Cool Out - Styles P

Yeah, what up three times

Time is Money nigga

Truly believe that…

Play your fee

No sleep, little nigga don’t lie down

It’s real when the beef don’t die down

Me I gotta eat I keep the heat

Run, picture me high clown

I don’t give a fuck, ride later or ride now

Keep it on the waste

Let a nigga jump

I’ll have him leaking from the face

And put a beating on the case

Niggas in the hood might hate me

But they don’t try shit

'Cause them Thirty-Eights ain’t got no safetys

S Dot, P Dot, D Block

Dolo at the juice bar or weed spot

Came with the heat cocked

Seat low, black Crown Vic, let the beat knock

Deep thoughts, ride through New York

Who’s got the streets locked?

You can tell your man I’ll smoke ya

Raps Alejandro Sosa

Hang you from the helicopter

Hopping in the Yukon with the tanned out sofas

I only eat seafood

And when I look at these rappers I see seafood

I heard y’all don’t give a fuck niggas, me too

We can mete up the bill

Matter fact we can meet up to kill

Niggas from cross town we can meet at the hill

Second album is coming, I’m expecting the hate

I’m the same S.P. so the weapons is placed

And I don’t press charges

I’m the type of nigga that’ll hop up out the garbage

Dressed in camoflauge like I came out the forest

Four in the Taurus

'Cause everybody singing like the court need a chorus

I’m tired of the games

Blowing niggas brains out the frames

Put short, get a florist