Hot Ones (O.G’z Madness) lyrics

by

P Money


[Intro: Blacks]
Yeah, I'm

[Verse: P Money, Blacks & Little Dee]
I'm parring it
That last one that was a par, innit?
Nah I'm only joking, I'm just parring it
You don't wanna fight me, you're just barring it
Wow, that was a par, innit?
Mike said that your breath was parring it
What time is it, can I keep on parring it?
Why did you bring me here? I should have parred it
Man don't wan' ring me, I will par it
Shoot man in the legs, smile and par it
Man can't diss me and think I will bar it
I will take it to the max and par it
Jam knows I'm the best in the clique
More time just sit back and I par it
Hear so many MCs on radio
Sometimes I think, why are they tryna par it?
Woah, okay
This guy thinks I'm a prick okay
Ain't gonna say nutting but okay
Cos he's not sick he's just okay
I don't know why them man wanna act sick
On a set then assume everything's okay
When a man cats me I don't get mad
I'm just like right, safe, cool, okay
Then I flip like, who said it's okay?
22 shots in your head's okay
Man said he's gonna kill me on the MSN
So I typed back and I wrote "lol okay"
Man must think that I fight okay
Them man are still on the hype, okay
Came in the room, got a KO
Now man's asking him if he's okay
Yeah, it's the kid from the telly
Eyes too big for his belly
No guy's too big for the semi
Eightball, Rizla, cig and I'm ready
After, I sip on the Henney
Had your wife on the phone like "Oi Littlez, come round quick when you're ready"
Yeah, I ain't been writing much
Been picking up weight, not dieting much
But I'm back now, OG'z all over the map now
Two double O nine, I rap now
See mainstream money, it's that now
Get fat now
Like get out the booth, get a job now
Your girl's on my di*k, get her off now
Armani and Hugo Boss now
Like what d'you expect from a boss now?
Look how many man's trying
Don't violate me, fam it won't work
c*ck back the pump and see how it works
BOY! That's how it works
Got one ting that will rock and roll Earth
So I don't care about too many man
Becuh', becuh', got a new heater
I'll leave man dead on the speaker
In a war ting don't bring me to feature
One in a chest piece, one in a neck
Holding the ting like "Fam, who's next?"
Fake grime artists getting me vexed
Watch when I catch him, oi fam he's next
Man I'll stand over him then boom in the neck
Pepper him up with shots in the leg
Like "Yeah, still holding the mash again"
A'ight, safe
Who told this guy me and him's safe?
22 shots in your head for the safe
Walk of cas' like cool, safe
A'ight, seen
Who told this guy he's in the scene?
22 shots, bare bodies on the scene
Now man is on the ten o'clock news, seen
A'ight cool
Who told this guy me and him's cool?
22 shots in your head ain't cool
If you still wanna get that then cool
A'ight, blessed
What made you think everything's blessed?
22 shots in your forehead's blessed
Now you can tell everyone you're blessed
Yeah, yeah, I'm OG'd off
Wooly hat and an OG top
You're rolling off, one sweep
Your Rollie's off
You don't know these dogs
Some dangerous pitbull can't
Control these lot, OG'z
We got the whole street locked
Patrol these blocks?
Hold shots like Chelsea's goalie got
Check one, skunk coming out
Of the left lung, grade from the other
Move back, pull out the flame and you're smothered
I've got cake, not cutter
Phone me, 'cause they ain't bussed
Since O 3, money on my mind
You know me, know yourself
OG'z hold the belt
They can't clash me
I'll bury them, can't bite me
I'll bun them, no joke ting
'Til the pumpy bun them
I will five, four, three, two, one them
Even Jendor knows we were done then
Can't take all this BS from them
I will turn stone cold and stun them
Man can't move [?], tell 'em move funk
I don't care 'bout none of these chumps
Bare man pulled up but they're all punks
Man wanna bite me 'til I draw pumps
Don't think you and your best friend's hard
I'll spray up your marge's yard
One of them little kids are gonna get parred
Don't push me off 'cause it won't be bars
I'll let P start smashing up cars
If man's talking
Like he's a shooter
Wait here, I'll get the shooter
Come back with P letting of a ruga
Head scattered, somebody get a hoover
Naturally cold, them man need a tutor
Moving bent, go and get a ruler
Gassed up playing too much computer
Man said "''llow it", what a loser
Fool, you're on a cute ting
Man disagrees, man get a muting
Come to your rave blacked out on a crew ting
Straight to the door, it's not a queue ting
Bouncers are hyping, I'll remove him
Backseat's full up, so it's a boot ting
After the rave, bare cars get taken
Now for you it's a bus or a shoe ting
Who are you talking to?
D'you know who you're talking to?
I'm not in a talking mood
Don't talk hard unless you're talking food
Rare, rare, rare
Rah, rah, rah
Ah, you're one of them talking dudes
Your talk is cheap
My talk is truth
We talk with heat
You talk in the booth
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net