Styles P - Uhh-Ohh lyrics

[Intro] Master of Ceremonies in the building Aiyyo Poobz, roll a whole zip up Yo Louch get like four bottles of Courvoisier Tell the soldiers bring like a hundred guns D-Block, forever, b*tch! Ha ha ha ha ha [Styles P] Say you gettin money but you not like me I heard your lil' raps but you're not S.P. Close your f**in mouth when you next to a G The Glock 500 but these bullets come free The money make the world go 'round, plus vertical From no car to a luxury convertible n***az that had love, now wanna murder you I be spazzin, blitzin like All Madden Me and this pretty honey sharin the orgasm I'm on the 'gnac and shorty on the merlot Fur coat, to the homey on the furlough Drivin to Myrtle Beach, slower than a turtle 65 there then, 65 back You can get a million dollars off of 65 stacks We neither here - we neither there but if the car smell like smoke then n***az'll freeze the air Spray the ozium, still break bread with n***az that move opium and still racketeer Huntin for money so run like a pack of deer If you ain't hand me clear that's why I'm clappin at'cha ear [Chorus: Styles & Sheek] Three guns on the set - which one you wanna hear? Got that paper on deck - throw that money in the air When I pull up in the front - all these n***az do is stare I'm a dream to these women - but these n***az nightmare (Uh-ohh!) (You say you gettin money but you not like me) (I heard your lil' raps but you not S.P.) (So close your f**in mouth when you next to a G) (Glock 500 but these bullets come free) (Uh-ohh!) [Styles P] The hardest out just got co*kier (ha ha!) Tell these rap n***az 'round they lil' posse up The cars got bigger, and the j**els 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 (get it?) My moms ain't home then go to her other house Real 'til I go to my father and lil' brother's house That's up in heaven n***a God forgive me for robberies, never was a beggin n***a Put thirty holes in you f**in with a 7 n***a You work for anybody that rap - whatever n***a! And I mean it, with no clique or no crew Bring the steam to you like the cleaners And I press you, and let you air dry And it's a wrap my n***a, that's your air time [Chorus] [Styles P] I live to see my young son turn into my older son Smokin weed, countin money with a loaded gun Never thought the platinum era's better than the golden one (NEVER) These n***az gon' see when the soliders come Titanium raps, lyrically lap n***az To tell the truth, none of us is on the same track You just came to the park, I'm runnin cross country like the Africans the ones that don't be stoppin when it's dark I'm just tryin to break the strip, you just tryin to clear the park You the arms, I'm the brain and the soul and the heart These them over your head bars Live n***a k**in you dead broads [Chorus]