G-Joint (Album Version|Explicit) - Styles P

Yo I rock the f**k out

I don't know 'bout everyone else

Whatever we don't make we gonna take motherf**ker

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 ya down

Niggaz driving in a circle wit your hoe in the back

Be the only damn way I'll be f**king around

And I'm aiming for yo waist hoping you duck

So I can bust you in the head when I'm bucking tha 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 gong 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 ni**a copper and lead

Whaddup

Stay in the zone

I don't know why the f**k you amped yo

Got hoodrat b**ches carrying birds on the public transpo

Niggaz in the hood that go out like Rambo

They hot since 138th had that (unverified)

Young Buck dumb f**k

Two Gunz up ride or die 'til the sun's up

Gangsta and a gentleman dawg

I got class I'ma send a bunch a roses to your men in tha morgue

I'll be down south bending a whore pretending I'm on

Thirty on eighty-five like Jay Barnes Sean Paul

Beef wit New York rappers I'm killing 'em all

On my Slick Rick sh*t y'all could lick the balls

I been cool 'coz niggaz is asthma

F**k that might as well call me pool 'coz I'm getting splashed

And that Lamborghini lifting the stash

Even getting the mass while some haze be mixed wit the hash

Whaddup

Pass that blunt ni**a

I'm in the hood where the eggs get knocked off

Gang members find they family members with

Both of they legs chopped off

Niggaz 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 b**ch you could call me J Van Dam

All these so called 'Guerrillas' be telling

I'ma rag on these Thoughts of a Predicate Felon motherf**ker

Homie what you want the blade or the slug

I'm the one that send the order when they sprayed up the club

B**ch ni**a bow your head in the presence of G's

Load the lead up and squeeze I'm a Great Dane niggaz is fleas

F**king rats can't wait to call cops

'Til I make 'em sick and put pellets in they mouth like cough drops

J-Hood b**ch my name rang in the ghetto

'Coz I'm O G and I play the streetz like a cello