The square root of a kilo is me nigga We gon' have it locked Cause we the only thing to talk about If Michael Jackson came alive right now He'd ask you to smoke one for him So in his honor You niggas Spud Webb, coming up short Think you're Dee Brown,

The door's open wide Come in from out of the rain So you stare Call it despair, baby Don't you care I'm on the square about you Let's have a try It maybe that you're my guy