Оригинален текст
Verse 1
Shhh (two guns up mothafucka, two guns up mothafucka (overlap))
Real shit...styles p shit..
If p want you dead, i aint comin' wit niggas
Just a blunt and a tre pound, plenty of liquor
So ya homies got something to pour
That's that old school shit
I aint tryin' to put you under the floor
I'm tryin' ta bang niggas over the clouds
And i heard you say you rich
So you can't get lower than styles
Kill everybody dead just so noone can smile
Play the streets my whole life and i been flowin' a while
Biget i rock, ever since my nigga was shot and my other nigga
Was shoot shit i'm tellin' the truth
If i lie, may i die in the middle of the verse
My niggas hustle from first to first
Twelve months in a year
Gun on your waist, blunt in your ear
Pat in your sock, trade at the back of the block
With a fein watchin' for knorx till the shit get dark
We jump in the hoop ride, instead of the six
While you lookin' for a bitch, we lookin' for a brick
That we can cook by six and give the whole block a fix
Catch me on "?" gettin' sixty a shift
Holidy styles, nigga i aint nothin' but streets