Yo!

[Obie Trice] Yo, Obie Trice, yo I'm with backdoor productions, no discussion, O Trice be the sound that's rushin your eardrums Pump it up if you feeling em, this is hip hop pure adrenaline I'm a winner, I step on the scene Start to cipher, bitches start to scream Cock back, niggas start to flee Ain't nobody in this motherfucker with me I'm a dog, I walk what I talk Detroit niggas see straight through your heart Niggas want to bark, niggas get traced in chalk By the law in the adam car with this rap I be at em all I spit through the mic and niggas just scatter off The boss before that bitch rap that, these bitch made Niggas get their shit pushed the fuck back [Chorus: Repeat 2x] You know O Trice spit the hot shit that's the realest Keep lacing dope tracks that's the illest Hot joints for my raw ass niggas That make motherfuckers go yo [Obie Trice] Motherfuckers ain't trying to see Mr. Trice Yo I pump up the party, pump nut up in ya wife Me and you, two different types You want to be hardcore while my shit's precise I recite make niggas want to blast on any punk ass nigga in sight My focus, to take niggas minds over Somebody's murdered once my rhyme's over I do this the regular way A regular cat with an irregular verbal spray You know my thoughts deep when it runs A weirdo sleeping with mad guns Who want some, you can have it, semi-automatic catch the trace around You be lost and found Chalked up with Obie Trice branded on ya ass nigga what [Chorus: Repeat 2x]