The Theory Songtext / Lyric

Thank you, thank you very much

I appreciate that, thank you



Yeah uhh, once again, Soul father Rasco

Dick Swan', The Theory, Cali Agent #1

Yeah... new and improved

San Fran', Oakland, yeah, look






Well it's the shotgun slinger, middle right finger

Me against the world, up against your girl

34 years, this rap game takin its toll

I never quit still spittin it cold

Now, I've reached inside to find my pride and

Mushed your face to clear my space you

Niggaz forgot who calls these shots

Mr. G Dubya Bush with one button to push

Secure your home man, goin for your dome man

Nobody cares, gotta make it on your own man

The things I've seen will make y'all scream at the

top of your lungs to get y'all sprung {*scream*}

I've survived to keep shit live

From the, training wheels to four wheel drive

Respect the game, respect my name

It's the nigga that can break your whole chest frame

Listen and learn, I spit these bars like

Life depends to get those ends (yeah)

Fuck your trends, I spits like no one

Off the mound, you still can't throw one (hell naw)

Splits and curves, you cats got nerve

Call your clique, you might get served (hell yeah)

Smoked and choked with hands on throat

Now my mission is to get my hands on notes

Check the stats we don't bust gats, we

sling the crack in 16 tracks

Half an ounce to make dudes bounce

Niggaz, took they shots and still don't count (nah)

Rock for years but dudes don't care be

Ras again I must speak clearly

It's still the same, we still rock yearly

Thoughts provoked, The Dick Swan Theory