Oooh Real ft. Swill Gates & Naul Spits Lyrics

Ooh-ah, ooh-ah, ooh-ah

Yo, it's your boy, SW Influenza

Ready to flex my mental when I enter the center

I'm with the Spring Cherry and Pickett

Chris Wallace of the OSDN District

My hands half-matching my polo

Born dolo, died dolo

Real rap with this boom bap spittin' facts

Still active, I rap over attractive beats

Then I release them in the streets like dope

Collingwood, Rosary Cathedral, I'm the Pope

Glass City swag, stay gettin' the bag

Stay fresh to death, stay makin' the haters mad

Sad, grown lookin' up to me like that

Cause I'm on they bitch playlist, she always played it

I'm bout to give the streets a body, Juke and Famous

Hot butter, soul on the stove

Swell Gates, Glass City, I was born on North Cove

The team never, never stop

The dream, we too close

Coming up

On skill, no luck

Dope as fuck

I'm summin' up

My whole goal's to reach for a photo

Code flows, the beat got the soul glow

Let me take my gum out

The blind stares of a million pairs

I got Jordans you couldn't walk in

Patek on my wrist, ain't no time for missing fortunes

More like Smith and Wessons

When this nigga step in, what's the lesson

Ain't no nigga flyer than me

We want this section, you get sanctioned, you get mangled

Me and Swillie Thanos, little sillies ain't no way to angle

Not even think of a way you can bank on

You niggas don't hear me, you need your Raycons

We come from where you can't get on or even stay on

Listenin' to these words that I play on, I'm actin' up

Been takin' truck with the leather guts

Fuck, that's why we savin' up

See niggas where I'm from, don't see these levels

See these heights, we on a new device

It's like they see these nights

But they don't see these lights, it's sacrifice

Niggas be talkin', that shit irrelevant

People be mistaken, education for intelligence

The kettle pitch is black as levels to this shit, I'm sellin' it

We went from pedalin' to V12s, pushin' pedals in

Thanks a lot, Jerry

They don't know what to do right now

It's just like it's a

The chef's kiss

In every possible way

What the fuck

Hit the spacebar when real niggas walk in, man

Mute the television, act like I'm here

Hit the underdesk

The joy, no offense

I wish a nigga would

Cause they are funny when they fishin' in the woods

Catch me dippin' in the hood

For the bitch to look as good as mega good

And nigga, I'm good in every hood

No need to explain what's understood

No offense, M.I.B

Now your family in all black like a M.I.B

Niggas 30, I, 60, them tents I see

But if you wanna dance, I got them hands, Prince Nasheem

Bitch, I'm applyin' pressure

I'm ahead of the game, I'm lappin' you lads

Y'all runnin', still try and catch up

But I'm like years ahead of ya, set it up

Watch you get served like Federer

Lyrically, I'm better, bruh

Jesus Christ, catch me at Cheez-Its

Nice with a car full of bad bitches

We never seen in life

My jury glow, nigga, these is life

We smooth as Denzel, nigga, who need a flight

Bitch

Open your eyes, see some real niggas walkin' in

You closin' your eyes, hopin' real niggas disappear

You open and we sittin' here, this opium we spittin

You should listen here, you twitchin' like you itchin

My position is precision, yeah

Niggas look at money like religion here

You outside lookin' in, we livin' here

Yeah, gotta be cookin', yeah

I want a different kid, yeah, yeah

If I'm gonna take it there, I'm about to get the kid, yeah

Absolutely glorious

Run me back