| Eleven, fourteen, seventy-seven a nigga entered
|
| Big lips, popped out placenta
|
| Mom ain’t breast feed, had no pop neither
|
| Pop leaves shit but a name — Obie
|
| Elementary, homie, that’s how it started
|
| In garbage, retarded, gainin that heart
|
| Fuck niggas, claimin they hard, a nigga come home touched
|
| My motherfuckin momma bangin me harder
|
| «Nigga take your ass out their and fight them tomorrow»
|
| That’s what she told me, «little punk, blame that on your father»
|
| So I had no choice, nigga, pick up a brick
|
| Split a motherfucker’s shit for tryin to fuck with the kid
|
| Get a little older, hair on my dick, now I’m curious
|
| Niggas on the corner getting money, rockin jewelry
|
| Allowance, nigga, that ain’t man shit
|
| Cowardice, nigga, that ain’t man shit
|
| I had to prove to myself
|
| How these niggas same age as me calculatin' this wealth
|
| So I got me a clique and niggas what?
|
| Workin one sixteenth, like «nigga, we can clean up»
|
| Follow my life, homie from start 'til now
|
| Only my motherfuckin momma nigga holds me down
|
| And Lord knows all the shit that I done put her through
|
| I speak through her, straight to you motherfuckers
|
| Follow my life, homie from start 'til now
|
| Only my motherfuckin momma nigga holds me down
|
| And Lord knows all the shit that I done put her through
|
| I speak through her, straight to you motherfuckers
|
| Two for one, here, here take this, two for one
|
| Quit switching dicks, holla at me, see you fuck with
|
| Summer '94, I’m gettin a little dough
|
| Taller than my momma, so I’m listenin to her nose
|
| I’m listenin to them hoes scream «O!»
|
| And I’m listenin to them O’s go CHOP! |
| (*echo*)
|
| P-Funk, Joe and me pumpin on the block, summertime
|
| I call her auntie, she cop three at a time
|
| Throw a extra bump bringin cline
|
| I’m so involved with the grind, I’m losin my mind
|
| Fuck a steady job, I’m tryin
|
| I steady mob, I’m dyin in this game, I ain’t lyin
|
| Sellin so much coke forgettin it’s a crime
|
| Flyin down I-75, pocket full of dimes
|
| Give a fuck about the radar on me (*police sirens*)
|
| Bumpin +Big Poppa+ nigga who tryin me?
|
| (*Notorious B.I.G.'s +Big Poppa+ plays in background*)
|
| (Cop) — Get off the god damn truck!
|
| (Obie) — Fuck you, yo I ain’t did shit!
|
| (Cop) — Put your fucking hands in the air!
|
| (Obie) — Bitch!
|
| Follow my life, homie from start 'til now
|
| Only my motherfuckin momma nigga holds me down
|
| And Lord knows all the shit that I done put her through
|
| I speak through her, straight to you motherfuckers
|
| Follow my life, homie from start 'til now
|
| Only my motherfuckin momma nigga holds me down
|
| And Lord knows all the shit that I done put her through
|
| I speak through her, straight to you motherfuckers
|
| (*echo*)
|
| Yeah, all my of life
|
| Only my momma know
|
| Obie. |
| Obie Trice. |
| Shady and it’s crazy, motherfuckers |