Styles For Free lyrics

Ride or die, I die to ride, but got to high to drive
Jumped in the driver's side, made a six and five collide
And I survived as my own violent co-pilot
In the passenger seat, blastin' the heat while I ghost ride it
Hit a tree, crash it, smash the dash's cheap plastic
Kill your boy and still avoid a six foot deep casket
Complete savage, on the streets with E tablets
While D's in a green caprese blasting three past it
It seems drastic, drunk in L.I.E. traffic
Forced to wreak havoc, with an ounce a week weed habit
But I keep at it, chase paper with a straight razor
Stumble home late night, and hate life a day later
'Cause life's a b*tch, who only treat you right when you twice as rich
But if you're broke, she'll cut your throat and slice your wrists
I'm might just flip, grab a big <--(?) cop by the weak spot
And drag him thru three blocks while other police watch
For warning, punks who grill like George Forman
'Till my four horsemen kick they second floor door in
Where cats record, smash the chord <--(?), snatch your broad
And choke you with the R.C.A. jack attachment chord
Y'all are strapped for war, clappin' back and fourth
As a last resort, I'll stab you with a plastic fork
But the streets is watchin', lots of birds gots some words
So while the block observes, I'mma lock his optix nerve
Just watch and learn, snatch a Glock from a cop's holster
Shower shots over the entire pop culture
I'm supposed to rap, see I knew my soul was blessed
When I could hold my breath long enough to see you choke to death
Both hands around your throat glands for a few crumbs
Drunk off Burbon, searchin' for stores to booze from
I ain't ask for nothing, school myself to catch corruption
Friends who'd snipe me, and wifey passing judgement
I learned most, with my first toke of sherm smoke
Was an accident, I put a hatchet in this turncoat
Took cheese and blew on gear for the ????
See y'all have something to wear when you're leakin' fluid bleedin' thru it
Under the influence, drivin' drunk, fryin' skunk
Pullin' over to throw a rising punch 'till both your eyes are lump
Got hash and endo right here, no job or resume
Just half a demo and the gear I was rockin' yesterday
I'm loosin' it, a lunatic who'd use a fist
To abuse your chick's uterus, when I throw bows like Ludacris
Your crew's too b*tch to fathom a magma shootin'
With the intension of apprehending your platinum crucifix
But knowledge is power, plus snatchin' wallets from cowards
Beats Bolic at tower workin' for six dollars an hour
Now the game's an open stage to release a prisoner
Who's aiming a loaded gage at the police commisioner
I took advantage, looked at a good book for answers
The Art Of War, painting masterpieces on a crooked canvas
Throw a right hook and land it, beat your weak jaw
With every freakin' cheek tore <--(?), screamin' he's raw
On Funk Flex front steps, 'till he unleashes C4
That'll be nuclear winter for the eastern seaboard <--(?)
My sh*t reaches each store, I play the hand I'm dealt
If not I'll fill my trunk and give 'em straight to fans myself
There's two dozen crews thuggin' that say that you nothin'
They say that you bluffin' 'cause of the place you grew up in
Now you ganstas and thugs hangin' in clubs, shootin' 'em up
With 22's on the truck and 100 proof in the cup
Controllin' blocks with coke and rock, holdin' Glocks
No you're not, prove it, shoot this patrollin' cop
Just load and lock the fullest clip you got then pull and click
Lick shots 'till bullets hit, if not you're full of sh*t!