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letra de uh-ohh - styles p

[intro – styles p]
i heard you gettin’ money but you’re not like me
i heard your little raps but you’re not sp
so close your f-ckin’ mouth when you’re next to a g
glock 500, but these bullets come free

[verse 1 – styles p]
money make the world go ’round, plus vertical
from no car to a luxury convertible
n-ggas that had love now wanna murder you
i be spazzin’, blitzin’ like all madden
me and this pretty hunny sharin’ this -rg-sm
i’m on the ‘gnac and shorty on the murlo
fur coat to the homie on the furlo
drivin’ on murder beach, slow than a turtle
65 there then 65 back
you could get a million dollars off of 65 stacks
we neither here, we neither there
but if the car smell like smoke then n-gga febreze the air
spray the ozium, still break bread
with n-ggas that move opium and still racketeer
huntin’ for money so run like a pack of deer
if you ain’t heard me clear that’s why i’m clappin’ at your ear

[hook – sheek louch]
three guns on set, which one you wanna hear
got the paper on deck, throw that money in the air
when i pull up in the front, all these n-ggas do is stare
i’m a dream to these women but these n-ggas; nightmare
yeah, uh-ohh!
i heard you gettin’ money but you’re not like me
i heard your little raps but you’re not sp
so close your f-ckin’ mouth when you’re next to a g
glock 500, but these bullets come free
uh-ohh!

[verse 2 – styles p]
the hardest out just got c-ckier
tell these rap n-ggas round they little posse up
your cars got bigger and your jewels got rockier
but the ghost move just like the mafia
you wanna know what i’m talkin’ ’bout
knockin’ i ain’t home then go to my other house
my moms ain’t home then go to her other house
real till i go to my father and little brother’s house
that’s up in heaven, n-gga
god forgive me for robberies, never was a beggin’ n-gga
put 30 holes and you f-ckin’ with a 7 n-gga
lyrics for anybody who rap; whatever, n-gga
and i mean it
with no cl!ck or no crew, bring the steam to you like the cleaners
and i’ll press you and let you air dry
yeah it’s a rap, my n-gga, that’s your air time

[verse 3 – styles p]
hope to live to see my young son turn into my oldest son
smokin’ weed, countin’ money with a loaded gun
never thought the platinum era’s better than the golden one
these n-ggas gon’ see when the soldiers come
t-tanium raps
lyrically lap n-ggas, to tell the truth; none of us is on the same track
you just gettin’ to the park
i’m runnin’ cross-country, like the africans, the one’s who don’t be stopping when it’s dark
i’m just tryna write the script, you just tryna play the part
you the arms, i’m the brain and the soul and the heart
these them over-your-head bars
live n-gga, k!llin’ your dead bars

- styles p

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