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Longtime underground emcee out of Columbus, Ohio, now based in Fort Lauderdale, Fl. Unsigned, lyrically centered hip-hop with a gangster flare. The voice of t
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #2,367
Peak in subgenre #1,288
Author
E.D.G.
Rights
2007
Uploaded
November 03, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.2 MB • 128 kbps • 4:35
Lyrics
Verse #1 (E.D.G.):
Yo, it’s the voice of the ‘burbs, lemme show you what I have in store
Grew up smokin’ weed with a towel rolled under my door
Out of a glass bubbler, two times blown, that I stole
Blow the smoke through the fabric softners on a towel roll
Sixteen years old, pills in my pocket gettin’ blunted
Had everything I needed ‘til I needed everything I wanted
Believe that I lived comfortable, but that just aint E.D.
Started sellin’ to smoke for free, then I started getting greedy
Hungry for the money like I wasn’t even eating
Take a big bite of the cash like I wasn’t even teething
Pushin’ pills on a cold night, and I wasn’t ever freezing
Even they want me to justify my hustle, money is the reason
Bust him if he needs it, cut him if he brings it
They dropped my dad; believe his son learned lessons from his teacher
Bump my shit now or I’m knockin’ doors down
If I cant hear it from Columbus then I’m knockin’ yours down
Verse #2 (E.D.G.):
Now slow down home boy, easy does it
They all think they a rapper, ‘til they see how E.D. does it
My cd’s buzzin’, put together on a sleezy budget
I’m supplyin’ crack for the ears, and the fiends, they love it
Star of David on my chest, hope the world see that I’m blessed
Spit the best and nothing less, or I’m stressed out and depressed
I’m heartless, no I meant to see I’m cold hearted
Captain and coke and smoke the dope til I’m retarded
I’m suburbs artist, they buying rap and I’m their choice
Wanted better shit to listen to but never had a choice
We don’t lean with rock with it
Get off my joc with it, when I’m on the clock I’m tryin to do better than Pac did it
Some pot, liquor, and a little bit of coke
To blow away like they dreams and leave em’ without a hope
Your heart stoppin’ like a stroke when you hear that dope sound
That knock turn to a pound then I’m knockin doors down
Verse #3 (E.D.G.):
Trey filled with swisher guts and blazed up weed ashes
Came to college, got demolished and skipped all of my classes
Fuck a job, fuck the knowledge, cuz it ain’t E’s passion
I’d rather lay a track on wax and get my rap game mastered
Speak on lessons that I’ve learned that they don’t teach in a classroom
Put me on a beat, I’ll give em’ rosie cheeks when I slash it
Man I’ll thrash it, I’ll trash it, my rap game’s fantastic
Got my master’s in sellin’ advil up in the bathrooms
It’s E.D., the suburbs needed a little dirt
The route to the easy cheese is the reason that I emerged
And they said, after Em, there never would be again
Words used as a weapon by a cocky Caucasian man
Well guess again, oh yes again, another hip-hop legend
Presenting improvement in all the music he presents
And I represent the suburbs, and that’s where I’ll be found
Wearing my crown, wearing em’ down, you hearing me pal?
