Can't forget the whole Pittsburgh, the whole Jersey, T. Dot
'Bout to hit this right quick (Don't wreck the spot)
Yo, bump that shit, homie
Ayo, Beedie, why don't we just get on this right quick? (Yes sir)
Can't forget the fire man
They ain't know, Ill Spoken, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Can't forget the whole East End Empire
Yeah
Big Will

[Bridge: EZ Mac]
Ayo (Let's get it)
Somebody wave ya hands
We rap while the DJ play the jams (That's right)
They ain't tellin' me I ain't the man
So keep 'em up 'til they feel like they was made of sa— (Uh)
Ayo (Let's get it)
Somebody wave ya hands
We rap while the DJ play the j— (Uh)
Ayo (Let's get it)
Somebody wave ya hands
We rap while the DJ play the jams (Uh)
Ayo (Let's get it)
Somebody wave ya hands
We rap while the DJ play the jams (That's right)
They ain't tellin' me I ain't the man
So keep 'em up 'til they feel like they was made of sand
[Verse 1: EZ Mac]
I'm too sick with music, I ruin the 'musement (Yep)
'Cause cats after me, well, they tend to get booed quick (Aww)
Like, "Who's this way under the age?"
I'm like, "Ha!", and lay the blunt on the stage, yeah
'Cause me and Beedie get ya out ya seat
I pound the beat, wake ya up out ya sleep (Oh!)
When I'm back, I got mountains of weed
Blowin' trees 'til the whole entire crowd gets skeed, yeah
I'm happily hittin' you with rhapsody
These sick words got my mouth filled with cavities
That's right, you a star, I'm a galaxy
In the sky, while you sittin' on your balcony

[Chorus: Beedie]
'Cause I ain't tryna let it pass me by
I'm tryna get up on my grind so my ass be fly
It's like, everywhere I go, they wanna ask me why
Yeah, yeah
'Cause I ain't tryna let it pass me by
I'm tryna get up on my grind so my ass be fly (Ayo, EZ Mac, ask him to leave, ugh)
It's like, everywhere I go, they wanna ask me why (Stand the fuck up, son)

[Verse 2: Beedie]
Yeah, uh, yeah, don't gotta ask me twice
Second they hear me spit, they say, "That cat be nice" (Uh-huh)
Them bastard's like, "They hype but you can't be white" (Nah)
Listen, I ain't got time for your bad advice
I mastered mics, it's worth if you ask the price
I got it cheap, don't sleep on me, that's your life (Yeah)
I go hard, well known, every part of the city
You ain't heard about us now, well, you oughta get with me (C'mon)
'Cause we takin' over, float coke with bakin' soda
My money stink good, so smell the cake aroma
The wait is over, the time has come
You won't max half my sum once I've begun
Young, I get money (Get money)
Spend hunnids, get blunted
That's when I got shit if y'all want it (Y'all want it)
For hip-hop, you can holla at us (Uh-huh)
And if you front, then I'm callin' ya bluff
Put a [?]
[Interlude: EZ Mac & Beedie]
Yeah (Motherfuckers), yeah, Ill Spoken
That's right, Beedie (Haha)
Yessir (Not a goddamn one of you lames comin' in my way)
(Ayo, what up, Mac?)

[Verse 3: EZ Mac & Beedie]
So, so what you know about me?
Ill Spoken hard, and these other cats lousy
Ugh, we lightin' Ls 'til the sky's gettin' cloudy
Blowin' out ya speakers 'til the crowd gettin' rowdy (Yo)
Ayo, Beedie, let me launch this rap
Kick it old school how we toss it forth and back
You sittin' sideways, kinda how I sport my cap
Gettin' skeed off of trees, I just bought this sack (Haha, yo)
I'm tryna get a, get a Porsche in black with black rims (Yup)
Black T-shirt and black Timbs
And that's been the way we puttin' it down
Keepin' my pivot real strong with my foot in the ground, yeah
I'm sick-sick-sicker than you bitches
Tryna get rich quick, pickin' up my digits
And yeah, I'm with it, I'm about my cake
So when I blow I'ma drown these fakes

[Chorus: Beedie]
'Cause I ain't tryna let it pass me by
I'm tryna get up on my grind so my ass be fly
It's like, everywhere I go, they wanna ask me why
Yeah, yeah
'Cause I ain't tryna let it pass me by
I'm tryna get up on my grind so my ass be fly
It's like, everywhere I go, they wanna ask me why
[Outro: Beedie & DJ Rated R]
Yeah
The Ill Spoken, motherfuckers, 2008
How sick am I? How sick am I? Yeah
Can't forget Lip the Kid, y'all already know how we does it
Potent Product shit, Ill Spoken shit, uh