Yo you gotta hear the sixteen I just laid B.G.

Oh word, that shit a hit, that shit sound crazy

Yo check the phone man, the phone was ringin before

Yo this the Ghost right here my nigga

Damn I missed my nigga call, check my messages

Yeah this P

To erase this message press seven, to save it press nine

Styles: Pick up ya goddamn phone man, I keep tryin to call you

Jesus Christ boy, one



Yeah, D-Block

Styles P you wit me dog?

Hell yeah, let's get 'em, let's go





You get smacked with the hammer nigga play your position

'fore ruger more done set it and you stay in in position





Nigga I'll hawk your ass, wanna fit in my shoes

And you cowards can't walk my path





I don't know nobody fuckin wit us

I ain't Gerome Bettis but if I hit you it's gon feel like the bus





And you couldn't live this life and play this role

Like never part with your gun and stay this cold





Yo we in the streets where it's nothin but love

I'm them leather shits, you the Michael Jackson glove





I'm in the hood cause I'm dedicated

If I was you I woulda never made it

I'm Holiday so I'm celebrated





We don't reminisce bitch ass, remember that

Styles verse is the only thing gon bring it back





Tell the ghetto show discipline

I said Sheek gun Puerto Rican, bullets stay whistlin





Sheek and SP in and out, all for the streets

Turn the bass up and try not to fuck up your seats

Rock that shit, every corner, knock that shit

Niggaz try to front on us, cock that shit





I guess I'm gettin older

Cause everybody that I thought was hot go inside the garbage folder





And nigga I'm from D-Block, I'm on 3-5-4

I keep my heat cock, and my blunt lit





The mack out, take a piece of your back out

Raise it to your cheek nigga, dare you to speak





Shit I got plenty guns

And thugs that'll give a nigga a hug and say they stab anyone





You ain't never seen a nigga jaw hangin from his face

Sausage shaped red shit hangin from his waist





Nigga I'm well connected

By the time you hear this I'll be in jail but I probly got two cells

connected





Yack in one hand, the other the lizm

And If I push you down and wet you it's not baptism





Bitch this is mafia

It won't stop til they put you in the dirt with the flowers on top of ya









Sheek goin broke is not in the plans

I could sell gloves to a nigga with no hands





A lot of niggaz screamin they wolf, but I'm feelin they sheep

I won't be happy til the niggaz asleep





I'll punch a niggaz nose in, duckin and bustin

Cuttin and cussin, hold that you bitch ass nigga





And I could make the best die

Cut your throat open, pull your tongue through it

That's a fuckin neck tie





We turn bitch niggaz skin maroon

Pump turn niggaz voices like they hit a helium balloon





If Christ is comin it oughta be now, I swear to God

Cause all yall faggot niggaz die according to Styles





What nigga you could get it for free

Put your money up, ain't nobody fuckin wit Louch and P





Yeah nigga that's what's up

D-Block til the death motherfucker so our gats is up