Clap - Mr. Green, Apollo The Great, ESPIRITO ANDINO

I wanted to be just like my big homie OJ

Instead of going to college four years I cooked the 4 way

King of the underground with no radio, pushing, no play

Still got plenty of smokers and geekers up in my doorway

Mama I’m gonna do it, dropping the to it

Poison in my two litter, im posted with my two heaters

I know that my enemies pray I get smoked for this golden

Father please forgive me I done left niggas no longer breathing

Broke, blind and crippled, tuned up in

Nothing but murder on my mind but my bottom line’s the issue

Girl don’t hug and kiss you, saying you need some rehab

Serve the chronic, make me an addict

Guess I’ma be that nigga until my heart don’t tick

Yeah, the Indiana Godfather, Eastside bitch

All is well when I bail, slang and bang 'til they tag my toe

I let my nuts drag down to the floor, gangsta Gibbs baby, uh

And if you don’t know, now you know, nigga

Everybody clap your hands, go, go, go

Everybody clap your hands, go, go, go, go, go, go

Uh, plans to be the greatest, I *hok to* spit in the faces of those they hold

sacred, call them over rated

Haters looking at me sideways like I voted Reagen

Screaming «bro!»

but there’s no relation, your flow is basic

Grind and tired of waiting boosted up on that donorslist

Been over patients, now how sick is that

Mister Green on the track, I Jack the Rip for that

Philly on my shoulders like Iverson had the Sixers back

In them early double 0s, travel where trouble goes

Landed at O Jays, cautious of undercover foes

The backstabbers, they smile in your face

Cards revealed they yell «Sorry!», move you out of your space

It ain’t a game though, well, at least that’s how the saying go

Bottles to the face, pour a little for the slain though

On the road to the riches, tinted Durango

Won’t park 'til the sun sets, no Drain-no, go

Everybody clap your hands, go, go, go

Everybody clap your hands, go, go, go, go, go, go

Uh, I wanted to be just like my big cousin Chad

He took a few shoots, thought he was 2Pac but didn’t rap

Showed me what it was to be in a trap

Start with nothing turn it into a step

Cooking crack, well feeling that

Looking back, yo I needed that

The reason that these youngings is cold red

Cause they ain’t got official ohead

Mine was, conduct, my father figured dropping juice on me

I’m more advanced than a lot of niggas

Thoroughbred mentality, if men challange me Guaranteed that end violently,

then silently

Talk to pigs, that’s a no-no

Offical like the polo with the little logo

Do my dirt all by my dolo

Now yo yo, waddup yo?

Niggas is cutthroat, murder for anything but those scandalous slut hoes

The streets flood of the drug sold to the snub nose

Niggas fronting in the front, shots ringing when the club close