Lyrics:
stuff up, y'all feel good?
Yo, what the hell y'all wanna do, Syndicate, tonight, what you wanna do?
(Party!)
Randy Mac in the place to be, what you
clothes and Rolls
Or sit on the porch sip something real cold
I like the nine when you up and not O's
I do suits while you prefer the lows
Tonight I'mma
Ford
And I ain't thugging, they clapping at me, a encore
Got a dark heart, bright mind, make women crazy
I give her D, I throw up two, I call that shit
[Hook - 2x]
Maabin, in the streets, until we die
No more dope selling or robbing
We platinum and gold
That to make them diamonds shine
[Z-Ro]
I
Goosed up
Headed out the door, down the street to the Flame
Your homegirl was working so we went and threw some change
Bout 2 O'clock on the dot we was out
Got you counting from on to ten
And by the time you get up to nine, your ass is left behind
Cause you can't mess with the lyrical master rhymes
Send
Y'all know me, still the same O.G.
But I been low-key
Hated on by most these - with no cheese
No deals and no G's
No wheels and no keys
No
Y'all know me, still the same O.G.
But I been low-key
Hated on by most these niggas with no cheese
No deals and no G's
No wheels and no keys
No
Y'all know me, still the same O.G.
But I been low-key
Hated on by most these niggas with no cheese
No deals and no G's
No wheels and no keys
No
Up an' down from Buildin' 80?
Highs are extreme, lows are suicidal
Got me reachin' for the Bible 'cause I think I'm genocidal
Fakers think I'm
whoa!
[Lil' Fame]
Aiyyo I bring sorrow, you won't make it to tomorrow
Flames spit from the nozzle, pop one up in your (?)
(STREET TEAM) East coast up
.G.
[Repeat: x2]
[Black Child]
Yo man money, he funny, he a dummy, he ain't a {O.G.}
He gangsta, but he holy, might be a {O.G.}
High profile but low key
I'm good like G double O-D
OG kush by the motherfuckin' oz
Hoes wanna roll with a young nigga so street
You ain't fuckin' Tory 'less you
Tryna hit
Niggas know we popped up twice, ain't tripping
Playa points given, Grand Papi still sipping
Now as we flipping through these H-Town streets, two deep
gonna need a million gigabytes minimal
Niggas want to rap they gettin in it for dough
but start hangin up when they cell minutes are low
I'm toed back off
to war, okay?)
Everybody's coming with guns
Niggas gettin' pimped by Columbians
They put 'em on the streets like a bitch
Nigga's slangin' but
these streets
Tryna get a piece while always tryna keep my peace
Creepin on the low, Knockin down these doors
Real from head to toe, That's all I've
Done moved bricks alone seen some niggas change
Been in the streets war ready imma veteran in the games
Riding low pro while I'm solo ready 2 fuck with
(yeah)
I'ma I'ma put it on her (yeah)
I'ma I'ma put it on her (yeah)
Doing my two step off of club pure
The Girl walks by rocking christian diore
We
the weak
You won't deceive us
Let us merchandise an murderise
Any an all
Many will fall
It's jus' an
OG call
Made from the B
When I step up, I bet
interviewing people live from the street on the show a little bit later.
Yesterdays loser was Johnny. Johnny, listen up. You have been a bad boy. I don't
clipped by the 'K
Meditate and smokin', I be talking to P
Spittin', "Survival of the Fittest" while I walk down these streets
Bitch, it's a stick up
I
around me, ill ever breath for ya
I'll be your O2 you don't need that C for sure
I'm that life guard thats been missing for you
Sun's setting low baby
play
I shake up the box office
While umm you get thrown away
In a Bronco on highways like OJ
Jamming and oldies by Big Boi and Andre
Yep
I shift
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