Styles P - So Appalled (Freestyle/Remix) - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

So Appalled (Freestyle/Remix)

Styles P

Whiteowl Drop That 139

28

Rap

Tekst piosenki
[Verse 1: Jadakiss] So sick of it Run up in your crib, just for the sake of stickin' it Yeah, I'm ridiculous I know this is Kanye's track, but I'm kissin' it Still laughin' at these cats, like I'm ticklish Just somethin' about that shit, I like flippin' it The world's back on my dick, I'm Mike Vick'n it Cock back and squeeze, only right that you squirt off Soon as I leave the building, they turn the alert off Only thing I need to know is can you knock the work off Fifth Ave, spendin' crack money up in Bergdorf Leave that boy alone; I wouldn't recommend it Half a mil worth of V-V's, independent Everything is splendid, all fine and dandy Hood-rich is one point nine off the candy [?] sweat suit, thermal on with the [?] Grilled tilapia, steamed salmon, or the scampi Snakes still squirmin'; haze off sherm, and Block is like the nickel boy days in the Vernon Chrome four-fif'n, cause they still snitchin' The pool's in the living room, swim to the kitchen I'm so appalled; I'm better than 'em all I rip an arena just like a hole in the wall Spend a few stacks on some hoes in the mall Real niggas is either in the hole or the morgue Enemies is cool, loved ones'll hurt you Dishonor before death, yeah, vice-versa Elegant performance, my stash is enormous Real talk: New York's been mine for the longest Strong ones'll make it, weak ones'll suffocate I keep it in the 'hood, so it's easy to resuscitate Life's like a milk crate, nothin' like a beach, kid Good cardigan over the True's, nice feet-wear Yeah.. [Verse 2: Styles P] Yeah Hustle like an African, mother from the motherland Work in the zip-lock, money in the rubber band If the cops don't blitz, then I'm lucky I want the eighth floor of the Ritz, like Nucky Empire, like A-C from K-C Kitchen cook; step up in the spot, all the bitches look Eastbound down like Kenny Powers Bricks is in the Dodge Neon, but it's Hemi-powered, any hour This could be a seven-digit flip Send a kite to the bing to get seven niggas ripped Get the top ten list and get seven niggas clipped I used to just ride on the seven bus Now I let it bubble like Seven-Up That was five sevens, you could die with a three in front Need money, need pussy, need liquor, need a blunt Wanna fuck with me, nigga? You gon' need a gun Money over bitches, but respect over money, though Loyalty'll have you on the boat to the bungalow What you know about eatin' with the old man? Tell the truth, this rap shit wasn't in the program Sittin' on crates, to pickin' up weight You gotta lift open the crate; tryin' to get my niggas straight Ridiculous, I would even say this on tape (Ayo Kiss) And you say New York City, that the world is very different now Gun-light is my phone, real easy to lift it now I'm so appalled Shoot the pallbearers at your motherfuckin' funeral and treat 'em like dogs Cause it's a motherfuckin' war Nigga! D-Block! Act like ya know, bitch!
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