Og Bobby Johnson (remix) Lyrics - Singles - Que

Word on the street I'm a suspect 

Hangin' with the killers in the projects 

Potato on the barrel keep quiet 

Catch a nigga slippin' from behind 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

I'm still hanging with them killers and them convicts 

Push start, no key, don't need a locksmith 

Pop shit, split your top lift 

Chop sticks, still knock a nigga right up out his rocksmith 

O.G. Bobby Johnson - catch a nigga slipping while he joggin' 

Tater on the end of the Ruger 

Bottom of the stick hangin' out there; Mr. Cooper 

Word on the street, your son, he's a thief 

Your partner got him stealing radios every week 

Told you once jealousy, that's a bitch nigga trait 

Better keep the grass cut, so you can watch out for the snakes 

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Word on the street I'm a suspect 

Hangin' with the killers in the projects 

Potato on the barrel keep quiet 

Catch a nigga slippin' from behind 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

Jumped out of bed with a bitch 

Right hand on my heat, left hand on my dick 

Sea salt, he robbed than a motherfucker 

OG Bobby Johnson? Nah, nigga, never love him 

OG LB City is the town 

Run up, get gunned down 

Nigga, we don't fuck around 

Ask Ray-Ray, Jay-Jay and Kay-Kay 

Shot a nigga in the daytime with the AK 

Nigga ain't even on the run, get loose 

Turn stick, quick tip, bang mine with the deuce, what it do? 

All my niggas is realer 

But Bobby Johnson is a bonafide killer 

Mama was a ho, step-daddy was a dealer 

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Yellow brick motherfucking Pittsburgh Steeler 

Nigga? nigga, better raise up 

Dip my stick, nigga, when I blaze up 

A's up, K's up 

I'm from the dub where the homies say trey's up 

I am cripping with the niggas in the projects 

Goin' down where the homie sell the bomb at 

And don't get caught out of bounds 

We get touchdown, shut down, nigga get cut down 

Real game, kill game 

Bobby Johnson, that's my motherfucking real name, deuce 

Just got off a call with the homie Gino 

That's my manager, he be really boosting my ego (hello) 

Said "you crack, nigga, and every line is a kilo"' 

I said "stop playing, stop drinking the Clicquot" 

Stay out them bars, nigga 

But really I could kill them with these bars, nigga 

Really give them stars, nigga 

I chips on the tooth like Nas, nigga 

Make me spit cold verses too, all these odd niggas 

But 50 my favorite rapper, he got shot 

8 bullets like Leroy and then he got hot 

I feel bad, I met 'Premo before he got knocked 

Cop 4 jackets right out of my pop spot 

That Ferg apparel, this life will lay down 

Cee-Lo with grown ups stacking a Burrough 

I can talk about my life, but that ain't the hour 

Rather Shabba Ranks with a skank and skeet in her mouth 

My daddy in heaven, I try to keep him smilin' 

And take his little brother out to eat Italian 

That's my big uncle T Ferg, used to be wildin' 

But now he getting rapper money, he should be proud of him 

I got a thing for dark skin and big booties 

Just got into model girls, some slim cuties 

I'll fuck ya industry bitches, say I did it 

Piece of pie, but industry bitches really with it 

Sha-Shabba Ranks, Sha-Sha-Shabba Ranks 

Trying to hop a model chick, probably Tyra Banks 

Put the potato on the hammer, let it bang 

Cause I'm OG Bobby Johnson, A$AP Mob be the gang 

Word on the street I'm a suspect 

Hangin' with the killers in the projects 

Potato on the barrel keep quiet 

Catch a nigga slippin' from behind 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

OG like it's South Central 

Nigga had a brick in a rental 

Since I ain't dead or in jail from it 

Put my life in this instrumental 

(OG Bobby Johnson) like I'm straight out of Compton 

See my boys in the hood, we a menace, it's a problem 

Nigga only know about a kilogram 

Old school, I could just kill a man 

Kids running up to my old school 

Get a hundred dollars from the dealer man 

I ain't gotta lie in my music 

Give you game, teach you how to use it 

If he ain't trying to help you come up 

Leave his broke ass suck a new dick 

My numbers don't lie when the feds taking score 

Cellphone in my name, that's it, nothing more 

458 in the driveway 

Niggas can't see me on the highway 

Got the house sitting on the water 

Pulling up looking like Somali's 

I heard one time from a rich nigga 

These niggas' hoes like a bitch nigga 

Like the last song on my album 

Stay the fuck away from a snitch nigga 

Word on the street I'm a suspect 

Hangin' with the killers in the projects 

Potato on the barrel keep quiet 

Catch a nigga slippin' from behind 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson! 

O.G. Bobby Johnson!