Bonafied O.C. (Ft. JAY-Z)

[Verse 1: O.C.]
Yo, fuck having
My neck dripped with jewels that don’t mean shit
This man behind this rhyme is the nigga that’s slick, licking
My thumbs, counting papers from my street-smart wigs. In the
Club, we hug, foes taking some flick, pushing
The same whips niggas got with platinum stacks. Two LPs
Far from gold, yo, people think I’m selling cracks—nah!
They see me living with a smile on my face, and if
You see me in the spot, I’m down low in the place, sipping
My liquor, Remi Martin running through my liver
Sucking on lemon peels, them shits tastes bitter, having fun
For that particular time and date. I feel
I’m almost to the point, so I calmly skate. Fuck all
The broads, fuck all the cats who applaud my name who wouldn’t
Give me no love if I wasn’t in the game. I’m
Full of surprises, analyze the all-wise
Good Cartiers protect my eyes when I’m dipping
On the BQ, my Benz see-through—fuck tints
I’m live, nigga, and so is my people
Half of me is godly, the other half is evil, so if it
Comes down to it, I’m strapped if we do it. You feel me?

[Hook: Jay-Z]
Love is life and life is love
Real live niggas and bona fide thugs
Career criminals with ice-grilled mugs
Not afraid to shed blood, to bleed. I believe because
Love is life and life is love
Real live niggas and bona fide thugs
Career criminals with ice-grilled mugs
Not afraid to shed blood, to bleed. I believe