Thug Style lyrics

by

Curtis Mayfield


[Intro]
f*ck 2Pac that n*gga ain't sh*t
That n*gga ain't from muhf*ckin' New York
That n*gga be out there with them Cali n*ggas
Yo n*gga man f*ck 'Pac that n*gga West Coast
That f*cker that always with them New York n*ggas
Seen them with that n*gga man that n*gga ain't from the West Coast
Man f*ck 'Pac f*ck that n*gga that n*gga ain't really down
Rapin' ass n*gga I didn't do it f*ck it with that n*gga
f*ck that n*gga man f*ck that n*gga let that n*gga go to jail right
And f*ck that n*gga f*ck that n*gga f*ck you too n*gga

[Collision]
I'm in this, motherf*cker
I guess these muthaf*ckas tryin' to take me out the business right
I guess I ain't East Coast enough for my n*ggas back in New York
And I ain't West Coast for these n*ggas on the West huh?
f*ck e'rybody

*laughing*
Thug style out this, motherf*cker, n*ggas, throw ya hands in the air
If you got jeep make ya speakers pop
I want motherf*ckin' police tryin' to pull n*ggas over on this one
We takin' this one to the whole 'nother level gutter style thug style
You feel me, things that we can only do as a real G
We ain't dead yet
[Verse 1]
Hit me, I got my Hennessy find ya foes
In a room full of n*ggas tryin' to hide ya hoes
I'm gettin' high off buddha 'cause the times be slow
I keep my mind on dough you never find me broke
And who me? A n*gga livin' life like a G
And that artillery keepin' n*ggas off of me
I can't sleep livin' in these wicked times, peep
n*ggas after me 'cause they see I'm stackin' G's and heat
You can holler if you want to, please!!
I ain't runnin' with no punk crew be, bleed!!
Enemies and my range is on, you're in the danger zone
My f*ckin' game is strong, now hotline
You suckas better find ya mind I got mine
From hustlin' and bustin' them rhymes
To my n*ggas up in Quentin, down on Rikers Isle
Stay rile, but a n*gga gotta use his styles

[Chorus]
These, n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style
These, n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style
[Verse 2]
I could be wrong but I never got along with cops
It's like they stuck from makin' n*ggas duck from Glocks (Freeze!, Freeze!)
And all the time, my mind's full of thoughts of ends
I'm still rollin' my bucket but I bought me a Benz (Tadow)
My fake friends say they love me but I know they lie
'Cause in the dark see they hearts full of homicide
My mama cried when they took me off to jail
Only me inside the cell, straight locked up in this hell
I hear some sucker screamin' like the demon's inside
Will 'em away in the mornin', only the strong survive
I cry, but in my own way swallow my pride
Pick a reason to hide from all the n*ggas that die
Cemetery full of brothers I buried it's goin' down
Even now I wonder will I still be around
My hometown is the gutter I was born a wild
I came up out this dust with my heartless style

[Chorus]
These, n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style
These, n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style
[Verse 3]
I remember Uptown, run catch a kiss
Listenin' to Mr. Magic cuttin' up the hits
And even though I had a habit
Makin' words rhyme I was caught up in the madness
Juvenile thugs come on
I tell the whole story nothin' but truth
Halloween throwin' eggs from the project roofs
And Pete and Lee young G's with a gift of gab
Tryna hook up with the hookers who was quick to stab
Remember mama's cookin', no school straight hookin'
And tryin' to get with light skinned 'cause she good lookin'
And jumpin' over turnstiles 'cause we ain't payin'
Call the cuties cuss words (Bee-yotch!) but we only playin'
I'm prayin' I can get a buck no luck
I had to move around a lot 'cause my moms was stuck
I had family but I was way too wild
Had to move to the West to regain my style

[Chorus]
These, n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style (scream)
n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style (my n*gga scream)
n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style (scream)
n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style (scream)
n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the cross, but my force was wild
b*tch-made ass n*ggas don't know my style
These, n*ggas don't know my style
Crooked smile, juvenile, was a problem child
Try to put me in the mothaf*ckin' cross, but my force was wild
Mothaf*ckin' b*tches

[Collision]
Swear y'all know a n*gga
You ever heard a motherf*cka say:
"All in the Kool-Aid, don't know the flavor"? Haha
You mothaf*ckas all in my mothaf*ckin' LB and don't know the beat, haha
This sh*t thuggish, for life, I told y'all, it's album three, see
G sound, freestyle
Motherf*ckin' Young Thugs in this motherf*cker, that's right
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