Sheek Louch - In / Out (S.P.) lyrics

Yo you gotta hear the sixteen I just laid B.G.

Oh word, that shit a hit, that shit sound crazy

Yo check the phone man, the phone was ringin before

Yo this the Ghost right here my nigga

Damn I missed my nigga call, check my messages

Yeah this P

To erase this message press seven, to save it press nine

Styles: Pick up ya goddamn phone man, I keep tryin to call you

Jesus Christ boy, one

Yeah, D-Block

Styles P you wit me dog?

Hell yeah, let's get 'em, let's go

You get smacked with the hammer nigga play your position

'fore ruger more done set it and you stay in in position

Nigga I'll hawk your ass, wanna fit in my shoes

And you cowards can't walk my path

I don't know nobody fuckin wit us

I ain't Gerome Bettis but if I hit you it's gon feel like the bus

And you couldn't live this life and play this role

Like never part with your gun and stay this cold

Yo we in the streets where it's nothin but love

I'm them leather shits, you the Michael Jackson glove

I'm in the hood cause I'm dedicated

If I was you I woulda never made it

I'm Holiday so I'm celebrated

We don't reminisce bitch ass, remember that

Styles verse is the only thing gon bring it back

Tell the ghetto show discipline

I said Sheek gun Puerto Rican, bullets stay whistlin

Sheek and SP in and out, all for the streets

Turn the bass up and try not to fuck up your seats

Rock that shit, every corner, knock that shit

Niggaz try to front on us, cock that shit

I guess I'm gettin older

Cause everybody that I thought was hot go inside the garbage folder

And nigga I'm from D-Block, I'm on 3-5-4

I keep my heat cock, and my blunt lit

The mack out, take a piece of your back out

Raise it to your cheek nigga, dare you to speak

Shit I got plenty guns

And thugs that'll give a nigga a hug and say they stab anyone

You ain't never seen a nigga jaw hangin from his face

Sausage shaped red shit hangin from his waist

Nigga I'm well connected

By the time you hear this I'll be in jail but I probly got two cells

connected

Yack in one hand, the other the lizm

And If I push you down and wet you it's not baptism

Bitch this is mafia

It won't stop til they put you in the dirt with the flowers on top of ya

Sheek goin broke is not in the plans

I could sell gloves to a nigga with no hands

A lot of niggaz screamin they wolf, but I'm feelin they sheep

I won't be happy til the niggaz asleep

I'll punch a niggaz nose in, duckin and bustin

Cuttin and cussin, hold that you bitch ass nigga

And I could make the best die

Cut your throat open, pull your tongue through it

That's a fuckin neck tie

We turn bitch niggaz skin maroon

Pump turn niggaz voices like they hit a helium balloon

If Christ is comin it oughta be now, I swear to God

Cause all yall faggot niggaz die according to Styles

What nigga you could get it for free

Put your money up, ain't nobody fuckin wit Louch and P

Yeah nigga that's what's up

D-Block til the death motherfucker so our gats is up