Just Call My Name - Ed O.G, Pete Rock, Jaysa

Dog, I’m too menacing

See we all for them Benjamins

It’s dark when we young like venison

Screamin on niggas like Sam Kinision (RRAH~!)

Practice on y’all, like I’m scrimmagin

All beef finishin, real no imaging

I puff purple with a chick that’s cinnamon

Bust your brain cells 'til they hemorrhaging

You haters get stomped with Nike stripes and Timberlands

And switch sides, like balls at Wimbledon

Edo.G, I’m from Humboldt

Fulla cops, cutthroats, blood soaks and gun smoke

Won’t hesitate to show ya why

Outside of them clubs, they gon' blow ya high

I’m back to business… silence every witness

+Roots+ so deep, Alex Haley couldn’t script this

So easy how the Ed O.G.

kick this

And I don’t care how the world depict this

(Edo.G)

(Just call my name!)

You wanna take it from the booth to the streets

And switch from pen and paper to the heats

(Just call my name!)

Legendary, New York and Roxbury

Edo.G, Pete Rock, and Jaysaun, we rock heavy

(Just call my name!)

From the blocks to the hall of fame

It’s all the same, the game don’t change

(Just call my name!)

We ain’t scurred 'round here — nope

Any disrespect’ll get you aired 'round here

(Just call my name)

We only do it for the most thorough, coast to coast

Man, the Heckler & Koch’ll scorch your whole borough (yep!)

Reportin nerve and warfare similar to Edward Morrow journalism

When your cheek bones and buckshot meet, homes, is cataclysm

It don’t matter where you’re from’n, young’n

Jaysaun, you can hear the bullets hummin, young’n

Comin at ya coast signed by Edo.

G as Pete smacks ya

Need desperate applause, we gon' clap ya

Shells spin ya rap actors counter-clockwise and backwards

Your soul torched and burnt down to a

Roach in a Backwoods, last word committee

Blows green all over the crime scene, it’s not pretty

We came to party with friends, sip Bacardi with skins

And litter the stage with bodies and limbs

There ain’t no need to push me, I expose your squad

As hundred percent PUSSY!

Your day job’s way too pushy

Boston’s best, put a O.G.

and cross ya chest

You corny lil' rappers, you lost respect!

It’s a blessing and a curse to be the best and the first

Never give less than hundred percent in a verse

You better off lettin that judge sentence you first

Cause in the rap game, you get sent in a hearse

Don’t confuse me with that gangsta or backpack

Everybody pack gats (BOW!) Play the audience and clap back

Boston beef on Boston streets

A lot of white sheets, people toss heat

Edo, told you faggots +I Got To Have It+

Shit get tragic, niggas get savage

Fathered all my children, blood keeps spilling

Of men, women, and children, and innocent civilians

Four albums deep — same building

Edo.G, Pete Rock, c’mon, make a killing!