Love My Style
Two thou I was outside with the family
Coppin' trees paying low fees for a grammie
If it wasn't spliffs, pickin' sis up from nanny
Tryna make it home to watch Jamie Foxx for Fancy
Known for starting trouble like McDonald's on Delancey
Labeled as a failure no results to prove it clearly
Shouts to Mr. Bailey, barely, fuck with tutors rarely
Teachers pet, treat on desk, just ain't appeal me
I was having dreams and the streets didn't scare me
Posted on the block up top that's Camby
You thinking like Spree but for me understand thee
Come up, still the come up til' next stop the Grammys
And freaks in Miami, the suites with no panties
They crept in the room with the Ri Ri jammys
Fenty shit, empty clips when riffin' on beats
So when I reload I promise that I'm spittin some heat (I know ya!)
I put it down something serious live from the A
And every rhyme that I say, is done a marvelous way
For money I missed in April imma charge 'em in May
Hanni Fresh provide the sounds the ghetto orchestra play
Lemme show you how I cooked the style
Mix a Queens putrid child, raise him there
Move him South, send him through ruthless trails
Give him beats, music sounds
Battle niggas, proving grounds
Show 'em you can do it now
Time for you to prove it now
Move around the city slow, never at a hurry pace
Stuck with a blurry face, thanks to Mr. Blurry Face
Flow cash money think shots Stephen Curry takes
Tryna see thirty-eight and never want a dirty eighth
Queens Get The Money thats the attitude
From Flushing to Jamaica Avenue
So talk nice or don't open ya yap
And the style you don't like it, nah you love in fact, And that's that
Top tier I'm that good
Spliffs full of that good
Good on any MLK boulevard I'm that hood
If the wings slap then I'm pulling up to that hood
I ain't gotta act hood, frontin' you know that could
Leave you on a back stood, stiff like a Mack hood
Peace out to Mac hood, New York to the backwoods
Need to quit my vices should to pass as Robert Pack would
Nobody stoppin' this you can argue with a backwood
Pussy! I'm down for whatever takes
Made hella mistakes
It's real go to hell with the fake
Clever & shaped to stand up malevolent snakes
Can never relate, we live from a prevalent state
And we keep it hip-hop so we never disgrace
The legends & greats, get cake, 50 & Banks
Flow nasty I don't play nice, never dealt with stage fright
Rising like elevators cuz I punch like Ray Rice, that ain't right
Coppin' trees paying low fees for a grammie
If it wasn't spliffs, pickin' sis up from nanny
Tryna make it home to watch Jamie Foxx for Fancy
Known for starting trouble like McDonald's on Delancey
Labeled as a failure no results to prove it clearly
Shouts to Mr. Bailey, barely, fuck with tutors rarely
Teachers pet, treat on desk, just ain't appeal me
I was having dreams and the streets didn't scare me
Posted on the block up top that's Camby
You thinking like Spree but for me understand thee
Come up, still the come up til' next stop the Grammys
And freaks in Miami, the suites with no panties
They crept in the room with the Ri Ri jammys
Fenty shit, empty clips when riffin' on beats
So when I reload I promise that I'm spittin some heat (I know ya!)
I put it down something serious live from the A
And every rhyme that I say, is done a marvelous way
For money I missed in April imma charge 'em in May
Hanni Fresh provide the sounds the ghetto orchestra play
Lemme show you how I cooked the style
Mix a Queens putrid child, raise him there
Move him South, send him through ruthless trails
Give him beats, music sounds
Battle niggas, proving grounds
Show 'em you can do it now
Time for you to prove it now
Move around the city slow, never at a hurry pace
Stuck with a blurry face, thanks to Mr. Blurry Face
Flow cash money think shots Stephen Curry takes
Tryna see thirty-eight and never want a dirty eighth
Queens Get The Money thats the attitude
From Flushing to Jamaica Avenue
So talk nice or don't open ya yap
And the style you don't like it, nah you love in fact, And that's that
Top tier I'm that good
Spliffs full of that good
Good on any MLK boulevard I'm that hood
If the wings slap then I'm pulling up to that hood
I ain't gotta act hood, frontin' you know that could
Leave you on a back stood, stiff like a Mack hood
Peace out to Mac hood, New York to the backwoods
Need to quit my vices should to pass as Robert Pack would
Nobody stoppin' this you can argue with a backwood
Pussy! I'm down for whatever takes
Made hella mistakes
It's real go to hell with the fake
Clever & shaped to stand up malevolent snakes
Can never relate, we live from a prevalent state
And we keep it hip-hop so we never disgrace
The legends & greats, get cake, 50 & Banks
Flow nasty I don't play nice, never dealt with stage fright
Rising like elevators cuz I punch like Ray Rice, that ain't right
Credits
Writer(s): Kendall Carrington
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.