Switch My Style

Lyrics

[Verse 1] G-H-O-S-T Give me a G-U-N, and some S-M-O-K-E I'm on the B-L-O-C-K With a G-L-O-C-K With my bad bitch, and she came from BK Heard about the work, and they ran and told the D.A D.A. told the feds how I had it out in VA Now I'm on the L-O-W It's fucked up because all I tried to do was B-L-O-W Hate them R-A-T's Give me a M-A-C I'll make them motherfuckers RIP I'm in the H Double-O-D It's G Double-O-D I ain't a B or a C But you could believe I'm a OG A W Double-E-D in the O-Z 760LI and I'm low key S dot P dot W-W-W dot com, cocksucker I'mma let the heat pop [hook] Gots to switch my style A lot of niggas biting it They shit sound like mine I might as well be writing it Gots to switch my style A lot of niggas licking cock Fronting like the ghost But them niggas wouldn't lick a shot Gots to switch my style It's a 1,000 little me's Only thing, I'm majorin And them motherfuckers little league Gots to switch my style Before I got to body something Nigga, you ain't Styles Why you acting like you'll body something? [verse 2] R-U Double-F, R-Y-D-E D-B-L-O-C-K 'til I D-E I in the middle I'm hoppin out the sunroof So I'mma play the backseat ride in the middle On my Justin Timberlake shit, cry me a river But niggas need they throats cut, slide me the scissors No dare touchin us And niggas call me Glade Because if I don't get paid I spray like air fresheners A lot of niggas sound like I They don't get down like I I got the urge to treypound that eye From the 1st to the 3rd I can give you my word We got birds, not the type that fly around in the sky And I'm just trying to get in my place Do my thing, while you trying to be king I'm steady shooting for ace And my hoodie stay on, and the boots is laced You violate, you couldn't take what I'd do to your face One [hook] [verse 3] I'm from 354 with a 9 mm On my 38 waist in a 55 Benz Get it for 17, sell it for 28 If the money ain't straight, they gunnin the .38's It's 17 up in my Glock. 4 dutches a box 4 different drugs they sell in the spot And 911 mean they calling the cops We get the 411 from the fiend off the block I got a spot where it's 40 a bag Niggas old school, still drink 40's Keep stows and their rags Bust off the .40 cal. soon as I point at the fag So it cost P nothin just to 1 your ass [hook]