feat. Big Shug, Ed O.G., Krumb Snatcha
  
  That's right, Boston
  Yeah, Boston niggas be rollin' dolo from state to stae
  It's nothing, we do this
  
  [Chorus]
  Still nobody guards I stay sucker free
  Still sling rhymes hard I stay puffing trees
  Rollin' Dolo from state to state
  Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
  
  [Guru]
  Yo, jealousy can kill so I test my skill
  Any pomp I can romp and stomp at will
  Now as I gets my thrill it's like my daily drill
  You spill raps and in (?) I've been made to ill
  You can't talk the talk, you can't walk the walk
  Been dwelling with the muggers and the murderers talk
  Your shocked by the way I regulate ya' obliterate ya'
  Erase your obsolete weak cheap data
  
  [ED O.G.]
  It's this hip-hop art I stay true to, crack brew to
  I fuck your girl a lot better than you do
  The type of lyrics I spit will never fail you
  Battle you online, type a letter forward it then email you
  Take you off the track and de-rail you
  Get the hell out my face don't want to be near you
  Don't want your snippets hate your album or your headshots
  It's ED O.G. in the black-fitted Red Sox
  Thuggin' the streets but you soft at home
  You got skills off the dome?
  I'm a off your dome
  This is a battlefield, no time for screaming and yelling
  You get smacked in the face use your ice for the swelling
  Besides the records I'm selling
  My momma' raised no felon
  On the hunt like Helen
  For whack rappers who's jellin'
  This is drama not a kitty show
  You want to get fucked up
  Like the low-budget video
  I know a lot of time's passed
  The ED O.G. is still here and ya'll still half-ass
  
  [Chorus]
  {Ya'll still half ass}
  {Ya'll half-ass rappers}
  Still nobody guards I stay sucker free
  Still sling rhymes hard I stay puffing trees
  Rollin' Dolo from state to state
  Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
  
  [Big Shug]
  It's the return of the mouth-musher, skull-crusher
  Pack myself with two nines and (?)
  That nigga all day beating down suckers
  Sporting the game making it get more rougher
  The face-puncher the hot-cruncher
  The have it with gods for the law out-to-luncher
  The seven-thirty, know I'm more than a sick man
  The streets raised this wild ass nigga from "Murderpan"
  The real rapper the pimp-slapper
  The put on the socks with your suit and stay dapper
  Whoa, the chump-choker the backwood tree smoker
  Stash the gats in the sofa it's all over
  One life to live and that's that
  I keep my lyrics heavily packed and cocked back
  I'll smash you right in your fucking face black
  I'm the realest nigga what you know about that
  I'm a let my skills shine like brand new chrome
  And tell them son-niggas you run with that daddy's home
  I roll dolo from state to state it feels great
  And in two thousand get on the stage and demonstrate
  
  [Chorus]
  Still nobody guards I stay sucker free
  Still sling rhymes hard I stay puffing trees
  Rollin' Dolo from state to state
  Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
  
  [Guru]
  No holds barred I'm going all out
  I don't think your for real I think your all mouth
  So bust one for my dogs locked down
  And for my real rap lovers know I got it locked down
  Untill your blocked down, punks get beat down
  You can't rock a party take a seat you clown
  I frown upon scavengers and wannabe's
  Commit atrocities upon MC's who think they heart is mean
  
  [Chorus]
  Still nobody guards I stay sucker free
  Still sling rhymes hard I stay puffing trees
  Rollin' Dolo from state to state
  Still drop the hot shit for you to pull out your crate
  
  [Krumbsnatcha]
  Smokey gray Lexus, diamond necklace
  We livin' wreckless and die for these inspectors
  The four pounders, cock the name on you out-of-towners
  And what, henne' filled cups peep the diamond cut
  Ice, paradise, living in the thug life
  Married to the game fuck a lame diggin' out your wife
  Loving all these block wars do shit that's uncalled for
  Make money in your spot get it locked, shoot down four
  For all your ghetto revenues
  Spraying through any avenue
  Running I'll be grabbing you
  Hog-tied and smacking you
  With heaters on purpose
  Hold you hostage like you was Turkish
  And your pussy ass elevated gut it down your worthless
  These thoughts is vivid and we talk if you live it
  Rappers brag about a town but don't get respect in it
  Ain't a damn shame, whats thats man's name
  That got a flame to his nut
  Clearing out his spot with a rusted hook
  Trust me it's not this entertainment
  Ask the judges that face me on the arrangement
  Plus I came with, hundreds of niggas that think the same
  The plastic hotter than acid to melt the brain
  You know the rest man