album cover
Oh No
22.905
Em turnê
Hip-Hop/Rap
Oh No foi lançado em 1 de janeiro de 2005 por CM/Republic como parte do álbum Tha Carter II
album cover
Data de lançamento1 de janeiro de 2005
SeloCM/Republic
IdiomaEnglish
Melodicidade
Acusticidade
Valence
Dançabilidade
Energia
BPM80

Vídeo da música

Vídeo da música

Créditos

INTERPRETAÇÃO
Lil Wayne
Lil Wayne
Vocais principais
COMPOSIÇÃO E LETRA
Matlock
Matlock
Composição
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Composição
Ronald M. Ferebee Jr
Ronald M. Ferebee Jr
Composição
PRODUÇÃO E ENGENHARIA
Yonny
Yonny
Produção
Matlock
Matlock
Produção
Fabian Marasciullo
Fabian Marasciullo
Engenharia (mixagem)
Andrews Correa
Andrews Correa
Engenharia (gravação)
Tommy Mara
Tommy Mara
Engenharia (assistente)
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Engenharia (masterização)

Letra

[Intro]
Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no
Haha, cut the music up please
Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no
Hahaha, yeah
[Verse 1]
I play the bullshit from the backseat, champ
Yeah, I'm in the backseat, still got the seat back
Feet back, stay from where the fake be at
**** snitch for the shine, where the patience at?
**** make his own brother face his back
Give love, then take it back
Good grief, man, this world is quite heavy on my aching back
Cops killing for crack, you know the story, snakes eat rats
Face the facts, you can't change him
Can't shoot it if you can't aim it
Can't miss him, if he kill you, then you can't blame him
That's just how the dice roll when you can't fade 'em
Get too deep up in that water and they can't save you
Me, I come out of that water like I was just bathin'
And watch my step on the wet pavement, yeah
I'm from the hood, so I rep 'em where I can't take 'em
"Hollygrove, Hollygrove," was his last statement
So ****, get that look off your face
And recognize you got a crook in the place
They call me W-E-E-crooked letter-Y, I'm so high
I skeet-skeet in any **** dime like she's mine
Street-sweeper in the back of the hatch, make me pop the latch
Leave you bloody with the cops to match
Bullet holes in your speakers from the chopper blast
Like, haha, ah
That's bullet holes in your sneakers, got you hoppin' back
It all stop when they hit you in your top and back
No cockin' back, silly motherfucker, you ain't heard 'bout this
The clips hang down to the dick
That's an automatic shotty from a drum they call Tommy
Guaranteed to get you bitches from by me
When I hit every piece of your visible body, he leakin'
Mortimer is no longer leapin', he's sleepin'
While you pussy **** is sleepin', I'm thinkin'
Deep in thought, the boy ain't even winkin'
Bob Marley got me stinkin'
Stackin' figures, I'm standing firm, life's a Slinky
Pipes is filled with crack cocaine
And the dope go inside of the veins
From where I came
Though I bear a name only one can live with
Coach, they won't knock me off my pivot, forget it
I'm sicker with it, pick a city, buy a condo
Find a fine ho, let some time go, chill
What you know about a bongo having her mind go
Over a convo about dough? Nothing
Man, the four-wheelers look so good on the sand
Tee or tank top, pocket fan
No pocketknife, no handgun in sight
Just that rat-tat, tat, tat-tat-t-tat-tat, boom
Haha, tonight, I might just boost my feature price
'Cause to each his own, and the lights is bright
And I'm feeling like Mike at a Tyson fight
I'm from Cita house, Big Mama's house
She told me to shoot you right after I knock you out
And he ain't gettin' up after them shots if you hit him in the right spot
Hold up, the beat might drop
[Outro]
Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no
Oh no, no, oh, no, no, oh, no, no
Written by: D. Carter, Matlock, R. Ferebee
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