Lyrics Big Ole - Obn Jay, JayDaYoungan

Big Ole

Big old checks comin' straight through the mail
Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs
OBN, yeah
Big old checks comin' straight through the mail
Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs
Go make a deposit to throw in the air
I’m a real nigga, put that in the air
Go shoppin' for nothin', my bitch in Chanel
Sauce on my ass, check out my underwear
Crossin' Lil Jay, that shit there a lil' rare
You say that it’s smoke, so what up?
What the deal?
Pull up, you know that that banger with me
Trap niggas really be hangin' with me
While I’m chasin' that bread, I be duckin' the heat
'Cause you bitches gon' die if you fuckin' with me
Tryna get me a bag 'fore I’m stuck in the streets
Climbin' straight up but I ain’t touch the peak
Bae, you can ask for whatever you need
Float under ten with a Glock on the seat
All the ratchets excited, just heard I’m in town
Bitch, you need to go sit down
All the shit that I got, I got that on my own
But you look like you a lil' clone
Got them racks in my ear like I picked up the phone
In the back of the club and I’m sippin' on chrome
Thirty-eight in my shoe, I’m performin' my song
I don’t need security, I got my own
I been on the road tryna chase sacks
And I can’t let, flex bad nigga, take, take, take that
Still clutchin' burners on the road, can’t go Hollywood
Got enough time for to make another sack
And I’m still that same nigga, OBN, yeah yeah yeah yeah
Bitch, you know I’m clutchin' F&N's, got one in the head
Bare face, no mask, run in the stash
Was broke as a bitch, I done got off my ass
His partner a rat but he don’t get a pass
If I love you just know that I’m gon' give my last
Never gon' listen, throw the thoughts in the trash
Pushin' the foreign, I swear that bitch fast
I flexed up, next up
I know that they hatin', I got these niggas a lil' mad
Big old checks comin' straight through the mail
Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs
Go make a deposit to throw in the air
I’m a real nigga, put that in the air
Go shoppin' for nothin', my bitch in Chanel
Sauce on my ass, check out my underwear
Crossin' Lil Jay, that shit there a lil' rare
You say that it’s smoke, so what up?
What the deal?
Pull up, you know that that banger with me
Trap niggas really be hangin' with me
While I’m chasin' that bread, I be duckin' the heat
'Cause you bitches gon' die if you fuckin' with me
Tryna get me a bag 'fore I’m stuck in the streets
Climbin' straight up but I ain’t touch the peak
Bae, you can ask for whatever you need
Float under ten with a Glock on the seat
Fuck you if you ain’t on my team
Fuck with me and, bitch, you gon' bleed
These niggas ain’t real, shit, that’s what I believe
That lil' ho ain’t shit, no she ain’t what I need
Clutch sticks every day of the week
Too much goin' on so I stay with that heat
They know what I’m on, bitch, I stay in the streets
Put me on a song, put his face on a tee
I got a big check waitin' for me
Go pick up the bag, I don’t like meet and greets
They say they want beef, I ain’t lookin' for peace
We gon' hop out with heat, put that bitch straight to sleep
Got tats on my face and my neck what I bleed
Bitch I mean what I say and I say what I mean
The reaper on side me, I barely can sleep
They talkin' 'bout money but broke, I can see
Hop out a coupe, got two doors
These niggas be pussy like two hoes, yeah
Sports only, no cruise mode
Sippin' on mud so a young nigga move slow
Ice on me, I’m too cold
Johnny Dang flooded my mouth, my tooth froze
Buy one, get two more
Bitches be catchin' them plays like Julio
Big old checks comin' straight through the mail
Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs
Go make a deposit to throw in the air
I’m a real nigga, put that in the air
Go shoppin' for nothin', my bitch in Chanel
Sauce on my ass, check out my underwear
Crossin' Lil Jay, that shit there a lil' rare
You say that it’s smoke, so what up?
What the deal?
Pull up, you know that that banger with me
Trap niggas really be hangin' with me
While I’m chasin' that bread, I be duckin' the heat
'Cause you bitches gon' die if you fuckin' with me
Tryna get me a bag 'fore I’m stuck in the streets
Climbin' straight up but I ain’t touch the peak
Bae, you can ask for whatever you need
Float under ten with a Glock on the seat
Big old checks comin' straight through the mail
They comin' straight through the, uh
Big blue hundreds comin' straight through the mail
They comin' straight through the, uh
Try to come jack and I’m goin' to jail
Swear that I’m goin'
Try to come jack and I’m goin' to jail
Swear that I’m go-oh-oin'
Da-da-da-da
Da-da-da, oh whoa-oh