Text:
Styles P In My Hood

"Don't push the Mario man!" [Styles P] (In my hood) E'rybody sayin fuck 50 (fuck him) That he don't really want a buck fifty (uh-uh) Listen dawg, Banks

G.] To all my Brooklyn (Niggas!) To all my Uptown (You niggas understand?!) To all my Bronx (It's war nigga) To all my Queensbridge (I'll blow you away

drivin' a Delorean, hard times never heard of those, in the back, my feet kicked up, get my d-ck sucked, with the curtains closed, and for the record kid, my

I finger f-ck my firearm, we intimate, Im into it [Chorus] [Jadakiss] hit em in the head with the dummies than you good funeral homes make the most money in the hood

poem for the many gun-slingers R&B singers, perpetrating guns with two fingers My style is perhaps one of the foulest I inhale large clouds of smoke through my

Styles P:] Ghost Vinny Idol nigga YEAH~! Flipsyde [Flipsyde (Styles P):] And I'm gonna burn one down (gonna burn..) Burn one down (this song.. the fuck

I don't mean Vince, Purple label and purple Porsche... I look into the sky life, my life And I zip my lips the minute they read my rights. Blowin'

A message to my pops, my head's on my shoulders And I'm takin care of family and never will it stop A message to my sister, your big brother got you But

) Gotta sacrafice (ohow) [Styles P] I don't need no pen, I don't pad Yeah I miss my brother yeah I miss my dad Wanna kill the whole world, sometimes