Oh! Lyrics - Cheers - Obie Trice

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 man who ain't give a fuck about his chit-len 

I proclaim the name tho, 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? 

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And mold, getting money like Ross Peroe 

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 through your polo 

Just 'cause though 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 

Oh! I had you yellin' out when I backed the 30-30 rifle 

Oh! To late for niggaz to get religious and start reading they Bible 

Oh! See you can yell like other niggaz repeating the dirty cycle 

Oh! See you should make peace instead of making me become a psycho 

Photos 

I visualized it 

'O Trice at twenty-five survived it 

Pride but violent 

Invite the violence, fist fighting the fireman 

Be a tyrant, 'til these niggaz nights is silent 

'O Trice from a trife environment 

He rocks the mic no sight of retiring 

Maybe when the bank accounts like leviathan 

I'm in position to hire other clients 

(Bitch) 

Mean while I'm a virus like Iverson 

A nigga cross-over, Europeans and Myaran 

And the soldiers retiring 

I ain't buying motherfuckers acting like they denying him 

Who trying a nigga whose view's biased 

I figure your crews tired 

My trigger introduces 'Violence' 

(Dudes through sirens) 

You want to spittle Orange Juice and Vitamins 

Oh! I have you yellin' out when I bag the 30-30 rifle 

Oh! To late for niggaz to get religious and start reading they Bible 

Oh! See you can yell like other niggaz repeating the dirty cycle 

Oh! See you should make peace instead of making me become a psycho 

A derelict who inherited hustle 

My heritage married the street struggle 

Like a couple of great aunt's ago 

(Yeah) 

So this blood streams through my nuts 

Seems like I wasn't in touch 

When the teacher had spoke 

(No!) 

Now I was just a preacher in O 

Seat on the bleachers and flip coke 

The only reaching that got threw my dome 

Niggaz gamble so they get outta be chrome 

Pulled the winning raffle so 

I scramble with the track and the foams 

Fuck an act and a clone 

This is actual happenings that's factual, back in my home 

This is rap, but I ain't rapping so you clap in the "Zone" 

Think you're trapped in the act for the sake of performing 

This is your warning, run upon them wrong 

And your tissue was burning a hundred degrees more! 

O trizzy gone 

My nigga bust bring the hook back in for 'em 

(Come On) 

Oh! I had you yellin' out when I backed a 30-30 rifle 

Oh! To late for niggaz to get religious and start reading they Bible 

Oh! See you can yell like other niggaz who repeating the dirty cycle 

Oh! See you should make peace instead of making me become a psycho