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Sheek Louch - In / out (s.p.) lyrics

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In / out (s.p.) by Sheek Louch

Yo you gotta hear the sixteen I just laid B.G.
Oh word, that sh*t a hit, that sh*t sound crazy
Yo check the phone man, the phone was ringin before
Yo this the Ghost right here my nigga
Damn I missed my nigga call, check my messages
Yeah this P
To erase this message press seven, to save it press nine
Styles: Pick up ya goddamn phone man, I keep tryin to call you
Jesus Christ boy, one
Yeah, D-Block
Styles P you wit me dog?
Hell yeah, let's get 'em, let's go
(Sheek Louch)
You get smacked with the hammer nigga play your position
'fore ruger more done set it and you stay in in position
(Styles P)
Nigga I'll hawk your ass, wanna fit in my shoes
And you cowards can't walk my path
I don't know nobody f**kin wit us
I ain't Gerome Bettis but if I hit you it's gon feel like the bus
And you couldn't live this life and play this role
Like never part with your gun and stay this cold
Yo we in the streets where it's nothin but love
I'm them leather sh*ts, you the Michael Jackson glove
I'm in the hood cause I'm dedicated
If I was you I woulda never made it
I'm Holiday so I'm celebrated
We don't reminisce b**ch ass, remember that
Styles verse is the only thing gon bring it back
Tell the ghetto show discipline
I said Sheek gun Puerto Rican, bullets stay whistlin
(Chorus x2)
Sheek and SP in and out, all for the streets
Turn the bass up and try not to f**k up your seats
Rock that sh*t, every corner, knock that sh*t
Niggaz try to front on us, cock that sh*t
I guess I'm gettin older
Cause everybody that I thought was hot go inside the garbage folder
And nigga I'm from D-Block, I'm on 3-5-4
I keep my heat cock, and my blunt lit
The mack out, take a piece of your back out
Raise it to your cheek nigga, dare you to speak
sh*t I got plenty guns
And thugs that'll give a nigga a hug and say they stab anyone
You ain't never seen a nigga jaw hangin from his face
Sausage shaped red sh*t hangin from his waist
Nigga I'm well connected
By the time you hear this I'll be in jail but I probly got two cells
Yack in one hand, the other the lizm
And If I push you down and wet you it's not baptism
b**ch this is mafia
It won't stop til they put you in the dirt with the flowers on top of ya
Sheek goin broke is not in the plans
I could sell gloves to a nigga with no hands
A lot of niggaz screamin they wolf, but I'm feelin they sheep
I won't be happy til the niggaz asleep
I'll punch a niggaz nose in, duckin and bustin
Cuttin and cussin, hold that you b**ch ass nigga
And I could make the best die
Cut your throat open, pull your tongue through it
That's a f**kin neck tie
We turn b**ch niggaz skin maroon
Pump turn niggaz voices like they hit a helium balloon
If Christ is comin it oughta be now, I swear to God
Cause all yall faggot niggaz die according to Styles
What nigga you could get it for free
Put your money up, ain't nobody f**kin wit Louch and P
Yeah nigga that's what's up
D-Block til the death motherf**ker so our gats is up

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