914 lyrics

by

Styles P


[Verse 1: Styles P]
Hell yea I'm pullin' my thang out, you gettin' banged out
b*tch n*gga, you sh*t done came out
Kick it with a 914 n*gga, four n*ggas beefin'
Guess what? my 914 n*ggas
I warn n*ggas like whoever will come through
My sh*t stay kicking so I'm calling it kung fu
Master my own style, punk show 'em what gun do
I'm lethal like a heroin bundle, yea
The beat rocks from Pete Rock, the flow from the ghost from D-Block
Four pounds send you to Esau, in other words Jesus Christ
Man, my sh*t stick together like beans and rice
All I need is weed at nights to smoke and rhyme
And I'm probably the nicest n*gga to breathe in light
And can't nobody prove me wrong, I'm to strong
And the motherf*ckin' street n*ggas need me right

[Hook: Pete Rock]
Ayo f*ck what you heard and what you thought you saw
Been all over the world reppin' 914
Styles P and Sheek Louch, they wild fo' sure
Been all over the world reppin' 9-1-4

[Verse 2: Sheek Louch]
Raised in the ghetto singing songs for survival
Late night, Valhalla, rollin' out the bible
914, every corner store got a n*gga with the raw
Just bring your straw
Piff by the O’s, pus*y galore
Little thief b*tches get the monkeys out the store
sh*t look real but a n*gga ain’t sure, yo
You know a real n*gga when you see him
Jewelry dripping, white tee, you wanna be him
Burner on him and don’t care about freedom
b*tches with him, other girls wanna' beat him
I’m trynna' stay alive, what up Mount Vernon?
Rest in peace two-five, Pete with the knot
Who else to ask for but Sheek from D-Block
Two guns down, calico up
I’m done here, pass my cup
[Hook] (x2)

[Verse 3: Styles P]
n*gga I get fresh like Easter
Who wanna get sliced like pizza, while I light my reefer?
You could come through with your crew n*gga
Burner go through n*ggas
One shot is knockin’ off two n*ggas
I might come through with the Uzi, shoot n*ggas
Filmin' on Fuji, put the sh*t in a movie
Who wanna' get burned with a loose?
Black tie affair, I grown up
You get stomped with the Gucci’s
You oughta' be playin’ me two feet
I don’t need five, I gotta' knife you ain’t leavin' alive
I said the green and cream Beamer is mine, the Z8
I see hate, you get the three-eight right in your eye
Yo Pete, play this sh*t for the street
n*ggas licking they heat, got a brick in the whip on the seat
Them n*ggas no different than me, so they listen to me
I understand all the sh*t that they see, what

[Hook] (x2)
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