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i get it in - styles p lyrics

[chorus: sheek louch]
now i don’t leave the house without my shotty
it ain’t that i’m tryna hurt n0body
but n*ggas wanna act like they won’t get smacked up
i put it to they chest, and i leave them clapped up
my nina hold ten, it hold ten
[?] i get it in
i get it in
my record [?] spin
f*cking [?] gon’ win
[verse 1: sheek louch]
four four [?] shiney as f*ck, yo
i like the rubber grip, cause it hurt when the gun blow
black mask on, outside of your condo
i used to move the rock, and dish it off like rondo
[?] on the block, always yelling ’bout [?]
i scate on these n*ggas, like i’m out in toronto
black [?] challenger and it sit low
i told you i’m the motherf*cking man from the get go
i know a lotta things, and i know what i don’t know
po po, n*ggas be rapping all so so
singing on thеse records, like k*ci and jojo
skinny jеan wearing n*ggas, shopping at so ho
no go, you make me go [?]
these lil n*ggas out here, sweeter than coco
depression, recession, got a n*gga with no dough
been all around the world, ho, i told you i’m global
i can’t walk around without them taking my photo
i move on these n*ggas, like i’m sparring with [?]
big dawg, you just a lil pup like todoe
stop lying n*gga, from my truck you might go
all these n*ggas here softer than [?]
sheek a sure thing n*gga, y’all n*ggas might blow
lost a lil weight on the [?] no lypo
hit you with the hatchet motherf*cker, i’m michael
myres, the plires pull t**th out
ask these n*ggas what the beef ’bout
[verse 2: styles p]
[?] get it in, hit him in the chin
the size of the slug like the [?] on the rym
i don’t give a f*ck, when i’m dippin in the benz
cause i’m tryna get drunk, drinking liquor with my friends
coke, we get it in
then we get it out
your head’s like a baseball, n*gga, i hit it out
my raps like a raizer, my n*gga, i spit it out
think about money, and days i did without
cowboys and indians, n*gga, i’m what you scout
gun with the laser, my n*gga, all in your mouth
coke in the trunk, my n*ggas be going south
and they don’t give a f*ck about no godd*mn drout
i was hood rich before i had rap clout
somebody getting clapped, if i pull that out
i be in the block, [?] rolling a [?]
[?] rap b*tch with the gat tucked
n*gga, drive by, hop out with a back up
leave n*ggas shot and stabbed, homie, that’s us
know about the work, hit him where it hurt
gun or a knife, or a bottle to a verse
b*tch standing there, imma go up in the perse
try to act dumb, that’s only gon’ make it worse
i don’t go to church, i be on the block
[?] squeezeing on the glock, [?]
[chorus: sheek louch]
now i don’t leave the house without my shotty
it ain’t that i’m tryna hurt n0body
but n*ggas wanna act like they won’t get smacked up
i put it to they chest, and i leave them clapped up
my nina hold ten, it hold ten
[?] i get it in
i get it in
my record [?] spin
f*cking [?] gon’ win

- styles p lyrics

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