Testo G Joint - Styles P
Testo della canzone G Joint (Styles P), tratta dall'album The Phantom
"Yo, I rock the fuck out
I don't know 'bout everyone else"
Whatever we don't make, we gon' take mo'fucker
Get this straight and fix your face
I ain't gotta sell millions, I'm in the buildings
With poppy coming through with them bricks by eight
Listen, cocksucker and clown, I'll be leaving you cut
You're like a dutch hound, busting you down
Niggas driving in a circle with your ho in the back
Be the only damn way I'll be fucking around
And I'm aiming for your waist, hoping you duck
So I can bust you in the head when I'm buckin' the pound
And I told you that I'm holiday Styles, let's celebrate
Heard you getting money, I'll rob you right now
And you gon' get popped in the head, true story
Crips do they thing in blue gloves, pop off some red
Me, I'm on the move, only stopping for bread
Double-R and D-Block nigga, copper and lead
Word up!
"Stay in the zone"
I don't know why the fuck you amped yo
Got hoodrat bitches carrying birds on the public transpo
Niggas in the hood that go out like Rambo
They hot since 138th had that transpo
Young Buck, dumb fuck
Two gunz up, ride or die 'til the suns up
Gangsta and a Gentleman, dawg
I got class, I'ma send a bunch a roses to your men in the morgue
I'll be down south bending a whore, pretending I'm on
30 on 85 like Jay Barnes Sean Paul
Beef wit' New York rappers, I'm killing 'em all
On my Slick Rick shit, y'all could lick the balls
I been cool 'cause niggas is asthma
Fuck that, might as well call me pool 'cause I'm getting splashed
And that Lamborghini lifting the stash
Even getting the mass while some haze be mixed with the hash
Word up!
"Pass that blunt, nigga"
I'm in the hood where the eggs get knocked off
Gang members find they family members with both of they legs chopped off
Niggas ain't scrappin', they bangin' ya
The judge don't need a tree branch when they hanging ya
All y'all fags'll get ate like clams
This is a blood sport, bitch, you could call me J. Van Damme
All these so called 'Guerrillas' be tellin'
I'ma rag on these thoughts of a predicate felon
Motherfucker
Homie, what you want, the blade or the slug?
I'm the one that send the order when they sprayed up the club
Bitch nigga, bow your head in the presence of Gs
Load the lead up and squeeze
I'm a great Dane, niggas is fleas
Fucking rats can't wait to call cops
'Til I make 'em sick and put pellets in they mouth like cough drops
J-Hood bitch, my name rang in the ghetto
'Cause I'm OG, and I play the streets like a cello
Credits
Writer(s): John Kenneth Wetton, David Styles, Geoff Downes, Marcellino Gerald
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