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• Artiste: Styles P
• Titre: Beats To My Rhyme
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[Intro] S.P. this where it started at, on the microphone? Rip a nigga, make him scream (Yeah Poobs, let's get him nigga) [Styles P] Beats to the rhyme, street full of crime Rap or the gat I got heat for your mind Beats what a nigga 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 niggaz but we might fuck the summer up Niggaz wonder what I'm involved in See me all alone when I'm runnin in Harlem Bronx and Queens, fuck that I live life like I'm starvin You don't like me, fuck you nigga! I don't trust you, I cut you or bust you nigga I shoot up where you hustle nigga, fuck the program up Rob all your workers, cut yo' grams up You dealin with big niggaz or pig niggaz P don't give a fuck when it's time to jig niggaz (I don't give a fuck) You dig? Niggaz big Run up in the crib and wig niggaz 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 nigga, extra black - what? You know You know who I am I'm that nigga! (Ghost) Poobs we out