[Chorus 2x] Somethin bout the goldie in me Somethin bout an oakland mack When I hear this song It makes an o.g. feel phat
[Verse 1; Hammer] Somethin bout the goldie in me That makes me laugh at these wannabes Cause they been watchin too much tv Rambo and clint eastwood got ya trippin But the goldie in me, Keeps me thinkin bout my group and never slippin In that played out tread, Cause most o.g.'s are in the pen or fresh out And when I hear rappers like you call me wack I laugh and just say over twenty million sold, Can you buy that? Yeah, Fake rappers are surreal You don't hear me though, I thought ya knew I'm a certified player, You see Cause of the girls, The girls, They love me And no matter what my critics say They all know that I'm mackin this fame Cause fools can't recognize game I refuse to be a wannabe Somethin bout the goldie in me, Yeah
Chorus 2x
[Verse 2; Hammer] Somethin bout the goldie in me, See I'm a g Hangin wit fools like Big loose, Crossecuse, And killa week Just some hard knunkleheads from the eastside Where we used to squab, Shoot em down, Collect ends, And high side and rise And get between thighs on the day to day Craps, Big bank take little bank, Were games we like to play Rollin down east 14, The brothers be trippin, They hear the cats be slippin Cause the moves be quick to zippin Pickin up freaks every other block, Wherever the ride stop The girls flock, And all the homies jock, Sock Bustas makin smart remarks, I'm quick to bust ya Never worry about my back, Because I'm rollin wit some hustlas And we don't sell, We bail Creep through the hood wit pockets fatter than the goodyear blimp Yeah, An oaktown player, G It's got to be the goldie in me
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Copy to Clipboard: [Chorus 2x] Somethin bout the goldie in me Somethin bout an oakland mack When I hear this song It makes an o.g. feel phat
[Verse 1; Hammer] Somethin bout the goldie in me That makes me laugh at these wannabes Cause they been watchin too much tv Rambo and clint eastwood got ya trippin But the goldie in me, Keeps me thinkin bout my group and never slippin In that played out tread, Cause most o.g.'s are in the pen or fresh out And when I hear rappers like you call me wack I laugh and just say over twenty million sold, Can you buy that? Yeah, Fake rappers are surreal You don't hear me though, I thought ya knew I'm a certified player, You see Cause of the girls, The girls, They love me And no matter what my critics say They all know that I'm mackin this fame Cause fools can't recognize game I refuse to be a wannabe Somethin bout the goldie in me, Yeah
Chorus 2x
[Verse 2; Hammer] Somethin bout the goldie in me, See I'm a g Hangin wit fools like Big loose, Crossecuse, And killa week Just some hard knunkleheads from the eastside Where we used to squab, Shoot em down, Collect ends, And high side and rise And get between thighs on the day to day Craps, Big bank take little bank, Were games we like to play Rollin down east 14, The brothers be trippin, They hear the cats be slippin Cause the moves be quick to zippin Pickin up freaks every other block, Wherever the ride stop The girls flock, And all the homies jock, Sock Bustas makin smart remarks, I'm quick to bust ya Never worry about my back, Because I'm rollin wit some hustlas And we don't sell, We bail Creep through the hood wit pockets fatter than the goodyear blimp Yeah, An oaktown player, G It's got to be the goldie in me
Chorus 2x
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