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)]