Lyrics:

Yeah
Come on
Get the fuck
Get up, get up
Get the - up, -
Ay, yo, when I step up in the bar everybody hit the - floor
Lucky mother-, make it to the door
'Cause when I spit on mics, I spit raw
Which cause confusion from the bar to the dance floor (aah!)
I keep the club owner vexed
'Cause he gotta pay me when I spit, plus replace a lotta -
- get to wildin'
When my words echoes the room like (get your hand out my pockets)
You sock - while my topics rockin'
I'm banned from clubs 'cause of my toxic tonsils
Loud speakin' like a - sports announcer
I spit the Blaha 'til you rush the bouncer
Or rush the mother-, in your way, who's bouncin'
You know, O. Trice gets the - pronouncin'
Get live mother-, when I speak mother-
Out your seat mother-, I'ma reach mother-
Shady Records 'til I sleep, mother-
Obie Trice, nothin' but street, mother-
Tear this - up until you bleed, mother-
I wouldn't give a - who you be, mother-
Adrenaline rush before you leave, mother-
When I speak I blow out your tweeters, a dog
Show out with speakers, roll out with -
I'm just an animal eatin' the game
Jump a monkey, fuck yeah, Obie's the name (ah)
I roll solo, never been a -, though
Keep - vocal when cats act loco
Where you at when I'm movin' the crowd?
You get trampled, mashed on Detroit style (watch out, watch out, watch out)
Up out your seats, pump out the Es
Up the beats, the crowd 'Obie, please'
Where my -?
Off the cognac -
That's how it is when you party with me
You don't like it? You L7 like a square be
Get live mother-, when I speak mother-
Out your seat mother-, I'ma reach mother-
Shady Records 'til I sleep, mother-
Obie Trice, nothing but street, mother-
Tear this - up until you bleed, mother-
I wouldn't give a - who you be, mother-
Adrenaline rush before you leave, mother- (yo, yo, yo)
Since I came, I've rearranged the place with blaze
Stage dive with Colt Seavers, DNA
I'm so addicted to gettin' - lifted
Drunk off the liquid, O. Trice, the misfit (aw)
Dousin' the crowd with piss and bile
We underground, mother-, fix your frowns (ha-ha)
I be the boy with the whiskey toy
Offa whiskey, you never been to skeet before
So, throw up your hands and peep out your man's
When I come through, next quarter Trice at your venues
And trust, I'm attackin' it
I cook up the hot - like Ainsley Harriott (ha)
That's why I'm so miraculous and Obie gets you - pumped up (yeah)
I'll see you next coliseum, chump
That's right, look up to Obie Trice - (grow weed)
Get live mother-, when I speak mother-
Out your seat mother-, I'ma reach mother-
Shady Records 'til I sleep, mother-
Obie Trice, nothin' but street, mother-
Tear this - up until you bleed, mother-
I wouldn't give a - who you be, mother-
Adrenaline rush before you leave, mother-