Hot Style Giggs (Ft. DJ Big Ryde, Suspect OTB & Y.Sap)

[Verse 1: Suspect]
Niggas so fucking broke, make me sick to my stomach
See 'em stunting on the net but they ain't touching them numbers
Them jewels ain't yours (borrowed), that whip weren’t bought (rental)
Fuck nigga, you deserve to be behind them doors
And let some real niggas out, swear down I mean it
Stuck these niggas up, man, his stash look anaemic
You mad cause the young goons stacking what I’m eating
Trap still booming linking poppy by the evening
You pussy niggas know how I rock
Big bezzle, long chain, keep it glist for them opps
Had them niggas on their toes when we swerved on their block
Talk trash but weren’t tryna stand around for them Glocks
Wooly, Dirt Grove niggas shook of them blocks
All that motor mouth and no one come to them blocks
Last nigga slipped, got two in his top
Told the Ds we was at some industry ting with Buck

[Verse 2: Y.Sap]
Forgot my bally, nigga clocked my face
Jakes tryna build up another case
All because my pagans want a little fame
Probation tried to recall, had a close shave
Gang relation says I got the wrong mates
But back to the Narm where it's not safe
If you’re caught slipping, so much pain
This Berreta insane
That nigga said he’s on me, when he saw me he done nothing
Caught a nigga slipping on his job, he was not on it
One push of a button, make a nizza spit in dozens
I am superbad, like that kid McLovin
Stop, drop and roll when the niggas roll up busting
Hands over your head to prevent a concussion
Lucky bastard caught one in his stomach
9mms turn his insides all rotten