G-Joint

[Styles P]
I rock the fuck out ????
I don't know about everybody else

[Verse One: Styles P]
Whatever we don't make, we gon' take muh'fucker
Get this straight and fix yo' face
I ain't got ta sell millions
I'm in the buildings
Where papi comin' through wit them bricks by 8
Listen cocksuckin' clown, I'll be leavin' you cut
You're like a dutch, how I'm bustin' you down
Nigga drivin' in a circle wit'cha ho in the back
Be the only damn way I be fuckin' around
And I'm aimin' for your waist, hopin' you duck
So I can bust you in the head when I'm buckin' the pound
And I told you that I'm Holiday Styles, let's celebrate
Heard you gettin' money, I'll rob you right now
And you gon' get popped in the head, true story
Crips do they thing in blue, Bloods pop off in red
Me, I'm on the move only stoppin' for bread
Double R and D-Block nigga, copper and lead, whattup

[Styles P]
Stay in the zone

[Verse Two: Styles P]
I don't know why the fuck you amped yo
Got hoodrat bitches, carryin' birds on the public transpo'
Niggas in the hoods that go out like Rambo
They hot since 138th had that ????
Young Buck...dumb fuck
I'm two guns up, ryde or die 'till the sun's up
Gangsta and a gentleman dog, I got class
I'ma send a bunch a roses to your men in the morgue
I'll be down South bendin' a whore, ten in the morn'
Dirty on 85 like Jay, Barnes, Sean Paul
Beef with New York rappers, I'm killin' 'em all
On my Slick Rick shit, y'all could lick the balls
I been cool cause these niggas is ass, but fuck that
Might as well call me pool cause I'm gettin' 'em splashed
And that Lamborghini liftin' the stash, even gettin' the mass
Or some haze to mix with the hash, whattup

[J Hood]
Pass that blunt nigga

[Verse Three: J-Hood]
I'm in the hood where the eggs get knocked off (yea)
Gang members find they family members with both of they legs chopped off
Niggas ain't scrappin', they bangin' ya (yep)
The judge don't need a tree branch when they hangin' ya (nope)
All y'all fags'll get ate like clams
Since this is a Bloodsport bitch, you could call me J Van Dam
All these so called guerillas be tellin'
How a rat gon' give you thoughts of a predicate felon (fuck that)
Muh'fucker, homey what you want, the blade or the slug (chu want)
I'm the one that sent the order when they sprayed up the club (me nigga)
Bitch nigga, bow your head in the presence of G's
Load the lead up and squeeze
I'ma great dane, niggas is fleas
Fuckin' rats can't wait to call cops
'Til I make 'em sick and put pellets in they mouth like cough drops (hold that)
J Hood bitch, my name ring in the ghetto (J Hood)
Cause I'm O.G. and I play the streets like a cello