Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I'm the young Harlem nigga with the Goldie sound
Can't no PHD niggaz hold me down, Cooter
Now, who's hot who not
Where the true players at? Throw your roadies in the sky
I though I told you that We won’t stop
I guess it's 'cause you run with lame dudes too much
Bruise too much, I lose, too much
I don't know what, they want from me
Yeah, yeah, ah, ah, from the C to the A to the D D Y