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letra de o.g. - cale charles

hook x1:
d-mn, i miss the whip game, big frames, drip paint, on god
this ain’t no mixed drank, this pain–on ice
cl!ck-clank, zip stank, big dank–on fire
cl!ck-clank, zip stank, big dank–on god

verse 1:
she wanna roll biscotti. that’s exotic, hoe. i got it though
this crown, this bacardi got me wilding–rolling chronic dope
for chickens in my oven, wanna lay dozens for my dollars, dough
don’t check on, i do not call on, i do not govern, i do not follow hoes
i am not undercover; i’m undiscovered by you commoners
i’mma need all of my commas, all of my guala up in my wallet, purse
every jinkies i holler, penny i garner make them hoes swallow girth
i’m polished; worth it all. admittedly get violent when the verse involved. but f-ck it
i was birthed in the jaws, submerged in the dark , covered in the smog. but word travels far
and now i got bodies and knowledge, and not a single apology for emerging a dog
you should know that this is history, n-gga. (jinkies! how?)
cuz it ain’t never been no mother f-cking mystery, n-gga (yikes!)

[hook] x2

bride (x2):
on ma, on god
i need my whip on frost
blow weed in this hotbox
i might re-up when i park
verse 2:
‘66 chevrolet chevelle–on swell
that’s spiffy-kicks. no cabernet; this is swill–by the well
look, i don’t p-ssyfoot; i just whip and cook, cuz my outlook is on l
police acting up and i’m black as f-ck. if they wet me up, they won’t tell..

[hook] x1

- cale charles

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