yeah...obie trice, real name "no gimmicks"
i came in the game, profane no "image"
i came in the game with a name i's given
from a mane who ain't give a fuck about his chit-len
i proclaim the name no, never in vain no,
watch the change grow
a young nigga who don' gain from fame
cop the "range rove"
now they want my brains on the main road
but they don't understand what i came for
i came forth with a million sold
who said you can't grow from mildew?
and mold, getting money like "ross perole"
i'm often told, a coffin's the route's i go
"o" that's the roads you on, "oh no"
i'm down for the rightful tone of fo-fo
don't ever try to send a nigga home. (no, no)
i know you wanna catch me at "sinoko"
show me that you're loco, put holes in my photo
nope! obie! hold toast no jokes send slugs threw your "polo"
just cause oh a thug roll solo
impose on grown folks, be a cold negro
be low, you grieved up people
believe that the "boy" see no evil
[chorus: busta rhymes]
oh...i have you yelling' out when i bag the "30/30 rifle"
oh...to late for niggaz to get religious and start reading they bible
oh...see you get down like other niggaz you be in that dirty cycle
oh...see you should make peace instead of making me become a psycho
i visualized it...
'o trice at twenty-five survived it,
pride but violent
invite the violence, fist fighting the fireman
beat retirement, 'til these niggaz nights is silent
'o trice from a trifling environment
he rocks the mic no sight of retiring
maybe when the bank accounts light like fire then