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Artist: Reef the Lost Cauze vs Guns-N-Butter f/ Burke the Jurke, Vinnie Paz
Album:  Fight Music
Song:   OPG Theme
Typed by: jostmatt at bluewin dot ch

[ VERSE 1: Reef the Lost Cauze ]
We puff cigars and sip Jesus juice
To get dough I don't need a booth long as crack smokes and needle shoots
Unbelievable, a lethal crew, a evil rule
I be in Cali smoking diesel, you never leave the room
You in your crib just clickety-clackin
Typin messages about how niggas be rappin
Like, "He used to spit fire, like really, what happened?"
You really need cabbage cause you simply a faggot, cocksucker
Why your jaw's tight?
Aiyo I'm sick, I got a wild bitch who strangled you to death like Arturo's wife
Rest in peace to all of those who died tragically
Steve McNair got a nigga scared to eat at Applebees
I mean Dave & Buster's
And I donít give a fuck about my own life, so it's nothing for me to take another
Your bitch is a freak, she said, "Take a number"
We ran trizznain, that bitch say, "Take a number"

[ VERSE 2: Burke the Jurke ]
Aiyo, I weigh about a deuce and a half
And manoeuvre too fast for you losers to grasp
You're not eludin my wrath
Grab the duffelbag and scoop the loot and the cash
I subtract you from your stash and now you do the math
I sit on the church steps with the booze in a flask
I love the sound of the music from a funeral man
Want me to google your producer, man, you dudes should just ask
I see through you like glass and my goons just laugh
Take a swig of the Grey Goose, take a trip to Jesus
Get your gay troops, turn your strip to Beirut
This is fight music, I ain't widowed a comrade
This is combat, give your sister her son back
I'm reppin OPG, you got OCD
Your shit is one dimensional, my flow's 3D
They they say that I'm as gritty as ODB
Or Dirt McGirt, but they call me Burke the Jurke

[ VERSE 3: Vinnie Paz ]
Pazienza and Lost Cauze drunken with the .44s
I just mangled the fucking mic, pussy, it's all yours
I don't need to spit sixteens, you done in four bars
Fat motherfucker, I only eat it if it's four stars
When you knocked out cold it's hard to fight back
Street pharmacist with more pills than Mike Jack
I don't wanna listen to y'all, y'all shit is type wack
I been eatin rappers for years, you just a light snack
Aiyo Sharif, burn these motherfuckers at the stake
They ain't gonna get a chance to learn from they mistakes
Death is comin for you motherfuckers, save the day
Everything I spit is equivalent to a Mason's haze
This is Pazienza, the Official Pistol Gang
And we was born and bred in Killadelphia, Pistolvane
The .38 or .45, see, every pistol bang
They can levitate your body and they can rip through brains