Obie Trice
Obie Trice - Loot songtekst
Je score:
(Intro) Man they ain't comin back for the cocaine They came back mace Yea! Obie Trice Yea Obie Obie Trice It's that shit, nigga Get it real nigga, no gimmicks You know what I'm talkin bout I need loot I need loot (Verse) Coke boy, oh boy Straight out the gutter where niggas have to fight for it Risk yo life for it, take flight for it Boxin awkward in the game just like Floyd Crams rappin, wrappin em up in plastic Put a tax on it to ship em off to addicts Yall ain't gotta aks about my actions I was back in from the hood, a crack activist (I need loot) Nah I ain't blow dough, sold it on the low low Hustle up enough to put rims on the 4 door Hoes in the momo, Obie it's yo dolo Motorola explode, I was deeply chased though And I erase hoes Bought some foreign cuts now where's the pesos O in the Oldsmobile, holdin on the dollar bill Just forget a holler for lil mama or maybe Fields Guess I'm a real nigga first Caught a thrill when I'm pushin them pills, watch it disperse Hoppin out the waffle house, with problem I phase you Pager on my waist could probably feed a nation (Hook) I mean look Straight slingin rocks Oh man they come so crooked as? Trice! Get it real nigga, no gimmicks Pack guns, ridiculous (Verse) Hopin out the whips to straight out of this dixon Throw a bar, eagle on the nine and you dip it Super daddy-o, the champ sound audio Those 15's, I'm the man in the body-o Allow me to take it back to 92 With a 40 ounce blue and a nigga like John Kru Disrespect me, I gotta go see what the ruga do Niggas don't follow, you be with the losers prove Beneath the core or whoever we love before Cuz whoever we lovin now keep openin heaven's door Cuz they comin for sure, post-mortem some orphan Forced to go up the hate, Obie Trice Aldrin Kushin the tourists, wrapped up oranges Drop it down somewhere cordial, don't need a tourist Tourist only here from some case, you can't afford this Money take a nigga through curses Nigga I work for this, I murk for this I erase your loved one who birthed yo bitch Have mercy on them law that's so powerful is I kept a pistol on my purse and chest for this just for this (Hook) I mean look Straight slingin rocks Oh man they come so crooked as? Trice! Get it real nigga, no gimmicks Pack guns, ridiculous (Verse) Crack poppin, Obie know where it markin Often mama had a problem with my logic She ain't never stopped so she dead, rest in peace Eleanor All she ever wanted for them boys was what's better for em What you think I'm sellin for way before the bell out Reapers on the porch watch a lady hit a mel out First in 15, nigga hoe sex sell out No disrespect, boy you wind up in yo mama shit I'm just a hustler on some dope boy gunner smith (Outro) Straight slingin rocks I'm just a hustler on some dope boy gunner smith Straight slingin rocks I'm just a hustler on some dope boy gunner smith Yea!