Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, bruthahs 'n' sistahs. And I got somethin' to say to all y'all bitches out there: Keep yo' motherfuckin' shit offa my desk, or I'll fuck your sorry ass up wit' a quickness. And I don't want to see y'all comin' around, puttin' your feet on it, neither. Or puttin' your goddamn coffee cups on it and leaving them fucked-up rings all upside the wood and shit.
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Yall Don't Wanna Fuck. My Style's louder than a stereo Fouler than the snake when I kill these fuckin' rappers Then show up at the burials I don't mean to worry y'all but I want y'all gone And this M is the only way to hurry y'all Here's my last proposition, I'm treatin' rap like crack If I don't sell the most, I gotta kill the competition Don't take it personal, gotta go to jail and if I come back And don't have my cash, then I'm hurtin' you Got a business gun wit industry bullets When it hit you, motherfucker, guaranteed it be jerkin' you Rings is so my contact will break up your man I'm a gentleman, my contract's a shake of a hand I make it hard so, only God could wake up your man 'Coz I do things the Don way It's Paniro the Ghost, Goodfella like fucking Jim Conway Leave no evidence Fuck a dead man, when I can leave off the scene wit dead presidents What? Motherfucker, yeah Don't you ever try to fuck wit MOP and Styles This is for the hood and niggas that's wild If you 'bout to die or you blowin' the trial We're gangsta ass niggas that been flowin' awhile Ayo, let's do it for the hood where there's alotta homicides at Where killers ride at and OGs reside at It's rugged, son, I love it, son, I see it every day Fuck that, we'll find another way to play So don't mistake me for no rap artist Missin' old dude is from the old school He abide by the old rules And our Pro-Tools is 38 longs The crime rate will inflate and the murder rate is strong How could we get along? And you doing this underhanded fagot shit, you fagot bitch We gotta get you gone, William Danze songs Chapter one All disloyal guys should be shot in they back Once and left paralyzed Game over now You gon' change me, how? What you thought would happen When they chained me to Fame and Styles You ask in the hood about it, all it can be is L M O O X P, motherfucker You keep thinkin' when I flow Pa, it's a wrap Put when your ass, get beat wit a crowbar, it's a wrap For real, we straight thug it Read my palms, you see more chapters than L Ron Hubbard Huh, we done dealt more drugs than Genovese Made dope fiends outta school principals and deans Now they all fucked up, career finished Got they ass noddin' in front of the Methodon clinics We thug it all day but it ain't the Henny in me It's that Brownsville shit wit a splash of Trinny in me All I need is a hammer and a clip load I'll stomp, do whatever, state, borough, zip code It's the MOP, mashin' through your ghetto Rippin heavy metal, wit Paniro We Ruff Ryde Listen up, y'all better respect the criminal shit of these OGs What's poppin', nigga? You don't wanna touch this It's Paniro the Ghost, Goodfella like fucking Jim Conway You don't wanna touch this It's Lil Fizzy wit that Brownsville shit And splash of Trinny in me You don't wanna touch this Bill, 38 long, the crime rate will inflate And the murder rate is strong You don't wanna touch this. Kommentar Dein Name.
Listen to We Don't Fuck with Yall now.
Sign In Register. Artist: Styles P. Album: Miscellaneous.
App Store. Google Play. Don't go to Sonic! Corn dogs come on a wooden stick Jeez, both of you are terrible pulling out in time.