lirik lagu styles p - so appalled (freestyle/remix)
[verse 1: jadakiss]
so sick of it
run up in your crib, just for the sake of stickin’ it
yeah, i’m ridiculous
i know this is kanye’s track, but i’m kissin’ it
still laughin’ at these cats, like i’m ticklish
just somethin’ about that sh-t, i like flippin’ it
the world’s back on my d-ck, i’m mike vick’n it
c-ck back and squeeze, only right that you squirt off
soon as i leave the building, they turn the alert off
only thing i need to know is can you knock the work off
fifth ave, spendin’ crack money up in bergdorf
leave that boy alone; i wouldn’t recommend it
half a mil worth of v-v’s, independent
everything is splendid, all fine and dandy
hood-rich is one point nine off the candy
[?] sweat suit, thermal on with the [?]
grilled tilapia, steamed salmon, or the scampi
snakes still squirmin’; haze off sherm, and
block is like the nickel boy days in the vernon
chrome four-fif’n, cause they still snitchin’
the pool’s in the living room, swim to the kitchen
i’m so appalled; i’m better than ’em all
i rip an arena just like a hole in the wall
spend a few stacks on some hoes in the mall
real n-ggas is either in the hole or the morgue
enemies is cool, loved ones’ll hurt you
dishonor before death, yeah, vice-versa
elegant performance, my stash is enormous
real talk: new york’s been mine for the longest
strong ones’ll make it, weak ones’ll suffocate
i keep it in the ‘hood, so it’s easy to resuscitate
life’s like a milk crate, nothin’ like a beach, kid
good cardigan over the true’s, nice feet-wear
yeah..
[verse 2: styles p]
yeah
hustle like an african, mother from the motherland
work in the zip-lock, money in the rubber band
if the cops don’t blitz, then i’m lucky
i want the eighth floor of the ritz, like nucky
empire, like a-c from k-c
kitchen cook; step up in the spot, all the b-tches look
eastbound down like kenny powers
bricks is in the dodge neon, but it’s hemi-powered, any hour
this could be a seven-digit flip
send a kite to the bing to get seven n-ggas ripped
get the top ten list and get seven n-ggas clipped
i used to just ride on the seven bus
now i let it bubble like seven-up
that was five sevens, you could die with a three in front
need money, need p-ssy, need liquor, need a blunt
wanna f-ck with me, n-gga? you gon’ need a gun
money over b-tches, but respect over money, though
loyalty’ll have you on the boat to the bungalow
what you know about eatin’ with the old man?
tell the truth, this rap sh-t wasn’t in the program
sittin’ on crates, to pickin’ up weight
you gotta lift open the crate; tryin’ to get my n-ggas straight
ridiculous, i would even say this on tape (ayo kiss)
and you say new york city, that the world is very different now
gun-light is my phone, real easy to lift it now
i’m so appalled
shoot the pallbearers at your motherf-ckin’ funeral and treat ’em like dogs
cause it’s a motherf-ckin’ war
n-gga! d-block! act like ya know, b-tch!
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