The Big East

Awwww....yeaaaah... Who is the man with the hats with the snaps, droppin' the raps with the truth, to the youth that's bustin' the caps? Who could it be? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a tree? No, it's me: Capital-A, capital-S, capital-E. Boomin' like thunda, strikin' like lightnin'. Welcome to my Slaughtahouse, I know it's frightenin'. I'm hittin' em over the head with lyrical styles like a bottle. My foot's on the pedal, my hand is on the throttle. I'm turbo-boostin' from Houston to Vegas. You want us to quit, but shit, you can't make us. There's too much money to make, money to get, money to earn. My pockets are on "E", and I want money to burn. I got GUSTO, plus yo, I'm zeekin' 'em. Rollin' with L.D., Ken, Eyce, and Neek and 'em. Phat tracks, I'm freakin' 'em, word to your auntie. It's written all over your face, I know you want me.