OG Bobby Johnson, OG Bobby Johnson
OG Bobby Johnson, OG Bobby Johnson

Word on the street I’m a suspect
Hanging with the killers in the projects
I don’t wanna bale, keep quiet, catch a nigga slipping from behind
OG Bobby Johnson, OG Bobby Johnson
OG Bobby Johnson, OG Bobby Johnson

Ok, we started catching felonies and bank here
Riding through the hood in a hot box
In ’96, in the hood, had a trap house
Every day cruise through the city, crack rock
I got pills in my pocket and a bank roll
Everybody try me, I don’t let the thing go, bust it
I put a whole crew where you can’t go, cousin
Homie don’t like it but he can’t do nothing
Came through busting, I respect that
You violate a mandatory nigga, break that
Walk up, pull out a Smith and Wesson, push it real bad
Now the undercover people left for dead
They came with the OG’s hanging, OZ’s hanging
Styrofoam, double cup, codeine drinking
You run up 44 B banking, meet you at the crossroad where they don’t be singing

Word on the street I’m a suspect
Hanging with the killers in the projects
I don’t wanna bale, keep quiet, catch a nigga slipping from behind
OG Bobby Johnson, OG Bobby Johnson
OG Bobby Johnson, OG Bobby Johnson