the rhyme king
truth.com
Talk, Holiday Styles, S-P or whatever you choose
A pound of weed, four guns and a liter of booze
Whup you nikkas out they shoes, what
Come and fukk with me, I can guarantee you'll be makin a lose
P flows like NO nikka, twenty-six but I'm a old nikka
Don't make me fukk around and n show nikkas
How to leave a room flat, twenty nikkas dead
No money, no jewels, bullets in they head
Ain't a nikka you know could fukk with the god
I said that was just a hobby, gun bust in uh job
But the sickest nikkas out is the bytchest nikkas out
And I could take em on the street and straight whip em in the house
Come through in the prettiest Porshe, the grittiest morse
State gotta talk till the city get hoarse
I'm the icin on the cake gangsta of the state
Guns, money you wait, who you fukkin wit dawg?
styles p is a rhyming machine that dude got sick rhyme patterns
A pound of weed, four guns and a liter of booze
Whup you nikkas out they shoes, what
Come and fukk with me, I can guarantee you'll be makin a lose
P flows like NO nikka, twenty-six but I'm a old nikka
Don't make me fukk around and n show nikkas
How to leave a room flat, twenty nikkas dead
No money, no jewels, bullets in they head
Ain't a nikka you know could fukk with the god
I said that was just a hobby, gun bust in uh job
But the sickest nikkas out is the bytchest nikkas out
And I could take em on the street and straight whip em in the house
Come through in the prettiest Porshe, the grittiest morse
State gotta talk till the city get hoarse
I'm the icin on the cake gangsta of the state
Guns, money you wait, who you fukkin wit dawg?
styles p is a rhyming machine that dude got sick rhyme patterns