Lyrics:
style is all in me
Child, the whole damn isle is calling me
P-A-N-T-Y R-A-I-D-E-R, mad raw, I don't cry
Meaning no one can burn or toss and turn me
at all
Billy loves women like a junkie loves dope
Give him just enough rope the monkey's gon' choke
She's a Bill Blass combo maxed out mambo
D.K.N
on my window
So you see a n**** shining in the Benzo
Balling! Got me feelin' like Jim Jones, I'm a pimp though
No limp though, couldn't copy my style
Who wan come try, dis-respect
De mother yon chop upon dis head (chop man)
Mother knows every style, oh-wayyy ohh
The champagne drink, rock-n
in the club tryin to duck us (WHAT?)
And if you walk by n****, I'ma knock fire n****
from yo' a**, you can come try n**** (HEY!)
In the hood,
style gleama
Lex graffiti name Ramo, hold em we rollin
Askin me though, raps is hotter than, hot tamales in Toledo
Pussy that shit she passin off to me
Jipp Tripp
Buddha
Its a jungle in this b****
Its a jungle in this b****
That's why u see us always acting like we sum f****** animals
We some
ain't on my level even if we in the same buildin' on the same floor
Oh boy, black out, dough boy, cash out, payroll
Contract maxed out, cash kid, cash
Well, the throne looks delightful, and so does the queen
Fot just as long until she's out of style and discarded
She's trapped in a circle
Uh, just point out the bounce
Uh-huh, show me the bounce, yeah
Just point out the bounce, yeah
Timbo the king, yeah
Young Hov' the king, yeah
You a raw nigga then roll up
Bless with this shit hold up
Dabbered out when I run it down
Kings in this bitch royal style
Roll up, roll up, roll up
B Side, B side, ha, check it
So So Def ... Bad Boy ... collaboration
The Notorious BIG in the house
We got Da Brat in the house
And me, y'all
the news when we start formin'
Snatch stripes off a nigga's uniform often
Doin it past yo' delf you way out your jurisdiction
Why niggas bullshit
single person is a Slim Shady lurking
He could be working at Burger King, spittin' on your onion rings
Or in the parking lot, circling, screaming, "I
comin' clown then I'm going get the cannon
And then get God back
Knuckle up boy, don't be no fucked boy
Me and Guillotine we run some niggas
In a big truck
my physcotic if you want to,
But if I can't have you, he can't too
Cause cops will show up in the middle of the night,
crimes and passion, we gon' be
of the original
Orphaned trio, abandoned by lyrical
Through us, the echelon exposed with the roll with no soul
Counterfeit style, born sworn and sold
Out with
Washington to claim the crown
Let the whole world know that, the King was in town
As I, arrived, the crowd started to cheer
And then someone yelled out
sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
You make all your animal deals and
Your wise men don't know
in Hurricane Betsy
1965: I ain't too young to know this
That was President Johnson but now it's (Georgia) Bush
We from a town where (Georgia)
is Diggey Das E.F.X'n
We flexin', cause kid we got this rhyme and took effect y'all
Aye yo I figgety flow I rocket blow a nigga out the socket
ambush like a dirty douche in ya tush
When I push, push up in ya bush
Superstar status, break off beats, the baddest
Style's the baddest, bring extra clips
Funky
Ready
Funky, funky
One two, one two
We came here to do the motherfucking do
You and the crew
Got my man Marley Marl in the house
Can't
me shawty, but I been watchin' you now for a while
Yo whole style, from yo toes to the way that you smile
And I hope you ain't offended by the way
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