Styles P - What Up What Up lyrics

[Verse 1: Styles P] n***a you ain't safe tonight You runnin mouth I'll run in your house and strafe your wife They don't wanna see the general surface sh**, I throw the shoty to the genitals for general purpose A lot of n***as hope I would slip But I still got dope out of town and coke on the strip If I don't want you to talk or want you to walk Then Ima stab you in your tongue and poke up your hips You really don't want part of this war I'ma bring you to the house with garbage bags on the floor You don't wanna trade shots with the P I'll open your head like a had a doctors degree I'm a bust-gun-ologist n***a, what up, what up, what up You ain't met a n***a on some wilder sh** Wanna school the streets better come get a scholarship Cold hearted criminals who I get my dollars with sh** go wrong, same ones I bust the hollows with n***as think of murkin me Crackas think of jerking me Married to the streets, every days my anniversary Heres my presentation, n***a spark the weed up Thugs got they own nation, Ima be their leader Better read the Psalms to your man When I kick in the door with two nines in the palm of my hand And the only think Ima ask is who Ima blast [Hook: Styles P] All I do is get high and think of fading you off Stay blunted and red, with one in the head Holiday Styles, Call me S.P. n***a What up, what up, what up [Verse 2: Sheek Louch] Ay, Yo Ya'll n***as gon' listen I don't got a pot to piss in The nickled nine glistens It's a f**ing tradition I let it empty out Pop and rent the Bentley out Leave n***as dead till their skin colors' Saur Kraut I drink heavy liquor I'm on my Kelly sh** But over 18 with Louch I got a naked picture I'm in the crack building, around crack children Born that way and they mama ain't stop yet They keep smoking, Ima keep serving, that's a bet Call me a f**ing menace, I never learned tennis Only sport was pitching till the work finish n***as faces on the back of the milk Old n***as getting cut up in the back of the silk Rappin' the quilt is getting rapidly built Robert Reford couldn't control the castle I built Sheek Verses go through vests and polices shields [Hook: Sheek Louch] Let it empty out, trunk of the car Don't you forget it, everybody could get it Louch, the Gorilla, call me a f**ing menace What up, what up, what up [Verse 3: Jadakiss] Yeah Yo, I sit behind gates I'll never sign states Appreciate love, never mind hate I know I'm gon' perish, not before my time though Run up in his condo and throw him off the terrace If they ask me all I'm gon' say is that day I guess things wasn't falling his way Don't f** with J, cuz I never put the Tommy up Hit you and your mommy up Directly in the back of the head like I'm behind the truck In your Earth get the note, bullets burst in your throat More money more problems but its worse when your broke Everybody popping sh**, couple n***as get it on But not quite like David, Jason and Sean Double R, D-Block, live since beat knock Can't rely on the royalty check, I keep rock Keep haze, flip six pounds every three days And that's for like four years now, dog behave [Hook: Jadakiss, Styles P, Sheek Louch] n***as know, Jada invented the slick talk To K.I. n***as, kiss bullets or kiss [?] .40 cal kiss, nobody hotter than moi n***a what up, what up, what up All I do is get high and think of fading you off Don't you forget it, everybody could get it Jada, moi, S.P. n***a What up, what up, what up [Verse 4: Styles P] Everybody want Jesus to come, well I could send you to him And all I needs my weed and my gun I might shoot you on the stoop of the church, you's a ba*tard My bullets move faster then coups that I murk And I might need a sedative They say I'm cool and I drop a lot of j**els But I'm still f**in' negative Dog, I don't give a f** n***as couldn't picture that Stick you where you pitchin' at Asking where the bricks is at Any time I'm broke then my 9 mil is fixing that Don't make me have to lift your hat, bloody your shirt I'm in the cab when it go to get your mother from work And I always make use of my gun Hit the scene, shooting sh** to smithereens Like I'm Lucifers son And I always got [?] Bust my gun in broad day like I ain't got common sense And how foul could this karma be Still smoke a lot Still in the hood Still move coke in large quantities Dog, I could body you You ain't go to fear the real Maserati with the [?] on the steering wheel Yeah it's the Ghost again See the b**h in most of men To loud to shoot em, bring em over here I'm choking em Yeah, I'm respecting the [?], slice you neck and your ear And then torture you the rest of the year From the school of hard knocks so the lessons is here [Hook: Styles P] All I do is get high and think of fading you off Stay blunted and red, with one in the head Holiday Styles, Call me S.P. n***a What up, what up, what up All I do is get high and think of fading you off S.P. too foul to go to the mosque Every time I sleep I die, wish I was gone n***a what up what up what up