Organized rhyme gangsta connected, from ghetto to ghetto and city to city we worldwide respected
Feared and rejected, rhymes perfected, no need for a none
Holy ghost protected, it’s the don of the rap clique, don’t trip
Spit lyrical rhymes that reach ‘em killas and the convicts, Piru’s, B-doggs
And ‘em shaw crips and street pimps with these West coast bomb hits
12 years strong, still cant see my clique, sick with the spit
Tell them prayer haters, get a grip, and don’t trip, this a brand apocalypse
Two double o three, aint no stoppin’ this, from California to the projects of the boogie down
We infamous for bringing that gospel God-core sound, you cant see O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-E-D-R-H-Y-M-E.

Chorus
Yall cant see these G’s, playas and ridas from the ORC,we the dopest clique
There ever gone be, straight up out of the dirty bay, ohh wee, Cali hits is what we bring
Nuttin’ less only the best from the west, so get up out of your seat
Baby and let me see you do the gospel boogie.

Peligroso, like a shoot out, with the po-po, or hydros with no struts in tha low-low
Ya’ll must be crazy tryin’ to mess with an assassin, I’m flashin and blastin anyone harrassin’
Find a catch a thrashin, and if then asking, tell em Bone said it
Leave ya black and blue with a lyrical weapon, calling the paramedics
Ya’ll cant see us like a cheetah in the jungle, you’re all bark, we’re all bite, ready to rumble