You know it's Whitey  And the Likwits  I say it's Whitey  And the Likwits  You know it's Whitey  And the Likwits  Watch me rock these sounds  From the polo grounds  To the sunset strip  Like an acid trip  I'll flash it back on ya  Run it up on ya  I was born in Hempstead live  Raised in California  Mr. Entreprenuer  I rock the shot that's sure  I need a dime plus more  I sip the fine liquor  I want the cash in hand  Snd the beach front land  And I get loco  From Acolpoco to Japan  Mr. Whitey Ford gets terrain explored  You perpetrate that Ford  You must be out of your gourd  It's time to make like Greg Nice, kid  And praise the Lord  Keep the faith  Smoke an eighth  Until you stack the papers all up in my safe  Commence the motivate  Consume an altered state  I'm killin' your whole wack show  Like I'm Edgar Allan Poe  With the psychotic thriller  No peckerwood iller  Than this freckled-face man  With the farmer's tan  If I can't bomb on you  I'm bombin' on your man    [CHORUS]  Some get the shit, sugar, some get the stains  Some get the muscles, baby, some get the brains  Some get the powers, love, some get the papers  Some catch the vibes and some catch the vapors Better...  Praise the Lord keep keep the faith [X4]    I say roll to the rock  Rock to the roll  Whitey Ford brings the devastatin' mic control  Like Derryl McDaniel  A hundred G's venue  The tip's get clocked, baby  The bond's get stocked  My style gets rocked  Just like doors get knocked  With legendary status  Like my name's Lou Brock  And my lazairre sounds  Be shakin' the grounds  Huntin' down crews  Like packs of bloodhounds  Snatchin' off crowns  And meltin' 'em down  I once was lost, see  But now I'm found  Amazing grace  How sweet the sound  And when the saints come marchin' in (keep the faith)  I'm Nestle's Alpine White / Classic rapper's delight  All these shorties pullin' tools  'Cause they know they can't fight  I bank my selections on worldwide connections  So get the seven digits, baby  Never burn your britches    [CHORUS (X2)]