Oh! Obie Trice (Ft. Busta Rhymes)

[Verse 1: Obie Trice]
Yeah
Obie Trice, real name, no gimmicks
I came in the game profane, no image
I came in the game with a name I was given
From a mane who ain't give a fuck about his child—ren
I proclaim the name, though
Never in vain, no, watch the change grow
A young nigga who done gained from fame, copped the Range Ro'
Now they want my brains on the main road
But they don't understand what I came for
How I came forth with a million sold
Who say you can't grow from mildew and mold?
Get money like Ross Perot
I'm often told, a coffin's the routes I go
"Oh, that's the road you on, oh no"
I'm down for the rightful tone of fo' fo'
Don't ever try to send a nigga home, no no
I know you wanna catch me at Sunoco
Show me that you're loco, put holes in my photo
Nope! Ob'
Hold toast, no jokes, send slugs through your Polo
Just cause 'O' a thug, roll solo
Impose on grown folk, be a cold negro
Be-low, your grieved up people
Believe that the boy see no evil