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styles p – i’m home lyrics

[verse 1]
in your ear like a q+tip
on it like a phone
n+ggas talk that sh+t like i wasn’t coming home
it wasn’t about me
if it was i woulda aired y’all n+ggas out the same day that i got out
but just to talk sl!ck
and make n+ggas sick, suck d+ck if you a n+gga to doubt me
yeah, let me talk slow with ’em
i don’t get dough with ’em i collect four hit ’em
nah, you ain’t a hombre of mine
surprised to see me hop out a hyundai with nines
hustle so hard in the hood so much that n+ggas call me up to remind me i rhyme
sh+t is haywire and you wanna play sides
when it’s so much gunfire that n+ggas going blind
nah, i don’t feel you n+gga
and it won’t be long ‘fore i peel you n+gga

[verse 2]
i don’t wanna k!ll you
i just want you paralyzed
f+cking up your spine so you can take time to +n+lyze
wrong one to f+ck with is p
you don’t wanna duck, it’s gonna hit your head and then touch your knee
can’t y’all see that we different kind of n+ggas
y’all the rappers with cops, we the rappers with k!llers
got to be under the ground to understand it
and i put you under the dirt when i shoot underhanded
now i’m back on my grind like i’m f+cked up
truth is i’m couped out, sedan’d out and trucked up
yeah, and it’s a lot of n+ggas mad at me
but i got knifework and they don’t wanna stab at me
and i’m good with a pistol
probably got the same one that that cop with you issued
i say what i do, and i do what i say
so when you hear me pop sh+t, b+tch, it’s official
[verse 3]
new york city is grittiest
y’all n+ggas wanna be the prettiest
can’t be serious
my attitude’s the sh+ttiest
flow still hideous
tryna make you bleed like a chick on her period
had to switch my style up
feds on my back had to switch my vials up
n+ggas got my flow like i’m selling it
i don’t know these n+ggas from a can of paint, this sh+t is irrelevant
matter of fact i would call it inappropriate
you wasn’t an associate
you ain’t have a chair at the table when i was down in chinatown getting opium
you ain’t a gangster like me
a n+gga owe cash you ain’t f+cking breaking ankles like me
who am i?
ghost or the g+host, host of the g’s
n+gga in the hood squeezing toast at the d’s
new york i’m responsible for most of the p’s

- styles p lyrics

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