O.C.D. lyrics

[Intro]
Swag,Swag

[Verse 1: Slim Thug]
Swag
b*tch I'm fresh up out the bag
Every time you see me I be fresh up off a tag
I keep a do fifty, keep them hoes on di*k
I keep a fly ride to keep them saying it’s the sh*t
Stay clean I'm a O.C.D n*gga
Don't get it twisted cause I kick it, I’m a G n*gga
Say you fly, you ain't G6, that's me, n*gga
Belt a stack and the shoes two g's n*gga
See, n*gga? My swag got ya budging
And you ain't gotta like it but your b*tch sure love it
It's nothing, it's nothing, it's nothing when you’re hustling
I stay O.C.D so stay the f*ck away from me (haan!)

[Chorus: Killa Kyleon & Slim Thug]
X’s [?] for the stacks, dubs for the women
All on di*k, g's how I’m living I'm a street n*gga
With a lotta cream
Stupid with a bunch of guap that mean I got swag
b*tch we turnt up
These n*ggas cut down
Oh that's your main ho?
She's just a bust down
I’m a street n*gga, with a lot of cream
Stupid with a bunch of guap that mean I got swag
[Verse 2: Killa Kyleon]
Real n*gga, one hunnid
99 ain't adding up
Chase the paper I'm speeding, n*gga
Looking back when I pass you up
Now pass the cup I'm leaning
Two zips I'm dreaming
With a bad b*tch, your last b*tch
She mine now cause I cash-get
I'm talking money, you talking slow
They all ears, I'm talking more
Your pockets quiet, they speechless
What the f*ck are you talking for?
Fresh like I hopped out plastic
Stuck on the ground like velcro
Pedal to the floor, I'm mashing
And that red coupe look like Elmo
Street n*gga not no sesame
Money-making my recipe
Garlic weed and that french toast [?????]
Making bread my specialty
All I do is count like Dracula
Get more, get more, stack it up
Money make her come, she freaking
Reverse, reverse, back it up
She wine fine, Moscato bottle
My neck, my wrist like Colorado
Rocky n*gga, I'm Stallone
Syrup my soda, kush my cologne
T-E-X-A-S, n*gga, run that b*tch like Jay do [??]
Money my main, your ex-b*tch
Running that b*tch like [??]
[Chorus: Killa Kyleon & Slim Thug]
X's [?] for the stacks, dubs for the women
All on di*k, g's how I'm living I'm a street n*gga
With a lotta cream
Stupid with a bunch of guap that mean I got swag
b*tch we turnt up
These n*ggas cut down
Oh that's your main ho?
She's just a bust down
I'm a street n*gga, with a lot of cream
Stupid with a bunch of guap that mean I got swag

[Verse 3: Le$]
Brim low, let fly
b*tch you know I'm that guy
Candy drippin wet, my whip look like it just got baptised
Beatin out the trunk, you n*ggas hear me when I pass by
I'm super tight, don't ask why
Three blunts' smell, I'm mad high
Gucci belt on my di*kies, b*tches saying I'm pretty
Fat ass and them titties, got her coming outta her Vickie's
b*tches be coming and b*tches be going
They loving the way that a n*gga be flowing
I'm spitting the game and it's getting them hoping to
Put my peninsula up in her ocean
Hoping I don't blow, so lame
b*tch I'm swanging in your lane
Mad because they screaming L-E-Dollar and not your name
My money growing, no rogaine
Them stones whiter than cocaine
We showing naked [???]
[Chorus: Killa Kyleon & Slim Thug]
X's [?] for the stacks, dubs for the women
All on di*k, g's how I'm living I'm a street n*gga
With a lotta cream
Stupid with a bunch of guap that mean I got swag
b*tch we turnt up
These n*ggas cut down
Oh that's your main ho?
She's just a bust down
I'm a street n*gga, with a lot of cream
Stupid with a bunch of guap that mean I got swag