Styles P #homophobia #psycho genius.com
(submitter’s note. lyrics have been truncated. submitted because another fundie, cooljerk666, loves this song.)
All the weed smoke bustin' my lungs, I'm in the whip
With the 8-dollar bottle only trustin' my gun
You would think I was born in the pot, the way my blood boil
Put your brain in the dirt, and call it thug soil
Flow 'til your sick of me, what up?
So if your Catholic get your Rosaries Muslims get your thicker beads
Yeah it's a rare thug
I like to pray when I'm high, the weed is my shek, the blunt is my prayer rug
P ain't got a religion, yeah,.I believe in God
But I'm harder than the cops in the prison
And I'm glad that the L.O.X. made it
I'm in the parkin' lot, gun on my waist while I get intoxicated
You would be surprised all the drugs that I operated
Come through your block, we got beef, you cooperatin'
Ghost 'cause I'm out of this world and I don't play
I blow the large intestine right out of your girl, what
Kill that faggot (x8)
[...]
I wanna kill the world and bouncin' is my remedy
P'll go to war but I ain't got a ounce of energy
Die for my ace goons, live for the younger me
You could look in my eyes and see where the hunger be
Blood, sweat, and tears been dropped, dip your bowl in it
What would make this shit bad, I put my soul in it
Fuck you, fuck them
Y'all ain't got honor, respect the customs
Niggas don't want me to flip, but I don't stand still
Been made my decision, how I was livin'
A couple of years ago when I learned how a few grand feel
It's my time to grind, my turn to burn
So I'm askin' where the matches at
And if you can't answer that, then answer this
Where the fuck you want P to put the casket at?
What, motherfuckers
Kill that faggot (x8)