Metal Thangz Street Smartz (Ft. F.T., O.C. & Pharoahe Monch)

[Verse 1: O.C.]
Yo
Unfold remarkable soul, cold-blooded, bleeding
Icicles equivalent to North Pole, roll
El-Producto style, Buddha mindstate, but I don’t
Smoke weed to proceed. Follow my lead
I Rockwell when “Somebody’s Watching Me,” rhymes fine
Like Denzel, having shorties all jocking me
My poetry painting pictures—call me Picasso
Not so fast. Put your microphone back in the stash. When I’m through
Foes with hoes, take what fits. You ain’t worth
What O.C. hold, dick made of gold. Soul-
-controller, ruler of my dest’, all eyes on me
Like a pair of thirty-eight double-D’s. Rest
Assured, when I be on the mic, war, holding the goods
Like you buying in the surplus store. You see?
I brought it down a notch so you could understand O
I’m smooth like a harp, you nothing but a banjo
Advance yo’ tech-nine style? That shit is played out
Run into the likes of a Mongo Slade. Uh!
Fallout, the general be on command now
At the quarter of the century, I’m the man, child. Fuc That
Abbreviated F.T., soon to come, bust off
We bust back, strapped, ready for war. What?!?

[Hook: F.T. (AKA Fuc That)] (x2)
Yo, when you
Hear this shit, I bet your head’ll swing (What?!?) ‘cause this a ghetto thing
Where we pack metal thangz just to settle thangz