Oops Upside Your Head (feat. Steele)

Sean Price

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    [Sean Price:]
    Aiyyo
    Yeah, oops upside your head
    You wear a suit and a tie when you dead, you might see me
    in the streets doin crazy stuff
    Why? This rap shit don't pay enough
    No joke I'm serious, the God spit bodies that's furious
    Y'all niggaz is funny style, Eddie Murphy, "Delirious"
    Me? I'm straight like 9:15
    Two spliffs of the green, now my eyes Chinese
    Add on, multiply, let's divide this cream
    One for you... one for me
    Two for you... one-two for me (yo what the fuck?)

    Yeah sanitation, I said sanitarium
    Niggaz is clowns and found ground in aquariums
    You motherfuckers sleep with the fishes
    I'm at your spot tryin to sleep wit'cha bitches, listen
    You rap like P, don't rap like P
    Back smack a rapper backwards for tryin to act like me
    I'm, one of a kind, I'm second to none
    If my, record ain't spun I network with some guns
    Call dude at the radio, listen could you play me yo?
    Yeah I'ma play it, he ain't play it but he played me though
    Next week I saw him at a party tryin to wave hello
    Smacked him in the face with the 8, I'm tryin to break his nose
    Motherfucker~!

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    [Steele:]
    Look, man, you must be out your God damn mind
    It don't make sense if I don't make a God damn dime
    Now why, you think I'm out here on this God damn grind
    And won't resign 'til I reside in a fox that's fine
    I'm, like Criss "Mindfreak," abracadabra
    Nigga my nine speak, your rhymes weak and need Viagra
    Most rappers ain't that nice, your rap ain't real
    You can't, be like Sean Price, can't do like Steele, f'real
    And I don't mean to be facetious
    It's genius to have the God on the track with Jesus
    Y'all dudes fucked up, your flows pathetic
    The 8 set it, push up on niggaz like calisthenics
    We, wild and wreckless, the style's perfected
    Don't wanna see me at your desk with scare like "Where the check is?"
    This biz just gon' have this kid lose his religion
    Pop a few Gods, do twenty-five to lives in prison

    (Damn, that's fucked up man)

    Song details

    Composition: D. Yates Jr.

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