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Joell OrtizJoell Ortiz 

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Joell Ortiz

Joell Ortiz (born July 6, 1980) is an American rapper from Brooklyn, New York, and a member of the group Slaughterhouse. more »

3:20

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(Hesami)

I wake up feeling different, back stiffened
Joints cracking, snapping I mean listen
Some days I don't wanna get out my bed at all
They got me on a Statin, I'm rapping wit high cholesterol
I would f*ck bitches on the edge of the bed and fall off
Then keep fucking on the floor, but not anymore
Nowadays just the smell of Henny and my head is sore
A night out is dinner with the wife and Pinot Noir
Got a nice little crib out in Jers', I'm in the burbs
No more roaches, Deers and birds
Sitting in my backyard while I write this shit
Pool cover over the water 'til it get nice and shit
Thinkin' 'bout them project nights I'd ignite the fifth
Now I gotta Glock 48 that I fire legit
Think twice before you run up wit that okey doke
'Cause my wife got the Sig, case you want the smoke 
I 'member when home was looking through the peephole
Hoping the police don't kick in my do', reach fo'
They weapon and use lethal force on me and my people
Now I'm in Home Depot looking for a Gazebo
I was in them streets like Rico
But the boy from Puerto Rico ain't get caught up in the RICO
It was OD package anytime I moved the diesel
Not it's O.G status, new ways to move the needle 

A young one in the slums
Where you ain't 'posed to live beyond twenty-one
They look at us as just numbers
On our way to being six feet under
But every now and then one of us escapes
And gets to live a life from outside the gates
God had big plans for lil' old me
Salute to those who get to be a OG

I buried friends when they was lil' kids
Too young to fully comprehend just what living is
Where I'm from we celebrate those who did a bid
Stripes get earned when fire burns and you split a wig
We ain't born evil, just is what it is
When it's nothing in the fridge to stick to ya ribs
I member my clique sitting in the crib
Drawing straws to do sticks and get bricks like 3 Little Pigs
Some a call that surviving but hey
If one of those went wrong I ain't rhyming today
I don't get to save somebody else that's finding they way
Out the place you never get to live but you dying to stay
This Azad on my wrist is tough
I wear it over the scar where my wrist was cuffed
All my real niggas listen up
You'll always love ya hood
But when you leave you won't miss it much

A young one in the slums
Where you ain't 'posed to live beyond twenty-one
They look at us as just numbers
On our way to being six feet under
But every now and then one of us escapes
And gets to live a life from outside the gates
God had big plans for lil' old me
Salute to those who get to be a OG

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