DJ J.D on the beat, you know what it is
Round 2, this that shit you just err, you put in the CD player on the way to re-up
Go get your weed or your coke, whatever, you know what I'm saying
This one's for U-City, St. Louis, South Side I see you, Kirkwood I see you
All my homies down in the zoo, down in old Mis, down in Regis up in Denver
This that real shit, Keep it 100
Chyup, and here we go
(Chorus x2)
See anything you did, I done-done it
I always speak the truth, from the bottom of my stomach
See I was once told as a youngin by my cousin, to keep it 100 (keep it, keep it 100)
See these rappers these days, they don't keep it 100
Never got caught with white, never been to the dungeon
Not one song, one track, have I ever fronted
Kanye West ass bitches, homie you can't tell me nothing
I don't live in the hood, no I don't clap-heat
I'll make the call to Italy, have you tied in the back seat
And you never had them essays in your back seat
Cruisin through the Jungle bout to buy a fucking half key
You don't belive me, check my big bro, ask T
Both us combined, probably 4 thousand last week
Runnin this bitch like an athlete, at track meets
All these other guys are just liars, if you ask me
I'm real as a motherfucker, you can check my rap sheet
Tell a bitch I'm Cherfin, and she's like what does that mean
It's when you roll 10 blunts, then start relaxing
And this is for you little peasants that keep asking
(Chorus x2)
See anything you did, I done-done it
I always speak the truth, from the bottom of my stomach
See I was once told as a youngin by my cousin, to keep it 100 (keep it, keep it 100)
DJ J.D, also go by Jeff Platt
Got so many records, they about to call me Jeff Plaques
White Nikes, Thousand Dollar Jeans, New Mesh Hat
Makin these Thousand Dollar Beats, it's what I'm best at
What the fuck you think we smoke 20 blunts of weed for
You selling Nick's and Dimes, what you rapping bout a key fo
Thousand Dollar bottles, Naked bitches on the sea-shore
I don't carry guns, but I'll slap you with my keyboard
Champagne so bubbly, Purple weed tasty
I always tell the truth, man these other guys are faking
Los gets the Dough and makes the fucking pastries
I just kick back, making beats up in my bakery
Fruity Loop wrappers, yeah I hope you get the best of it
Talking bout your cousin money, man that shit's irrelevant
All the things I've done homie, bet you have never did
Me and Los in the lab, a song in 10 seconds bitch
(Chorus x2)
See anything you did, I done-done it
I always speak the truth, from the bottom of my stomach
See I was once told as a youngin by my cousin, to keep it 100 (keep it, keep it 100)
And where I was born, I swear to God you couldn't handle it
You either work the docks, become a chef, or sell heroin
I hop off that ship, it's St.Louis , Straight Hustler
And year by year, watch you bitches be my customers
I smoke more than mufflers, Why would I ever lie?
Age 16, tenth hour, my pocket, bitch I never lie
Big guns, a lot of ammo, yeah several guys
That's the mob on deck, homie if you ever try
Cocaine, E-Pills, Marijuana on deck
Keep it 100 bitch, I never lie on track
All the bitches like why you spend money on that?
Cos I'm the type of dude, who spends your rent money on hats
Call me Young Train bitch, I always stay on track
Still spendin old money, got them extra long stacks
From St.Louis, homie where we say Dirty and Dodi
All I got to say is Motherfucker Police
We gonna keep it 100
It's keepin me runnin
Number one, never fallin
And we never gonna go away
Keep it 100
Never be stallin
Stoppin for nothing
Were gonna go all the way
Were gonna go all the way
Grindin all night and day
From the truth we'll never stray
Keep it 100 everyday
(Chorus x2)
See anything you did, I done-done it
I always speak the truth, from the bottom of my stomach
See I was once told as a youngin by my cousin, to keep it 100 (keep it, keep it 100)
