Styles P - Know Me Like That lyrics

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Styles P - Know Me Like That lyrics

(Hook) Ye don’t know me like that I catch a hammy like that Ye don’t know me like that I don’t wanna go back (Verse: Gunplay) Ye don’t know me but you heard bout me Ye don’t know me but you worry bout me Heard I pull a coroner on a curve robbery Ye don’t know me but I bet yo b**h do I only know you from the things that a b**h do I post bail, no sweat, I’m all promise and you all sweat Try snitching, get you all wet My co-defendant gave a statement to the state He said he kept it real, but he kept it really fake Hella hate, yella tape Caught a body, beat the case, celebrate Not Brawlic, but I’m so Saudic Shoebox, no wallet, new gun bum, old problems (Hook) (Post-Hook) Ye don’t know me like that (Murs – Ye Don’t Know Me) I catch a hammy like that (Jail cell – Ye Don’t Know Me) Ye don’t know me like that (Fake friends – Ye Don’t Know Me) I don’t wanna go back (Shoot-outs – Ye Don’t Know Me) Ye don’t know me like that (n***a!) [Like that, like that, like that Hol’ up, ye don’t know me like that] (x2) (Verse 2: GUNPLAY) Ye Don’t Know Me like that, yeah, homie like that Leave a mark on his face, why did he blow me like that? Buck fifty, would be Coby like that Mean it, I shoot a lot I used to rock the mansons to get a lil cash So nice to hit the Buddha spot You neva knew who you neva know A lot say they ride but they neva rode Heavy metal in the console, I need a pedestal I used to be eager to be ignorant The block ran from a soul militant Now I’m coolin’ and livin’ innocent Ye don’t wanna leave it like that, ye want innocent (Hook) (Post-Hook) (Verse 3: Styles P) My worker got robbed, one of my homies got whipped My lawyer need a payment in child support labor My Porsche need ties and my Benz need bricks My plate need potatoes and my stomach need steak I grind like a slow jam on these streets AK in the bro hand, no ID, CL, no DLs, top speed Lights on in the club and I’m still not leavin’ I stash work in money crib, the cream While my big old chain is slammed in the rib How a presidential rollie leave ya residential holy Mind talkin’, got the stake to makin’ it with homies (Hook) (Post-Hook)