[ilingku:030] [ver:v1.0] [ti:Oh!] [ar:Obie Trice] [al:Cheers] [by:] [offset:0] [00:01.230]Artist:obie trice [00:03.040]Songs Title:oh [00:21.130]Yeah Obie Trice real name no gimmicks [00:25.060]I came in the game profane no image [00:27.620]I came in the game with a name [00:29.490]I was given from a mayn who ain't give a f**k about his child-ren [00:33.370]I proclaim the name though never in vain no [00:36.120]Watch the change grow a young ni**a who didn't gain from fame [00:40.240]Copped the Range Ro' now they want my brains on the main road [00:43.750]They don't understand what I came for [00:46.070]How I came fo' with a million sold [00:48.430]Who say you can't grow from mildew and mold [00:50.990]Gettin money like Ross Perot [00:52.980]I'm often told a coffin's the routes I go [00:56.240]Oh that's the road you on oh no [00:58.920]I'm down for the rifle tone the fo fo [01:01.480]Don't ever try to send a ni**a home no no [01:04.930]I know you wanna catch me at Sunoco [01:06.990]Show me that your loco put holes in my photo [01:09.810]NOPE HOPE hold toast no jokes send slugs through your Polo [01:15.430]Just cause our thug roll solo [01:17.160]And po' zone grown folk be a cold negro [01:20.300]Be-low your grieved up people [01:22.520]Be-lieve that the boy
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Artist:obie trice Songs Title:oh Yeah Obie Trice real name no gimmicks I came in the game profane no image I came in the game with a name I was given from a mayn who ain't give a f**k about his child-ren I proclaim the name though never in vain no Watch the change grow a young ni**a who didn't gain from fame Copped the Range Ro' now they want my brains on the main road They don't understand what I came for How I came fo' with a million sold Who say you can't grow from mildew and mold Gettin money like Ross Perot I'm often told a coffin's the routes I go Oh that's the road you on oh no I'm down for the rifle tone the fo fo Don't ever try to send a ni**a home no no I know you wanna catch me at Sunoco Show me that your loco put holes in my photo NOPE HOPE hold toast no jokes send slugs through your Polo Just cause our thug roll solo And po' zone grown folk be a cold negro Be-low your grieved up people Be-lieve that the boy