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styles p - i don't give a fuck lyrics

(styles p)
hustle hard just to keep these streets locked
b-tch, i’ma d-block gangster, the one off keith lock
ryde or die n-gga that’ll let that heat pop
i go through walls, and y’all just sh-t rock
you don’t want your head in a bandage
i’m gunnin for bread, you don’t wanna be part of the sandwich
i’m eating n-ggas food, thought they harder than can b-tch
og sh-t stomp out their bandanas
pressure bust pipes, n-ggas asked if they fam lived
n-ggas don’t give a f-ck when they bustin them hammers
i don’t care if you dolo or with your set
i just know your head is comin off with your neck
you can catch me smoking a bag and i don’t throw signs
but if, n-ggas cross the line they gettin chocked with their flags
and the hood know i’m on some bullsh-t
you don’t tempt p to wild out and empty out no full clip
lock that strap, two guns up
in my black fatigue suit with my white sox hat
i k!ll your whole block b-tch my life’s like that
the hardest in new york cuz i’m nice like that
i use my knuckles to break jaws, the hawk’ll put a
hole in your torso and you know what the eigth’s for
headshots only
it’s far from the flinstones but you better believe it’s bed rock homie

i don’t give a f-ck never have never will
my only concern is how to live it up
i don’t give a f-ck, y’all could all get it so
if it’s going down know that i ain’t givin up
i don’t give a f-ck, that’s how the hood is
ask me what’s good i say two guns up
i don’t give a f-ck, sh-tty -ss att-tude
mad drunk and high, comin through yo what up

(sheek louch)
i don’t stop til the casket drop
moms is pop, face not showin like a number that’s blocked
unavailable, run in your crib
we the new york pirates of the f-ckin caribb’, motherf-cka
the barrel ’bout as long as a flute
left hand on my wrist, the impact make it bend when i shoot
so i get low, one binocular, like the opera
b-tch is gettin hit unless the n-gga lay on top of her
real talk, my bars and my flow
is the sharpest thing next to a hawk, get a fault
eat with your n-gga
don’t compete with your n-gga
’cause it’s love til the heat hit you n-gga
feel me, same jeans on for ten days
my re-up is heavy, your stash bout as light as a pen weighs
if you don’t want your side out
just stay home, when the real n-ggas ride out, hide out
’cause if i’m involved with it
i ain’t comin to scr-p
i’m pullin up with my sh-t on my lap
and i don’t mean hands together when i say i’ma clap
don’t be fools my guns can close down schools
with enough blood to fill up pools
ayo p, who you want to lay down
i can see these lil n-ggas movin up, like a ultrasound
when it pull off, i spin em around that’s for you

(jadakiss)
i seen it i did it i claimed
dreamt about it and became it
one blue steel, one stainless
i’ma d-block provider, although i do play a big part as a ryder
all my bullets move around when they inside ya
and n-ggas been foul since the days of elijah
yeah, the c0ke is garbage, the prices is unreal
feds hittin n-ggas with flat bids for gun sales
it ain’t a game neither, they givin rico to the gang leaders
tell you the truth to hit a bank sweeter
i got it mapped out
i got the game in a choke hold and i ain’t lettin go til y’all tap out
and this here, is a bonus rap
n-ggas is wired but everybody phone is tapped
every word that come out your face will come out in the case
slow a lotta n-ggas down, get ’em out of the race
it’s either hold water or you holdin’ a quarter
takin’ a chance, of never again holdin your daughter
least you could do is send ’em a kite
since it’s ramadan i only k!ll n-ggas at night
either the barrel of the gun or the tip of the knife
go head and beg for your life
so i can hurry up and ship you to christ
devoted, committed, by any means necessary
do whatever for me and my n-ggas to get it

- styles p lyrics

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