Styles P - U Told Me lyrics

(Sheek ad libbing) [Sheek] Now you can quote me on this I bust my gun Also quote me on this I handle my biz I knew it was my house when Run was sayin it was his I ain't lyin Ain't no cords or no steam in this iron But it is a permanent press Have these 38 shells spray starch your chest Leave you stiff Coroners make ashes of you In rap I'm like God n***a forever above you If I don't do it all I just dial my phone And you get sprayed through your clothes like you put on cologne If it's not violence or d** I have nothing to spit I be lyin if I talk some spiritual sh** Like Kirk Franklin and them Y'all just ain't me I can't tell you about God but I can tell you about a key And what I'll do to God's children if they jerk me Hurt me , never , that'll be a sin I'mma put the Bible to your head and shoot through Matthew verse 10 What C'mon n***as What CHORUS 2X: [Eve and Jadakiss] You told me you would bust your guns for me (Yeah bust your gun dog) You said you'd always sling your pounds (Sling the hydro green) Now you're away and you're all that I need (You're all that I need baby) But L-O-X will hold it down (You know the LOX gonna hold it) [Jadakiss] I'm back in the game I still ride the back of the train And sit right next to jake with a package of caine n***as say he realer than me you call him a liar I got the Audi T T the same color as fire You just gettin a name Puttin sh** in the game Stop fakin I have your doorag lookin Jamaican Holey as the water in the front of the church Then find you with no back plus one in your earth I can't wait for the day you get murked Cuz I'mma throw a free party at the Tunnel and give out work I love myself , my family , and love my son Love my n***as and love white Air Force Ones And besides that I'm open off the dro and the guns And the head you could get from a ho in the slums n***as always act silly till you show em the milly Then they got the nerve to ask you why you wanna k** me Uhh CHORUS 2X [Styles] I know it ain't right For me to swear to God But I swear to God that I'll murder you dog And I know it ain't right For me to sell dope Rob stores but I still gotta run from the law Twenty n***as in the clique How all of us pour In a three room apartment and we all on the floor I reflect to the days I thought of bustin the whip Now I come through the scene and n***as cuffin they b**h Feel good to see Kiss spend a buck on his wrists Or Sheek frontin on a jet ski with a Puerto Rican chick I dont rock no j**els But I pops my tools And I work my coupe to do a buck 68 P hit you in the head like a dutch to the face Or a cup full of liquor Come and f** with you n***a Cuz I make drug money Gotta take blood from me If you wanna prove a point pull a joint shoot dummies CHORUS 3X