Our Thing lyrics by Ghetto Commission - original song full text. Official Our Thing lyrics, 2024 version | LyricsMode.com
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Ghetto Commission – Our Thing lyrics
Featuring Mac Magic QB

[Ghetto Commission]
I'm from the dirty south where niggas go to prison just by word of mouth
Slangin quarter keys to make them G's is what it's all about
I was brought up in the city of ????
Had nerve with that nigga Pepper
That's you gots to put pressure on me to make it so they test ya
I used to hang across that water
That mighty nine another second
While loungin in the club I pack a stunt nose Smith n Wesson
Fuckin hoes, split the blunts and optimos, that's a war
These niggas out chea cut throat, so the crime rate never falling
It's a swamp nigga, we all ghost fuckin riders as we stunt niggas
That scrappin shit ain't happenin see you dead if yous a punk nigga
We floss around in Lexuses, from the boot to Houston, Texas
Any ??? that disrespect us recieve a slug clean through thier vest

I'm from where niggas end up lookin like funnels
when they crossin my tunnel
Left them bloody puddles, so ???? represent my jungle
The bricks bitch, my rad row where we ride slow
Go to war with Calicos, sendin niggas to thier burial
I'm tellin ya niggas'll be smellin ya, back at the canal
Niggas know we living foul with televised murder trials
We hustle, duckin JP in laced up brees
White T's, we keep our rocks the same place we keep our D
We meet at club James, known for blood stains
Niggas stay in front of teeners get caught up in the game
Lickin shots all over the place, shots on Wayms and DeVilla
Betty street, Garden road, Westbank, home of killers

[Mac]
From the eastbank to the westbank, it's our thing
From the third ward to the ninth ward, it's our thing
It's a N.O. thing, an N.O. thing, an N.O. thing
Throw your hood up and claim nigga, it's an N.O. thing

[Ghetto Commission]
Let me tell you about them boys in the fifteenth ward
look they ain't playin
Any altercation with the enemy in they vicinity, they sprayin
When you see them niggas with the white hankerchiefs
You get to the land of the lost
Cause these niggas bout they paper, bout they come up at any cost
Many niggas done got killed on the battlefield over Clintonfield
Yall aint even got to front, if these twisted for arms soldiers real
They knockin nuts off back in the cutoff, them niggas bout it too
You doubt it, call session, you could be another bloody body too
If I was you I'd keep my tools livin around them vicious fools
Darkside, lightside, boatside, fuck homocide rules
Them boys over the hump poppin trunks if you gettin outta line
Hells yeah, niggas packin that nine, respect our fuckin mind

[Magic]
Now all you hear is ninth ward this, nigga ninth ward that
It's Mr. Magic, puttin my fuckin hood on the map
You wanna die motherfuckers cause you're fuckin with G's
You dig your own fuckin grave when your fuckin with these
So where my niggas at, throw your fuckin nine in the air
Respect my nine, I represent it like I just don't care
Desire and galvant, nigga don't fiend and flood
Be the only motherfuckers ever show me love
It's cause of me ninth ward comin up like a storm
So when you see me identify me by the nine on my arm
And if I die motherfuckers better sound the alarm
City under siege, Clinton couldn't stop this bomb

[QB]
Fuck with us you gettin slapped, only way survive the gun jam
Third ward, Parkway, Allaway, AK spray, now tell me who's the man
The click I roll with will leave you in the basement
Call your mama, tell her make a replacement
This nine must she waste it
No years I be facing in the crescent
Tryin to teach an adolescent, fuck them niggas I'm suggesting
You keep your mouth closed before your body wired with holes
Exploding blows, with blood all over your clothes

[Mac]
Check it
I'm camoflauged motherfucker, I bust em till they click
I make moves and keep these boss bitches up on my dick
Been camoflauge but ever since a young buck
I hit the scene like nigga what, do anybody wanna fuck
With this murda murda killer, blood spiller with rhyme
Or I cut your life short like my part in the last don
So much of a soldier even drove a tank to my prom
Affiliated with crime like you affiliated with moms
Nigga
That's it
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Lyrics taken from /lyrics/g/ghetto_commission/our_thing.html

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Songwriters: AWOOD JOHNSON, BYRON DOLLIOLE, CRAIG BAZILE, DWAYNE LAWRENCE, GARY ARNOLD, MCKINLEY JR PHIPPS, QB, WALTER VALERIO
Our Thing lyrics © Ultra Tunes

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