Текст песни

Huh, I'm like, huh, huh
Huh, I'm like, huh, huh

Ayyo, first things first
It's time to shake ground in the eighth round
Box battle and break down
For the beak in the rhyme tone
Jump in the cyclone
S-T-Y-L-E-S, yes, I know

Give the rap scene vaccine
Packed red beam
Put 'em up, what the fuck?
You plucked a bad seed
Off the wall, spittin' the guerilla tag team
What's up now, duck down stuff that can't breathe

Yo, you know the routine, the demon effect
Please, don't step, you wanna be one of my pet peeves? (Uh)
The more beef the better; sound gay
But you all wanna sleep together, okay?
In the club, we don't sneak Berettas
Why not? We got so much street credit, the fuckin' police let us
Now that's bullshit (uh), 'cause we don't pack heat
So come and get your head crackin' up at me

Kick it, movin' it's on now
Makin' it punk loud
Shakin' the buck wild
Rapin' the punk style
Fakin' the funk pal
Dunk watch the punk
What now? Watch your battleship get sunk down
Click (click), pow (pow), nine (nine), thou (thou), what? Just what I thought what's up now?
Click (click), pow (pow), nine (nine), thou (thou), what? Just what I thought what's up now?
Huh, I'm like, huh, huh

Hold it down, never give in
Styles ever get limbs
Or whether you want it to end
Dirty syringe, I burn 'em again
'97, servin' them since
Or 30 your friends get knocked out, turbulent wind
Hopped out, what you want, bare bourbon and gin
I'm a fish, you can tell by the hookers and fins
Come on

Yo! I got a rock style
Pivot the offsprin' and joke with 'em
With a distorted guitar stream
Who am I? Russian roulette? Who and Tak?
Pushin' your bed hotter than Quebec in July
Area 5-1, stereo, rive gun live

Here we go, S-O-B, drop some
For the kids in the hall with the new block tape
Blast from both angles like Boondock Saints
So get up, get up and let the sound hit you
Snap this audio-style picture, uh!

Uh! Who the hell wear splittin' the belly up on a selfish?
Shinnin' in your style playin' the fell blitz
Drillin' your brain, like rap and video games
Spin the syringe, with the Styles, stick it into your veins

Yo! What kind of shit is he on? (Really, is Styles, really?)
Be on, C'mon punk fuck off, you really gotta be gone
Ripped out of your brain
Piss covered in shit to dispossess your B-game
Son of a bitch, I'm gonna start killin' for kicks
They're in an Air Force One, on the globe, I can't fit, get it?
I'm sick with it, when I spit the veno, and it drips up in it
And it gets the women in a quick dilemma, we can settle it now
And I don't know who did I, butt they said it was Styles

Click, pow, nine, thou, what? Just what I thought, what's up now?
Huh, I'm like, huh, huh
Huh, I'm like, huh, huh
Click, pow, nine, thou, what? Just what I thought, what's up now?
Click, pow, nine, thou, what? Just what I thought, what's up now?
I'm like, huh