Информация о песне На данной странице вы можете ознакомиться с текстом песни Ore-Ore-O, исполнителя - Ali.
Дата выпуска: 28.03.2007
Возрастные ограничения: 18+
Язык песни: Английский
Ore-Ore-O |
(Ali) |
C’mon, oooooooooooooooooooh, no, yo |
(Just the north, south, east, west coast and us) |
Hey, uh, it’s Lee I’m amazin', original Asian |
Lime blazin' hatin’ll get you nowhere, but get me Hotter than Cajun, spontaneous combustion |
My temperature’s raisin', nigga for days and days |
Minutes I was just I been waitin' |
From a shine, to reduce your regrimes |
Dimes to raisins, you talkin' |
Me? Naw naw player I’m sparklin' |
Straight up parkin', hoppin' out with a Eagle barkin' |
(Pop pop) Money, my car chop chop |
Hot spot for the jewels, man I’m keepin' the Glock |
You might get popped, I’m good ain’t no duckin' the dot |
2000 number J truck mansion and yacht (Ooooh!) |
I say like uh uh (Ooooh!) I say like uh uh Should let you know, I’ma bring it really raw |
It be like pat-b-b-b-b-b pat-b-b-b-b-b really raw |
Come again now |
(Chorus: Ali) |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
If you real, let me hear you say |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
If you all about your paper then you say |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
If you real, let me hear you say |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
(Just the north, south, east, west coast and us) |
(Ali) |
I need a trillion dollars for every breath I take |
For heaven’s sake, just to keep righteous food on my plate |
And I’m gon' get it, whether it be rap-rockin' if not |
It’s back to crack-poppin' out the back of the barbershop |
No holds barred, back streets to boulevards |
Gain way, throwin' house parties in the PJ’s |
Cars square village, love joy lane |
Buddha 88 man it’s still the same |
I can’t complain, I know niggas that lost they brain |
Got they chest removed, straight vestibules |
Don’t test a fool, who ain’t got shit to lose |
That ain’t cool, now he gotta rep off of you |
That’s why I stay to myself, stay alive and teach |
Puff that oohwee and keep the snub-nose in reach |
I ain’t a thug, so nigga I ain’t gon' start that now |
I’m Mr. Nigga that kept work and carried the four pound |
(Chorus: Ali) |
(Ali) |
You want to feel made? Roll with me for a day |
Excursion weight, absolutely splurgin' way |
Okay first, my team a hundred deep at least |
Respected highly on the street |
Cause we don’t start no beef, in the club |
Murphy suede, human grenade |
And some handmade, hide the haze |
Behind the Cartier Rolls tinted |
E’er word I speak I’m in it Hip hop; we in it, from now until infinite |
We like ten foster kids bringin' daddy business |
We turn the heat up to Tae-Bo in the club we post the Guinness |
We had the guard spook one of my gods then broke loose |
Had to buck a clown, too much Crown with no juice |
Icy noose, bluey suit outside cute |
Inside room ugly as a pea-green suit with ruffles |
We fold up chairs in a tussle |
Outside we gon' put somethin' harder than muscles |
(Chorus: Ali) |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
Hey! Hey! Ore-ore-ore-ore-o |
(Just the north, south, east, west coast and us) |