Styles P

Styles P - Kill That Faggot

rate me

[Intro]

Live shit, The Ghost

[Verse 1]

All the weed smoke bustin my lungs

I’m in the whip, with the 8 dollar bottle only trustin my gun

You would think I was born in the pot, the way my blood boil

Put ya brain in the dirt, and call it thug soil

Flow till ya sick of me, waddup

So if ya Catholic get ya Rosary, Muslims get ya thicker beads(?)

Yeah that’s a real thug,

I like to pray when I’m high, the weed is my shek(?), the blunt is my prayer rug

P ain’t got a religion,

Yeah I believe in God, but I’m harder than the cops in the prison

And I’m glad that the L.O.X. made it

I’m in the parkin lot, gun on my waist while I get intoxicated

You would be surprised all the drugs that I operated

We come through ya block, we got beef you cooperatin

Ghost cuz I’m outta this world

And I don’t play, I blow the large intestine right outta ya girl, what

[Chorus] x2

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Kill that faggot (what?), kill that faggot (what?), kill that faggot (what?), kill that faggot (what?)

[Verse 2]

The Ghost got telepathy

Shine in the darkside, disappear in the light, y’all want the recipe

You think I’m sleepin

Dog this is Styles, if I’m lookin in the sky im tryin to find a cloud to creep in

Come back when it rain again

You could get my drift on, understand my science then I’ma spit the pain again

You can’t sing wit’ angels, you chat wit’ a demon

I’m as loud as the gat that I’m squeezing, adapt for the heathens

Told you I’m the lord of the slums

Flow is water, words is fire, I order the guns

It ain’t nothing like the comin’ of Christ

You wanna roll and I’ma leave a hole you ain’t numbin’ with ice

Yeah I’m a soldier dog

Fuck around with Styles, you’ll never get a colder war, guaranteed I’m foldin’ y’all

Yeah I’ma tell you my name

You wouldn’t understand, it’s so deep that I’ma tell you my game, what

[Chorus] x2

[Verse 3]

I wanna kill the world and bouncin’ is my remedy

P will go to war if I ain’t got a ounce of energy

Die for my ace goons, live for the younger me

You could look in my eyes and see where the hunger be

Blood, sweat, and tears been dropped, dip ya bowl in it

But what make this shit bad, I put my soul in it

Fuck you… fuck them

Y’all ain’t got honor, respect the customs

Niggas don’t want me to flip, I don’t stand still

Been made my decision, how I was livin’

A couple years ago when I learned how a few grand feel

It’s my time to grind, my turn to burn

So I’m askin where the matches at, and if you can’t answer that

Then answer this, where the FUCK you want P to put the casket at?

What, mothafuckas

[Chorus] x4

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