[Verse 1]. 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. [Verse 2]. 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. 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. [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. [Verse 3]. A daralent co-inherent 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 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 gat 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). [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.