Oh!

"Oh!"(feat. Busta Rhymes)[Verse 1 - Obie Trice]Yeah, Obie Trice, real name no gimmicksI came in the game, profane no imageI came in the game, with a nameI was given from a mayn who ain't give a fuck about his child-renI proclaim the name though, never in vain noWatch the change grow, a young nigga who didn't gain from fameCopped the Range Ro', now they want my brains on the main roadThey don't understand what I came forHow I came fo', with a million soldWho say you can't grow from mildew and moldGettin money like Ross PerotI'm often told, a coffin's the routes I goOh that's the road you on, oh noI'm down for the rifle, tone the fo foDon't ever try to send a nigga home, no noI know you wanna catch me at SunocoShow me that your loco put holes in my photoNOPE!, HOPE!, hold toast, no jokes, send slugs through your PoloJust cause our thug roll soloAnd po' zone grown folk, be a cold negroBe-low, your grieved up peopleBe-lieve that the boy see no evil[Chorus - Busta Rhymes]OHH! I had you yellin out when I backed a 30&30 RifleOHH! Too late for niggaz to get religious and start readin they BibleOHH! See you can yell like other niggaz, your pickin a dirty psychoOHH! See you should make peace instead of makin me become a psycho[Verse 2 - Obie Trice]I visualized it, O. Trice at 25 survived itBright but violent, invite the violenceFist fight a fireman, be a tyrant'Til these niggaz nights is silentO. Trice from a trife environmentHe 'Rock's the Mic' no sight of retirinMaybe when the bank accounts light like a fire thinI'm in the position to hire other clients thenMeanwhile I'm a virus like IversonA nigga crossover, Europeans admirinAnd the soldier's retirin, I ain't buyinMotherfuckers actin like you denyin themWho tryin a nigga, who use buyersI figure your crew tired, my trigger introduces VIOLENCELoose the sirus, you in hospital, orange juice and vitaminsNo coke[Chorus][Verse 3 - Obie Trice]A derelict who inherited hustleMy heritage married the street struggleLike a couple of a great unk's ago (yeah)So this blood streams through my nutsSeems like I wasn't in touchWhen the teacher's ass spokeNope, naw I was just a preacher in oathSit on the bleachers and flip cokeThe only reach you got through my domeNiggaz yaffle so the gat'll be chromePull the window raffle, so I scramble with a track and the phones (woo)Fuck a act and a clone, this is actual happening's that's factual back in my homeThis is rap, but I ain't rappin so you clappin the zoneThink we trapped in the act, for the sake of performin (nigga)This is your warnin, run up on the wrongAnd your tissue is burning a hundred degrees warm [Blaap]O. Treezy's gone, my nigga Buzz bring the track back here for 'emC'mon[Chorus]