Oh Shit!!! - Injury Reserve

I say this ain’t jazz-rap, this that, this that spazz-rap

This that raised-by-the-internet, ain’t-had-no-dad rap

Yo, I’m good—don't pass that, hit me on my Snapchat

You might have to back-back, 'cause your shit is mad-wack

This that eeny-meeny-miney-moe, might need some Snapcash

Matter fact, hit the liquor store, might need some cash back

Grab some gum and some water, yeah, them chips, yeah, grab that

Watch your son and your daughter 'cause them pigs’ll snatch that

'Cause they always try to box us in, but we won’t have that

I’m a sleeper, Dennis Rodman, so watch the glass jack

Remember when I had a composition in the backpack

Now we killin' with the composition like the Rat Pack

I say this ain’t jazz-rap, this that, this that spazz-rap

This that raised-by-the-internet, ain’t-had-no-dad rap

Yo, I’m good—don't pass that, hit me on my Snapchat

You might have to back-back 'cause your shit is mad-wack

«Oh, shit!»

(Oh, shit!)

They said, «Man, we want some more hits» (S'more hits!)

«Man, this sound like some shit from '06″ ('06!)

„What that sound like, man—that's some cold shit“ (Cold shit!)

I said—"Oh, shit!»

(Oh, shit!)

«Awww, so you want some more hits?»

(S'more hits!)

«This ain’t sound like some shit from '06» (From '06!)

«Fuck what it sound like, man—that some cold shit» (Cold shit!)

This the type shit I used to ride with Tegole in his Chevy to

'06, back when I supposed to graduate from school

Remember momma told me that I need to get my act together

10 years passed, the only difference is I’m rapping better

Copped my own swishers, shoulder-tapping for them bottles now

'less I’m with my big brother, Chuckie used to hold it down

Now that shit is popping, fake homies want to come around

And they say I changed, they just mad 'cause I’m stunting now

Got you like «Oh Shit!»

And this the type of beat that make me drink a whole fifth

And this is how we doin', word to the old fifth

And you know everything we drop, that’s some cold shit, cold shit, yeah

This ain’t jazz rap, this that, this that Dad rap

This that fuck my nine to five I’m leaving, never coming back

I’m too good at rap, jack, to get caught in rat traps

If your shit is mad wack, homie you can have that, have that

«Oh, shit!»

(Oh, shit!)

They said, «Man, we want some more hits» (S'more hits!)

«Man, this sound like some shit from '06″ ('06!)

„What that sound like, man—that's some cold shit“ (Cold shit!)

I said—"Oh, shit!»

(Oh, shit!)

«Awww, so you want some more hits?»

(S'more hits!)

«This ain’t sound like some shit from '06» (From '06!)

«Fuck what it sound like, man—that some cold shit» (Cold shit!)

On and on and on

Play my favorite song

Make me dance all night

Baby, you do it right

Woah