Styles P - Don't Be Scared lyrics

[Intro: Styles P] Bullpen, G-Host, D-Block [Verse 1: Styles P] If I say so myself, we the best When the lead pop, it's headshots, you don't need a vest D-Block, LOX, we don't see the rest My blade cut a thousand n***as, that's a key of flesh You either (-) or (-) squeeze the TECs I blow a smoke with the Ghost, bars speakin' d**h I keep her wet, straight cash, yo, I'm 'bout paper Pay (-) bars, every line another (-) Bullpen style, k** you now, rhyme later I clip from a block away, nine with the laser They can hate us, but they know they can't never play us We heat-sprayers, plus you know the streets made us Live life to the fullest because d**h is waitin' Too wild of an animal for domesticatin' Get a room full of rabbits and I'm defecatin' Fully-loaded gun, no hesitatin' I heard your gangsta rapper name resonatin' We don't believe you, you'll never make it Discipline - the term meant dedicated Educated, actin' on medicated Weed high, liquor high, drug dealers, stick-up guys LOX, Wise Guys Enterprise You ain't got to cop it, we got you, you could rent a pie God, forgive me for contributin' in genocide The cranberry Beamer, MAC-10 and the nina Smokin', visions of Mecca and Madīnah Mobster, k** you, send a fixer and a cleaner [Hook: Bullpen] (x2) You look scared, lil' n***a Don't start hangin' 'round here, lil' n***a This sh**'ll get you the chair, lil' n***a We makin' ourself clear, lil' n***a [Verse 2: Bullpen] n***a, we in here, it's me and (-), lodge 'em out the bullpen Remember gettin' processed, sittin' in that bullpen Thinkin' to myself, 'If n***as rattin' and some bullsh** I'm comin' home dumpin' out that clappin'-up-your-hood sh**' I had dreams of gettin' hood rich This year, approachin' six figures, life good, b**h And I admit, yeah, I love f**in' a hood b**h Give her good dick, she ridin' out with that wood grip The front page of them tabloids About paper, known for movin' grams and mad toys Real n***a never back down, quit the fight I lose, I'm like (-) when he told (-), 'Hit the lights' Speak the truth, know these frontin' n***as can't stand facts Pops taught me Santa Clause wore a Klansman's hat And he rolled through the night like the Klu Klux So I flipped Os of the white for a few bucks Yeah, I guess I see what they can't Do what they won't, then have what they don't Ride to work raw, where the work, y'all, I sit and curse, y'all Lodge the bullpens, Clayton Kershaw Lookouts in the buildin', play the first floor Yeah, it's D-Block, n***a, we come with the pain Gonna cause straightjackets and shackles and chains If it's drama, come and get you, ain't callin' your name We roll up on you like them n***as that howl in pain