OGE, Pt. 2 (feat. Sha Ek)
East London Magician
Grah, grah, grah
Gang-gang-gang
Everything dead (Grah, grah)
Every opp shot
Everything dead, every opp shot, every flocka shot
I was laughin' when that boy was lackin'
Catch lil leeky, we gon' end up clappin'
OGE, yeah we blitzin' like it's Madden
Spin the 8, we tryna catch Assassin
Spin what? (Grah) Spin who? (Grah)
Oh, I forgot we smokin' Boomer too (Boomer)
Met a little baddie, she shakin' the room (Grah-grah)
She gon shoot if I tell her to shoot (Like)
She get neaky (Neaky), she get naughty
She up the beam right up under the .40 (40)
I don't care, if it's up then it's stuck
Everything dead, bitch we don't give a fuck (Like)
Sha Gz, when I spin through just duck
Aim for his dreads, hollow hit, he was slumped
Grah
That's facts, we made it
All them other pussy niggas baited
I was grindin' while them niggas hated
Big Die Gzz, now look at they faces
Now I'm rich, now I'm lit
Carry my knocks 'cause I'm still on that shit
Try to run up, and get turned to a spliff
PJ be drivin', but still tryna hop out the whip
Got the drop so we gotta go blitz
Brodie on point and he still tryna catch him a rip
Mori Blixk, don't forget you a faggot (Faggot)
Catch Kha, that's a Brooklyn basket (Grah-grah)
Like who savage?
Matt Sav, he got put in a package
If it's Fifth to the Sev, let 'em have it (Have it)
Ayo Nesty, go and get you a ratchet (Bitch)
Or the Gates gon' be carryin' your caskets
Once again we don't fuck with no flockas (Grah-grah)
Trynna up it, change a nigga roster (Roster)
Wearin' Amiri denims like the shotter (Grah-glah)
You can't spin through my block you impostor (Bitch)
Lefty throwin' shots, it's hot as lava (Lava)
I was laughin' when that boy was lackin'
Catch lil leeky, we gon' end up clappin'
OGE, yeah we blitzin' like it's Madden
Spin the 8, we tryna catch Assassin (Bitch)
Spin what? (Grah) Spin who? (Grah)
Oh, I forgot we smokin' Boomer too (Boomer)
I was grindin' while them niggas hated
Big Die Gzz, now look at they faces
Now I'm rich, now I'm lit
Carry my knocks 'cause I'm still on that shit
Try to run up and get turned into a spliff
PJ be drivin' but still tryna hop out the whip
Grah, grah, grah
Gang-gang-gang
Everything dead (Grah, grah)
Every opp shot
Everything dead, every opp shot, every flocka shot
I was laughin' when that boy was lackin'
Catch lil leeky, we gon' end up clappin'
OGE, yeah we blitzin' like it's Madden
Spin the 8, we tryna catch Assassin
Spin what? (Grah) Spin who? (Grah)
Oh, I forgot we smokin' Boomer too (Boomer)
Met a little baddie, she shakin' the room (Grah-grah)
She gon shoot if I tell her to shoot (Like)
She get neaky (Neaky), she get naughty
She up the beam right up under the .40 (40)
I don't care, if it's up then it's stuck
Everything dead, bitch we don't give a fuck (Like)
Sha Gz, when I spin through just duck
Aim for his dreads, hollow hit, he was slumped
Grah
That's facts, we made it
All them other pussy niggas baited
I was grindin' while them niggas hated
Big Die Gzz, now look at they faces
Now I'm rich, now I'm lit
Carry my knocks 'cause I'm still on that shit
Try to run up, and get turned to a spliff
PJ be drivin', but still tryna hop out the whip
Got the drop so we gotta go blitz
Brodie on point and he still tryna catch him a rip
Mori Blixk, don't forget you a faggot (Faggot)
Catch Kha, that's a Brooklyn basket (Grah-grah)
Like who savage?
Matt Sav, he got put in a package
If it's Fifth to the Sev, let 'em have it (Have it)
Ayo Nesty, go and get you a ratchet (Bitch)
Or the Gates gon' be carryin' your caskets
Once again we don't fuck with no flockas (Grah-grah)
Trynna up it, change a nigga roster (Roster)
Wearin' Amiri denims like the shotter (Grah-glah)
You can't spin through my block you impostor (Bitch)
Lefty throwin' shots, it's hot as lava (Lava)
I was laughin' when that boy was lackin'
Catch lil leeky, we gon' end up clappin'
OGE, yeah we blitzin' like it's Madden
Spin the 8, we tryna catch Assassin (Bitch)
Spin what? (Grah) Spin who? (Grah)
Oh, I forgot we smokin' Boomer too (Boomer)
I was grindin' while them niggas hated
Big Die Gzz, now look at they faces
Now I'm rich, now I'm lit
Carry my knocks 'cause I'm still on that shit
Try to run up and get turned into a spliff
PJ be drivin' but still tryna hop out the whip
Credits
Writer(s): Paul Johnson, Perry Chalim
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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