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Lyrics of a song Obie Trice - Cheers

>> LYRICS >> LYRICS o >> Obie Trice >>
Alba s touto skladbou: We Are The Problem,

[Talking in Intro]
Whiling mutha fuckers man,
Lou Green,
Sean Stringer,
Keith Stringer,
Lewan Youserf,
Lil' Randy,
Dat's what i'm doing this for man.

[Talking]
Yeah.
We aint here to mourn.
We here to celebrate.
So this one is for all my doggs that didn’t make it in the struggle man.

[Verse 1]
I remember when I was on the ave clutchin them dimes,
Gun touchin my spine, bustin my rhymes,
Feelin like im livin in them lost times.
No sight of the future, damn right ill shoot ya,
Palm tight on the rooster.
Old in the face cuz this hoe on my case got my growth at a fast pace.
Old folks like Obie, oh he’s bad case,
He wont last, his track record will do the math.
Crack solicitation on the avenue is not new to ya listeners but this is true, listen up,
I gotta spew it and keep it all truth or else I might as well give this up.
Feel me now, from rocks to pow-pows, glocks to powder.
I done did it all so I clutch my balls and notice they still here,
So Obie is still here,
So Kobe, here’s to you with daddy’s new career,

[Chorus]
So grab ya cups of beer,
And put em up let’s cheer,
Here’s a toast to all my souljas who aint here,
This is it my niggas, this what we boast about,
Get ya bottles homie pour some out.

Now grab ya cups of gin,
And put em up let’s win,
Here’s a toast to never lookin back again,
This is it my niggas, this what we boast about,
Get ya bottles homie pour some out.

[Verse 2]
Now I understand that every man got a story to tell,
Well fuck it I got a story as well.
Growin up where us niggas either buried or jailed,
Popped by dirty Harry or popped by the cops for the yayo.
Locked in a cell, who’s to blame,
When I was raised in this hood where my crew was slain,
Only a few remains.
Uo talk about struggle,
With your bubble gum lifestyles nigga fuck you.
I’m here today for fam passed away,
Bodies deep six nigga flesh decayed.
Real cats who had tecs to spray,
Babies to raise, missed them cradles went strait to the grave.
That hood life is in me,
So I sip the remmie while my pockets scream gimme.
Lend me your ear, I’m guaranteeing yall feelin me,
Strait from the block to the industry,

[Chorus]
So grab ya cups of beer,
And put em up let’s cheer,
Here’s a toast to all my souljas who aint here,
This is it my niggas, this what we boast about,
Get ya bottles homie pour some out.

Now grab ya cups of gin,
And put em up let’s win,
Here’s a toast to never lookin back again,
This is it my niggas, this what we boast about,
Get ya bottles homie pour some out.

Yeah!
All my homies that’s deceased rest in peace,
My nigga camski,
Lil' green,
P Funk you’ll be home in a minute nigga,
Haha, we get it poppin,
Got a chance to speak to the world nigga,
And I aint stopping,
Strait off the crack,
3-1-3.


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