|
zuò cí : Best, Credle |
|
Yo - I hold the keys to the fountain of youth |
|
Plus keys to a double-R 4 point 6 dick |
|
Still in the mix, still up to old tricks up in the club |
|
Gettin twisted, throwin down shots of the poison |
|
Poppin off bottles like boilers |
|
V. I. P. reserved for the crew club on the spoilers |
|
Massive respect we get, nuttin less |
|
We hold power in the place when they see our face |
|
We try to stay low pro' but it' s im-possible |
|
We look at ourselves as norm yet, others see a glow |
|
Familiar faces - we live niggaz not players |
|
Look cash in our pockets in layers like ballplayers |
|
Naysayers hatin from the sideline, get a life |
|
Shouldn' t, be in the spot if your shit ain' t tight |
|
False advertisin ain' t us, we stay risin |
|
D. I. T. C. dot com enterprises |
|
Chorus: O. C. |
|
I' m livin life to the utmost, y' know? |
|
I wouldn' t trade it in for nuttin else, knahmsayin? |
|
I' m exactly who I am, no if' s, no and' s |
|
" No can do" ain' t in my vocabulary |
|
O. C. |
|
I, set it in motion, voicebox locked in position |
|
To do my thing, O. C. I run things |
|
Youngest of my siblings, I' m God' s gift to the opposite sex |
|
Won' t take no for an answer |
|
I' m spoiled like that, your highness, one of New York' s finest |
|
And I' m not talkin about Jake, let' s roleplay |
|
I' m Diallo, 16 shots from my barrel |
|
Plainclothes style, authentic street apparel |
|
Slim figure, nickname Mush to my niggaz |
|
When I' m in England call me Erick Von Sipper |
|
Sippin on Don with Prince Andrew at the palace |
|
He diggin my style with the chicks, I show prowess |
|
When I' m in Denmark, I spark with the Duke |
|
Run a train on the Duchess, let my nuts hang loose |
|
My shine be devine, toes they gold too |
|
Who' s fuckin with O, y' all niggaz like juevo soup |
|
Chorus x2 |
|
O. C. |
|
See I - tote guns when I gotta stack funds |
|
When them niggaz rap funds be, longer than the Mississippi River |
|
Passion for the women, action' s what I give ' em |
|
What' s my name. . nigga? Yo |
|
What I spark in the dark, any type of remark |
|
I bring forth from the side of my hand, make sure |
|
When I spit gems it' s no cracks, no flaws |
|
Only crack I' d rather is a ass wearin a thong from |
|
. . Miami to San Juan |
|
To Rio, De Janeiro, to Spain and then some |
|
Slummin degrees with chicks that I met from Belize |
|
Sanjy, Angie, Rhonda, Big Tez, Charise |
|
I' m not lyin y' all, it' s the life I know |
|
And if I lie my nose will grow |
|
I' m not biased to the fact I went plat' over gold |
|
Cause when in Rome that' s a whole ' nother song |
|
Gettin head on the Leanin Tower of Pisa from an Italian diva |
|
Sippin fresh wine from crushed grapes |
|
She greet a nigga like, royalty, with the utmost loyalty |
|
Run a bubble bath, wash me and just spoil me |
|
Chorus x2 |