[Verse 1: Styles P]
They ain't tell you that New York is mine
What an awful time, pop his body then toss the nine
Don't nobody wanna cross the line, that the Ghost draw
I get stoned, you want smoke dog? I flip off like O-Dog
Beloved brothers I don't care about them other brothers
I clip your older or younger brother
But I ain't with the rah-rah life, I'm with the la-la-life
Loose shooter on the Baha bike
I'm dead wrong, you swear to god I'm right, yeah
Fuck with East get your knees broke
I run out of bars, I got Belize coke
Touch me, I get a shooter to shoot free throws
I know big MCs and big kilos
Got a old plug that Kiss know
Way out of Frisco, coke money from discos
Still box like I'm Klitschko, Crawford
I still hop out the six-o, awkward
I still fit in the mix though
Cursed but I still piss with the gift though
Yeah the brother is beloved, he ain't never been soft
He been rugged, nigga
And I been in the mob when these little niggas said they were thuggin', yeah
And these niggas said they hard but if you ask me
I think these niggas just buggin', yeah, these niggas out of place
If they get up in my face I'ma cut 'em, yeah
Ill niggas that kill niggas, not a molester, not tryin' to feel niggas
Not in the house yeah, I'm in the field niggas
Why you lyin', said you a real nigga
I got the Tommy, no not a Hilfigher, yeah
Cut the shit 'fore I cut your face with a razor that cut the brick
Have my homegirl cut your bitch, tell the label to cut the check
Or I'll fuck around and bust a clip, yeah
Beloved, nigga
They ain't tell you that New York is mine
What an awful time, pop his body then toss the nine
Don't nobody wanna cross the line, that the Ghost draw
I get stoned, you want smoke dog? I flip off like O-Dog
Beloved brothers I don't care about them other brothers
I clip your older or younger brother
But I ain't with the rah-rah life, I'm with the la-la-life
Loose shooter on the Baha bike
I'm dead wrong, you swear to god I'm right, yeah
Fuck with East get your knees broke
I run out of bars, I got Belize coke
Touch me, I get a shooter to shoot free throws
I know big MCs and big kilos
Got a old plug that Kiss know
Way out of Frisco, coke money from discos
Still box like I'm Klitschko, Crawford
I still hop out the six-o, awkward
I still fit in the mix though
Cursed but I still piss with the gift though
Yeah the brother is beloved, he ain't never been soft
He been rugged, nigga
And I been in the mob when these little niggas said they were thuggin', yeah
And these niggas said they hard but if you ask me
I think these niggas just buggin', yeah, these niggas out of place
If they get up in my face I'ma cut 'em, yeah
Ill niggas that kill niggas, not a molester, not tryin' to feel niggas
Not in the house yeah, I'm in the field niggas
Why you lyin', said you a real nigga
I got the Tommy, no not a Hilfigher, yeah
Cut the shit 'fore I cut your face with a razor that cut the brick
Have my homegirl cut your bitch, tell the label to cut the check
Or I'll fuck around and bust a clip, yeah
Beloved, nigga
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!