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letra de pablo doe - styles p

[chorus: n.o.r.e.]
cocaine on the table, for the bosses and the soldiers
gotta be cairful on the block, [?] rollers
hold a pistola, [?] hard like ariola
and still hit me on that blackberry motorola
cause [?]
they notice me
stick up kids [?], they notice me
groupies with they ass out, they notice me
when it’s time to cash out, they know it’s green

[verse 1: styles p]
[?] on the block, on some rest in peace sh-t
hopping out the beemer, with the smg kit
[?]
touched on your cheek, cause you on some sweet sh-t
yeah i’m on a quest, but my name ain’t tip
imma tribe though, [?] k!llers in the [?]
s.p. the ghost, and i’m coming from y.o
why oh why [?] drink capachino?
[?] mc light, i got my mc [?]
but i get dark, when the beat [?]
[?] green beat, tougher than [?] street
talking size 38, call it the g heat
sawed off shotty, call it the [?]
send you to the spearet world, n-gga i’m ghostly
talking bullsh-t, don’t even aproach me
imma squeeze first, like i’m [?]
[verse 2: n.o.r.e.]
wake up in the morning, 4 5th to your face
that’s [?] that’s called scared straight
shoot you in the stomach, [?] that ass [?]
[?]
[?] love me, when i put in work
see they get word, that’s why people keep getting hurt
keep getting murked, put the kush in the sticky
the rest of that weed, straight suck like hickies
and i ain’t impressed, with all the tough talk [?]
[?] the crew, but a shooter when i’m single
[?] your legs, have you running like a track meet
and i got bullits same size as shaq feet
you running through the backstreets, catch him on the av, yo
hands in the air, give me everything you have, yo
strip you on the block, that’s called showing your ass, yo
have you running home to your moms, you chump assh0l-

[verse 3: styles p]
i need pablo doe, i rob, i don’t boro doe
[?] lotto doe
i need pablo doe, i rob, i don’t boro doe
[?] i got lotto doe
[?] party out in kyro, yo
life good, but you can get the hollo though
[?] the p-ssy, watch who you follo though
f-ck around, and you won’t see tomorrow, bro
[verse 4: uncle murda]
i don’t like broke n-ggas around me
they always begging, you know how they get down, [?]
i told my [?] yo, i got my own money
[?] i got my own money
and whoever i get on the record with
know that gangsta sh-t is what they better spit
they don’t want dudes in the city
talking ’bout how i k!lled the [?] get busy
i make the labels p. diddy them
forget about them like craig mack, i just biggied them
if i was god, i [?] knew j. read was a cop, i would’ve hit him
[?] with the c-ck
if i was neno, i wouldn’t have gave [?]
[?] still be s-xing g-money broad
tight jean n-ggas, man, this for the streets
you know i go extra hard, on them green lan beats

- styles p

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