STYLES P lyrics : "Beats To My Rhyme"
S.P. this where it started at, on the microphone?
Rip a ^!$$%, make him scream
(Yeah Poobs, let's get him ^!$$%)
Beats to the rhyme, street full of crime
Rap or the gat I got heat for your mind
Beats what a ^!$$% got asleep on your spine
On the creep and the grind, rap the work or double up
Hit you with a scar on your cheek, watch it bubble up
Man pull the Hummer up, shoot any runner-up
Real cool ^!$$%z but we might $#&@ the summer up
^!$$%z wonder what I'm involved in
See me all alone when I'm runnin in Harlem
Bronx and Queens, $#&@ that I live life like I'm starvin
You don't like me, $#&@ you ^!$$%!
I don't trust you, I cut you or bust you ^!$$%
I shoot up where you hustle ^!$$%, $#&@ the program up
Rob all your workers, cut yo' grams up
You dealin with big ^!$$%z or pig ^!$$%z
P don't give a $#&@ when it's time to jig ^!$$%z
(I don't give a $#&@) You dig? ^!$$%z big
Run up in the crib and wig ^!$$%z and I don't mean fake hair
You can bet that I'm goin, they said that there's cake there
Might as well get them candles out; we ain't makin a wish
We sayin a prayer cause I blammed you out - what?
Guess who back? It's P with the P-91
38 Specials, the extra gat
In the souped up Mirada ^!$$%, extra black - what?
You know who I am
I'm that ^!$$%! (Ghost)
Poobs we out