Busta Rhymes Oh! Lyrics
Yea
Obie Trice
Real name no gimmicks
I came in the game profane no image
I came in the game with the name I was given from a mang
Who didn't give a f___ about his chil'den
I proclaim the name though
Never in vain no
Watch the change grow
A young n____ who didn't gain from fame
c___ the Range Ro'
Now they want my brains on the main road
But they don't understand what I came fo'
How I came forth with a million sold
Who say you can't grow from mildew and mold
Gettin money like Ross Perot
I'm often told
A cough is the routes I go
O that's the road you on oh no!
I'm down for the rifle tone, the 4-4
Don't even try to send a n____ home ( no no! )
I know you wanna catch me at Sunoco
Show me that you're loco
Put holes in my photo
Nope!
Ope!
Hold toast no jokes then slugs through your polo
Just cause O a thug roll solo
And pose on grown fo' be a cold negro
Below
You grieved up people
Believe that the boy see no evil
--(Chorus)--
Oh O!
I had you yellin' out when I bagged the thirty thirty rifle
Oh O!
Too late for n____s to get religious and start readin they bible
Oh O!
See you can tell like the n____s be pickin the dirty cycle
Oh O!
See you should make b____es that'll make you leave an come a psycho
---
I visualized it
O Trice at twenty-five survived it
Bright but violent
Invite the violence
Fist fight a firemen
Be a tyrant to these n____s nice and silent
O Trice from a triph environment
He rocks the mic no sign of retirin
Maybe want the bank accounts like Leviathan
I'm in position to hire up clients spend
Meanwhile I'm a virus like Iverson
The n____ cross over
Europeans admirin'
And the soldiers is tirin'
I ain't buyin
m_________ers actin like they denyin him
Who tryin a n____
Who views biased
I figure your crew tired
My trigger introduces violence
Produce them sirens
You on the spittle
Orange juice and vitamins n____
--Chorus--
A derelict who inherited hustle
My heritage married the street struggle
Like a couple of great uncs ago
So this blood streams through my nuts
Seems like I wasn't in touch when the teacher asked fo'
Na I was just a preacher in O
Seat on the bleachers and flip c__e
The only reach I got through my dome
n____s gaffle so they gotta be chrome
Pulled to win the raffle so I scramble with the track and the phones
f___ a actin the clone
This is actual happenings
That's factual back at my home
This is rap but I ain't rappin so you clap in the zone
Think I'm trapped into actin for the sake of performin?
This is your warnin'
Run up on em wrong
And your tissue is burnin a hundred degrees warm
O Treezies gone
My n____ Bust bring da hook back in for 'em
--Chorus--
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