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 b*tch, 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 f*cked 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 motherf*ckers 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, c*cksucker
I'mma let the heat pop

[hook]
Gots to switch my style
A lot of n*ggas biting it
They sh*t sound like mine
I might as well be writing it
Gots to switch my style
A lot of n*ggas licking c*ck
Fronting like the ghost
But them n*ggas 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 motherf*ckers little league
Gots to switch my style
Before I got to body something
n*gga, 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 sh*t, cry me a river
But n*ggas need they throats cut, slide me the scissors
No dare touchin us
And n*ggas call me Glade
Because if I don't get paid
I spray like air fresheners
A lot of n*ggas 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
n*ggas 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]