Got Hungry Songtext
von Obie Trice

Moss Production
Trice


Obie Trice got hungry, needed money to bank
Young, didn′t think my life was great
Eatin' from a saucer, ballers got big plates
Pushin′ big weight from state to state
While I'm on Section 8
And my corner got about fifty niggas on the grind chasin' the cake
So that route I can′t go
Even though we cordial, I might step on a toe, turn a friend to foe
But the thoughts didn′t exist, I'm in my room gettin′ pissed
I should have 20 inch rims on a V12 Benz
Hangin' with brand new friends
All-flavor Timbs hittin′ nothin' but skins
I gotta do somethin′ right now
Ayo, this life foul and my job just burns me out
Plus this titty bar bitch Hennessy turns me out
Stuffin' ones in the garter got my dick harder
Hard enough to plot on openin' up a spot
A big roofer rock sewin′ up the fuckin′ block
Just stop, no, that shit too hot, the cops'll watch
Plus in the hood my name′s not top notch
Niggas'll snitch or try to get me
Contemplatin′ illegal career hittin' shots off the Hennessy
In my room pacin′ like I'm facin' a life term
AIDS and job termination
I′m in my room pacin′ like I'm facin′ a life term
AIDS and job termination
Termination, termination, termination

Mr. Trice, gotta eat, starvin' like an animal
Dope get low, best eatin′
React off instinct, digest weaklings
Let you niggas know, got hungry
Takin' mine, gettin′ dust over here
I'm ready to rock, Obie Trice, we battin' down shop


Fuck it, I′ll go outside and decide what′s the deal
Walkin' up the block kickin′ rocks with no scrill
Ain't lovely, my main man P-Funk in a double-0 truck bubbly
Hunk set me, what up, black? I way back in fact
If you ever peep his wrist, thaw out to bring yourself back
Attract all bitches in Cadillac editions
While I′m in the prison with the fuckin' engine light blinkin′
You know you're stinkin'
When the same gauge light on for months
To cause another fuckin′ complication
Life got me on administration like a bitch
Player hatin′, all these niggas flossin' like they rich
I got the itch to dip right behind the bush
If I catch you slippin′, your blood gon' gush
Fuck that, fuck that, I′m not a thief
'Cause armed robbery murder cause a whole lot of grief
I′m tired of grindin' my teeth thinkin' about the dough
I′m tired of high-class bitches tellin′ me, "Fuck N.O."
N.O., N.O., N.O

Mr. Trice, gotta eat, starvin' like an animal
Dope get low, best eatin′
React off instinct, digest weaklings
Let you niggas know, got hungry
Takin' mine, gettin′ dust over here
I'm ready to rock, Obie Trice, we battin′ down shop