Alot Of Thangz

[Intro]
Rob Blow
Gonna let you niggas know
About a lot of things, and it's on

[Chorus]
I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things
Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout a lot of things
I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things
Rob Blow's gonna tell you 'bout lots of things

[Verse 1]
I want everyone to recognize (Say what?)
The surprise, sunrise, bout ta die
They had to take a break, and escape
Those who like to take a little peek at me
I mean the way I speak, I don't cheat but I teach
Every kind of lesson, you could imagine
True young brotha I don't be braggin' about the jackin'
Mayne I'm not lyin'
You gotta catch me on the night, when I be fryin'
You can ask the Ave. for the Fulton Street mob
There's no time for fun, I just do my job
Jackin' people equal to the pattened people sequels
Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout alot of thingz
I remember one day, nigga tried to take my ring
With no strings attached, it was a grudge match
Battle of the tough guys took place
Five-O came, and it turned into a race
Runnin' block for block, droppin' rocks
I looked at the other nigga, he got shot
And I got away, straight headin' for the park
Stayed and kept quiet, till it got dark
40 oz. , that was on my mind
Bad luck though, I forgot to grind
Now they got a place to trace for the base that I dropped
A dope fiend got mopped by a cop
They thought it was his mayne
Cause he was sittin' there with my dope in his hand
Can't you understand? My partner's little fucked off
But I'm still the boss
Callin' shots, makin' plots on any MC
Who even take a chance to try me
Yeah
I was just walkin' through mindin' my own
In some park, some niggas was sparked in the dark
They caught me slippin', I can't lie
One hit me in the eye
I stood there, I'm not about to run
But there was three of them, and one had a gun
Now I can't fight back without my Mac
I couldn't attack, because the punk was packed
I'm jacked, for the first time
I wasn't the one who invented the crime
So in this rhyme, I'm bout to let you know
Them niggas tried to jump Rob Blow
Now I gotta go back to the Moe, where I belong
J-stone, it's on, get two tone
And do the routine, J-Killa, B-House from the Avenue crew
Eightball wassup? Can't you hear me man?
Go get the gat, and take the 40 out your hand
I love all my niggas, I could never be a traitor
Illiad that's a fact, like my nigga Dark Raider
In a different place, but I still catch a case
I caught a case before, I'll catch one more
That's when little niggas gonna hit the floor
They started the war, with a Fillmoe nigga
And I'm mean, I'll throw they ass in the guillotine
Mercy mercy mercy, that is what they gonna be sayin'
Like red so be dead instead for the feds
To look upon the paperwork at home
So now I'm gonna flirt with the mini skirt
Nice size legs, pop her head while they asses in the dirt

[Hook]
Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout a lot of things
Rob Blow, Rob Blow

[Verse 2]
As you look into my eyes, destruction
You's a fool, thinkin' I’m the one that you can do
Knowin' I'm the one wrapped with a pump straight in the trunk
Poppin' motherfuckers real quick, you bitch
And if you not on my side you's a trick
Or a treat, go sell your meat
And I'll start usin' they fuckin jimmy
Bitches and the niggas hangin' out at the party
I was rollin' real ill, sippin' off the Grand Marny
'Til a little sucka put his salt in my game
Don't know the real deal wassup with the nigga with the fame?
Back in the days at the age of 11
I was coppin' ounces, had rocks straight sellin'
Rollin in the Cutty pain black peanut butter top
Rollin' through, smokin' dank, sellin' that hop

(What? Like that?)

A little somethin' to remember
Plain and simple unless you want one to the temple
I'm doin' it down & dirty, dirty dozen was his name
I got game and fame and glory
Some of these niggas got some weak ass stories
No poetry, it's all make believe
And they always be talkin' about they got a gat up they sleeve
But they need some common sense
And if they wasn't aware, get ready to be lynched
Because I'm serious about this drama shit
I'm way past being a menace
(So what is this?)

I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things
Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout a lot of things
I'm about to tell you bout a lot of things
Rob Blow's gonna tell you bout lots of things

Lots of things, lots of things
We're talkin' about lots of things
Lots and lots and lots of things
And it's on till the break of dawn
Rob Blow
Motherfuckers gotta survive every day
What?
About a lot of things
Bout to tell you about a lot of things
Much love to you Bigga Figga!
Hostin', roastin', off some top notch dank
What's goin' on playas? (up outta here)
That was Rob Blow, for the 94, down with the Get Low
Straight out of the motherfuckin Moe Town
We got to be on pound, you know what I'm sayin'
Up here in the get low studios
Tip toe through the Moe, you know what I'm sayin'
And Get Low with my hoe
Rob Blow's bout to tell you about a lot of things, cause it's on
Till the break of dawn don't ya see me?
Rob Blow, Rob Blow
You suckas can't fuck with the Get Low!
And it's on, and we outta here once again
(we up outta here main, peace)