Lyrics:
nigga?) I'm talkin about tonight nigga
Yo Styles, is that the freak that we was dancin with?
(I think so, yup!) Yeah c'mon let's see what's up
Yo
to having violent psychotic
Quick devour polish it, politics
By the way I'm higher than the Eiffel Tower tip
I like writin'
But I will stick this pencil
the cyclone
Styles, yes i know
We're the ... team, maxime....
Put 'em up, what the ****
Stuff they can't breathe
Off the wall spitting, n***a we're in
I'm still the old me
But now the diamonds round my neck and wrist on frozen
Hold up Big racks know I keep it on me
I'm a vloner till the end die by my
I done went up
Lil nigga I bossed up now, I changed my style
I don't give a fuck 'bout that bitch no more
I'm focused on my own time
Hop on the beat
and act wild
Bitin' on the next nigga's mackin' style
And it's all from head, passin' round the mic
Never even care who you sounded like
Sound like
I'm getting by with my wicked ways
I'm loading up and I'm taking names
I wanna dig my way to hell
I wanna dig my way to hell
I'm getting by
displayed on Persian rugs
Equations are drawn up in paisley form
Mic, it stay warm, my flow is Evian
Deep as a Nautilus, you stay dipped in Ra's style
profound
Similar to rounds spit by Derringers
You're in the Terrordome like my man Chuck D said
It's time to dethrone you clones, and all you knuckleheads
Motherfuckers wanna cater my style
Motherfuckers wanna play with my style
Motherfuckers cant pull off my style yeah
Woke up in the mornin (bless)
You was
the pocket of the people just so way we got another away to block up off all the evil
Man I hate seeing drug fiend families who in love with deep taste
the west
Heard they gotta couple banks in town that ain't been held up yet
Well uh, I oughta make it by sundown
I figure that's enough time to get tha
don't know What you like
Can't keep asking if you down for the ride
Young and turnt and a nigga too wild
This my style, you can't steal my flow I ain't
You a raw nigga then roll up
Bless with this shit hold up
Dabbered out when I run it down
Kings in this bitch royal style
Roll up, roll up, roll up
We holler yee-haw and then we saddle up
Get your money right then you add it up
We grab the bull by the horns make him back it up
We holler
my style as a Rebel misfit
Always awaken by my instinct while haters stay acting timid
Telling on their self I'm watching their actions cuz words are
pounds, I'm trynna serve you all
Behind the wall, they locked me down, my back against the wall
Think you switch up on me while, but mother-fuck you all
from Far Rock hoppin'
Over the turnstile
To set up shop up top by the Jamaican spot
My joints have been a
Bop, from vinyl, cassettes, cDs and streams
Over her head and she responds late
I place the blame on all them clowns that she round
Because intelligence ain't part of their style
Smarten up dumb
around
Remember the sound of the rounds came from my town
That only a bitch would bite that we can't allow
And they won't claim my style ready to beat you
beams
You shootin up dreams I aim for targets you ain't seen
But wait, don't try to sneak up on me from behind I ain't fake
You know my type of style
lined up
Bro let off bells, he's the Glock provider
Bang, bang, bang, let off another round
If no one's touched, then it'll come back around, for
Mother fucker stay up out my cool-Aid pitcher
You don't want to see my style like click click pow
Make you bow to my wicked style, make you my child
it
It’s time to make it and turn a blind eye to hatred
Turn up your thermostat the burners back
To earn a stack and learn the fact that earners lack
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