Big Ole - Obn Jay, JayDaYoungan

Big old checks comin' straight through the mail

Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs

OBN, yeah

Big old checks comin' straight through the mail

Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs

Go make a deposit to throw in the air

I’m a real nigga, put that in the air

Go shoppin' for nothin', my bitch in Chanel

Sauce on my ass, check out my underwear

Crossin' Lil Jay, that shit there a lil' rare

You say that it’s smoke, so what up?

What the deal?

Pull up, you know that that banger with me

Trap niggas really be hangin' with me

While I’m chasin' that bread, I be duckin' the heat

'Cause you bitches gon' die if you fuckin' with me

Tryna get me a bag 'fore I’m stuck in the streets

Climbin' straight up but I ain’t touch the peak

Bae, you can ask for whatever you need

Float under ten with a Glock on the seat

All the ratchets excited, just heard I’m in town

Bitch, you need to go sit down

All the shit that I got, I got that on my own

But you look like you a lil' clone

Got them racks in my ear like I picked up the phone

In the back of the club and I’m sippin' on chrome

Thirty-eight in my shoe, I’m performin' my song

I don’t need security, I got my own

I been on the road tryna chase sacks

And I can’t let, flex bad nigga, take, take, take that

Still clutchin' burners on the road, can’t go Hollywood

Got enough time for to make another sack

And I’m still that same nigga, OBN, yeah yeah yeah yeah

Bitch, you know I’m clutchin' F&N's, got one in the head

Bare face, no mask, run in the stash

Was broke as a bitch, I done got off my ass

His partner a rat but he don’t get a pass

If I love you just know that I’m gon' give my last

Never gon' listen, throw the thoughts in the trash

Pushin' the foreign, I swear that bitch fast

I flexed up, next up

I know that they hatin', I got these niggas a lil' mad

Big old checks comin' straight through the mail

Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs

Go make a deposit to throw in the air

I’m a real nigga, put that in the air

Go shoppin' for nothin', my bitch in Chanel

Sauce on my ass, check out my underwear

Crossin' Lil Jay, that shit there a lil' rare

You say that it’s smoke, so what up?

What the deal?

Pull up, you know that that banger with me

Trap niggas really be hangin' with me

While I’m chasin' that bread, I be duckin' the heat

'Cause you bitches gon' die if you fuckin' with me

Tryna get me a bag 'fore I’m stuck in the streets

Climbin' straight up but I ain’t touch the peak

Bae, you can ask for whatever you need

Float under ten with a Glock on the seat

Fuck you if you ain’t on my team

Fuck with me and, bitch, you gon' bleed

These niggas ain’t real, shit, that’s what I believe

That lil' ho ain’t shit, no she ain’t what I need

Clutch sticks every day of the week

Too much goin' on so I stay with that heat

They know what I’m on, bitch, I stay in the streets

Put me on a song, put his face on a tee

I got a big check waitin' for me

Go pick up the bag, I don’t like meet and greets

They say they want beef, I ain’t lookin' for peace

We gon' hop out with heat, put that bitch straight to sleep

Got tats on my face and my neck what I bleed

Bitch I mean what I say and I say what I mean

The reaper on side me, I barely can sleep

They talkin' 'bout money but broke, I can see

Hop out a coupe, got two doors

These niggas be pussy like two hoes, yeah

Sports only, no cruise mode

Sippin' on mud so a young nigga move slow

Ice on me, I’m too cold

Johnny Dang flooded my mouth, my tooth froze

Buy one, get two more

Bitches be catchin' them plays like Julio

Big old checks comin' straight through the mail

Big old Glock sittin' under the stairs

Go make a deposit to throw in the air

I’m a real nigga, put that in the air

Go shoppin' for nothin', my bitch in Chanel

Sauce on my ass, check out my underwear

Crossin' Lil Jay, that shit there a lil' rare

You say that it’s smoke, so what up?

What the deal?

Pull up, you know that that banger with me

Trap niggas really be hangin' with me

While I’m chasin' that bread, I be duckin' the heat

'Cause you bitches gon' die if you fuckin' with me

Tryna get me a bag 'fore I’m stuck in the streets

Climbin' straight up but I ain’t touch the peak

Bae, you can ask for whatever you need

Float under ten with a Glock on the seat

Big old checks comin' straight through the mail

They comin' straight through the, uh

Big blue hundreds comin' straight through the mail

They comin' straight through the, uh

Try to come jack and I’m goin' to jail

Swear that I’m goin'

Try to come jack and I’m goin' to jail

Swear that I’m go-oh-oin'

Da-da-da-da

Da-da-da, oh whoa-oh