| Smack, and when you hear that, then ya
|
| Know that it’s the quiet riot storming in the center
|
| (No doubt) Do it like this and like that
|
| Put the change in the streets from fists to gats
|
| Feeling loosey goosey off the liquor, can’t shut these
|
| Lips up, never slip up, but on point just like
|
| A stick-up. |
| I’ll shoot my gift to your gut like
|
| A jail jux and run my line up your spine like
|
| A blind book. |
| Shook crooked booked. |
| Ain’t no time
|
| For joking, provoke this like gun smoke. |
| Some nice
|
| And hoping, soaked in acid eating, can be that
|
| Bastard. |
| Eleven thirty fire, sound burn asses
|
| To ashes
|
| Rips and tears—when you hear that, then ya
|
| Know that it’s the Big Kahuna next on your menu
|
| (Lord have mercy) Do it like this and that
|
| Making changes on the streets from fists to gats, hah
|
| I race to the new unknown. |
| No one
|
| Is home, so I relax my chrome
|
| Temporarily until I come face-to-face with these
|
| Fake-ass slackers who try to bury we
|
| You better be mentally, physically fit
|
| ‘Cause O.G.C. |
| comes equipped for your lip
|
| No flapping. |
| Having heart attacks when we’re coming through
|
| Your back door, and you still asking for more
|
| Of Top Dog, but you don’t really want no more
|
| They all fall, and they all spoiled
|
| (Booyah!) And when you hear that, then ya
|
| Know that it’s the beast from the East—don't enter
|
| (No doubt) Do it up like this and that
|
| Make the change in the streets, like, from fists to gats
|
| Niggas don’t be knowing what be going
|
| On when I be flowing wilder than Samoans
|
| Bitches get dissed because they Miss like Jones
|
| When it’s my turn to throw, you get hit with stones
|
| Now I guess your whole crew’s under pressure
|
| Don’t mess around with the sarge, man. |
| I’m Large like Professor
|
| Spots blown—run for cover. |
| It’s just another
|
| Boot Camp bomb—sound the alarm, I’m with Sluggah
|
| (Everything is real) AKA the nature
|
| (Everything is real) What we call it? |
| Nature
|
| (Everything is real) AKA the nature
|
| (Everything is real) O.G.C. |
| call it nature
|
| When I ran around town, doing things I did
|
| Bucking shots at them criminal kids
|
| Many tried to infiltrate through my mind state
|
| But my mate, the lye break kept my fucking mind straight
|
| Bitches get put up, and punks shot down
|
| Frowns on their faces when them niggas draw the trey pounds
|
| Clowns front, act like they don’t know
|
| But O.G.C. |
| agrees that that’s a no-no
|
| Crying, whining like that Lion, far
|
| From bows, so hop your ass on that fucking Yellow Road
|
| Sewn up from the toes up, emcees get
|
| No leeway (O.G.C.'ll split ya three-ways)
|
| From the parts
|
| Unknown, I have sparked and blown any punk
|
| Who wanna test, or any marked with the chrome
|
| It is known that my style increases
|
| Like the deficit. |
| You’re best to get out of my face. |
| I’m on some next shit
|
| Yes, it gets hectic like Chill Rob. |
| Ill squad
|
| Who pull the cards on retards
|
| We scar (Who?) anybody, and make niggas
|
| Wanna party, so don’t act rowdy ‘cause, in this room
|
| It’s mad cloudy. |
| Now we walk around with
|
| The Glock and the pound, G
|
| And you knows that
|
| There’s no stopping Fab 5, Ruck and Rocking
|
| Originoo Gunns make other crews run like stockings
|
| Hype when the mic’s inside my control
|
| Tighten up my grip so I won’t fold
|
| Wetting niggas, I’ll play too much, I’ll leave ‘em damp
|
| I’m the champ (Starang) you know from the Boot Camp
|
| The illest, obsolete fleet from PJ’s
|
| Gunn Clappa Numba One (Number one DJs)
|
| From the beginning, niggas knew they wasn’t winning
|
| Ninety-now is the ending of them niggas that’s pretending
|
| When you hear that, then ya
|
| Know that it’s the Originoo Gunn Clappaz—don't enter
|
| No doubt, do it like this and like that
|
| Put your change in the streets from fists to gats
|
| Rips and tears—when you hear that, then ya
|
| Know that it’s the Big Kahuna next on your menu
|
| (Lord have mercy) Do it like this and that
|
| Making changes on the streets from fists to gats, hah
|
| «Bitch, please.» |
| And when you hear that, then ya
|
| Know that it’s that nigga Starang—don't enter
|
| (No doubt) Do it up like this and that
|
| Wondering where all my niggas from Brooklyn at |