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ohsh - jean grae & quelle chris lyrics

[intro: hannibal buress]
ooh sh-t

[verse 1: quelle chris]
ooh, yeah
all-star big boy with the b-tter doug prishpeed
tryna snag a bag the size of chris christie
we come through snappin’ ya city’s a wrap big leslie
we show up and show out like eddie snappin’ on reggie
chill, but chill don’t make me bust off your headpiece
strange, style is -ss, ya fans is g-string
can’t beat ’em then join ’em, your stance is weakling
the b-ss f-ck up your face and it ain’t the weeknd
fans beg him to leak the new heat like trump staff, daft
deep in the bloodline like bubba with shrimp
travelin’ man that plans to go out with a gump past
make your radio sign up for tinder and swipe right
’cause i’m the stereotype of n-ggas who run fast
got hate on your plate and loss in your lunchbag
your whole album need savin’, my feature’s a must-have
ya engineer be like rock on the clock ’cause he dumps trash
whoever said that it ain’t been done don’t know i did it
been doin’ it since n-gga’s fitted caps wasn’t fitted
all that and a sack of snacks with the sammiches
smoke it like tatsu with the foot ninja vanishin’
big noggin, colorful paper my peoples is handlin’
king of the rings, sting with aluminum bats sh-t
and if they claim they do what i’m doin’, they batsh-t
like f-ck you and every n-gga you ever rapped with
i got money on me, gettin’ money somethin’ reckless
that’s an investment
them vibe n-ggas no jive, now that’s a collective
all in all, even my flaws is impressive
they call it complex, i call ’em ol’ common b-tches
with collars on necks
it’s calling vs. text, you heard the inflection
bredren, the message ain’t mixed
you know what i meant, i said what i meant, i meant it

[hook: quelle chris + sample]
oh, (“sh-t”)
oh, (“sh-t”)
oh, (“sh-t”)
it’s for my dummies who front like they know (“sh-t”)
my wise heads still grindin’ to grow (“sh-t”)
oh shh—, oh (“sh-t”)
oh, (“sh-t”)
oh, (“sh-t”)
it’s for my honeys with money that own (“sh-t”)
my blowed n-ggas, get money and grow (“sh-t”)
oh

[verse 2: hannibal buress]
i ain’t got no fur coat, but i got a book bag full of merlot
i’m lyin, i ain’t go no f-ckin’ merlot
i drink whiskey, but i do want a fur coat
this sh-t is trippy
what? just in the bar, spittin’ bars at the bar
go to the bathroom, take a sh-t, then i hop in a uber car
too bizarre, you know who you are
you should get hit by a moving car
your stupid broads make me too exhausted
what’s going on, are you r-t-rded?
i’m not r-t-rded, is that your father?
a tragic liar? is that designer, is that a fire?
remember mya?
i’m awkward with chopsticks, i’m like

[verse 3: jean grae]
sh-t, f-ckin’ right, flame on
phoenix crush ya whole groove, rae dawn
get 86’d, radon
first, gimme ya love, barry, faison
it’s the real serenade, swan song
facepalm, scheherazade, but i k!lled the king on day one
heritage, part asian
smackin’ merit badges off ya body with a baseball bat
stay strong! n-ggas act like i’m elusive and medusa
clueless as they never knew there was a man with luther, stupid
avon like slayage from door to door
but they ignore for more dumb sh-t, the gall
from charles de gaulle to y’all’s bar, biatch
large halls, small sp-ces like fiats
your b-lls and malt b-lls, same scale
my guffaws at your barrage of all-star false grails
it’s loud and obnoxious like there’s noxious gases in the air
collins, i’m indiana on columns
cares? don’t got ’em, sh-t, what for nada
nothing’s a problem, ‘less your face is not in gutter
you’re trash, sh-t!

[outro: samples]
“hahahaha”
“everything’s fine”
“doctor?”
“everything’s fine”
“doctor? doctor?”

- jean grae quelle chris lyrics

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