Yeah my niggaz, just spend a little bit of time with the ghost holiday, styles, pinero, well you listen to me real niggaz feel me, some real nggaz probably
(Intrumental)
: [feat. Tyler the Creator] [Verse 1:] Welcome back to class, bitch, grab on to your glasses Odd Future leaving even niggas in past tense Style is patent
die Wurzel aus 2. Hater oder Fan, das lebende Gespenst der alte Newcomer, das ewige Talent, doch er erfullt dieser Szene ihre innere Leere, sein Style
far can't be mad if they hit me (shhiit) [Verse 5: 50 Cent] I'm a tell you what Banks told me "cus go head switch the style up" And if the hate then
boots I don't need no confrontation All I want is an ejaculation 'Cause I like them ghetto hoochies Ones who like to pop that coochie [Hoo wee!] Miami style
's on You the first face I wanna see When I get home I wanna love you 'till the sun rise Buckwild Touchin' every wall in the house Thug style Put ya'
for settin' traps Little accident murderers and I ain't never heard of ya Poise less gats attack when I'm servin' ya Shanke you, spank ya, your whole style
pen the right across from hell, I can't cry Cause it's on now, I'm just a nigga on his own now Livin life Thug style, so I can't smile Writin to my peoples
x2] I can't fall down on my knees (on my knees) And apologise to you (to you) Coz that aint my style (That aint my style) [Verse 2] I remember
pimpin' now early with the hoes. Four for my niggaz runnin' around with .44's (yeah!) Reppin' that five all the way live [gunshot] I got a style that
was the shit (uh-huh) I seen her in the V.I.P. chillin with her clique (yeah) She hot mayne, I watched her (c'mon) I like her style She don't know what
can hide if you want but nothing can save ya (yeeah!) Times running out, I'm a get ya boy! [50 Cent:] I threw a B-Boy style. - Bullet wound in my smile
I Got, Money-Money I Got (Yeah, I Run New York!) [Verse 1: 50 Cent] Come on man I'm hot now, drop now, top down I got style Been around the block pal
no "New Jack", but I'm so Nino. Hotter then cappuccino, track by Premo. (uuuuuuuuh-oooooooooooh!) It's that mop stick, ice pick, adicca style; Put your
The paper I geeet it, the paper I geeeet it! (whoooooooooo-whhhhhooooooooooooooooo!) [Verse 1:] Yeah! - What the fuck nigga? I - rock - like I got That style
my loot, and I'm baggin you Pimpin hoes that drive Volvo's and Rodeos Flash the Roll, make her wet, in her pantyhose Damn, a nigga style is unorthodox
make my heart speak Need noone else, you are all I need Personality(ty), and everything you do(do) Makes me to love, everything 'bout you Your smile, your style
