[Chorus: Swizz Beatz & P. Killer] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] You dealin' with the streets, [YO!] you dealin' with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin' with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up! Y'all know who's in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] You dealin' with the streets, [YO!] you dealin' with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin' with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up!
[Verse 2: Styles P] It don't matter who you are, or what you say Ain't no rapper you name fuckin wit Styles And I'll probably die young, shot in the war But I ain't never give a fuck, and I always was wild And I'd rather have a open case, than an open face Kill every witness, I ain't goin to trial And everybody's a gangsta, nobody's pussy There's alotta niggas lying and I know who you are Next time I go to jail, I ain't gettin the bail I'mma kill a hundred niggas, right in front of niggas When cops come through, they gettin it too Goin out wit a bang, 'bout to start up a gang Cocksucker, it's the Holiday crew Get money, kill niggas, do robberies too Cuz you fuckin wit the grimiest, sheistiest Can't wait to die dog, life's a bitch
[Chorus: Swizz Beatz & P. Killer] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] You dealin' with the streets, [YO!] you dealin' with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin' with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up! Y'all know who's in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] You dealin' with the streets, [YO!] you dealin' with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin' with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up!
[Verse 3: Styles P] I'mma die screamin, fuck you, meet me in hell Cuz I still got beef on my chest, and it gets no deeper Look at the ink on my arm, I tattooed the reaper of death And they call me Holiday, I let a slug go in your shirt And wait for the leak in your chest I'll probably black out, think about my welfare days And times I had to sleep on the steps Niggas don't want it wit me, you could call me arrogant dog Until you get stabbed in the jaw P'll run up in the hospital, stab you some more Don't you fuck wit no nigga that be plannin for war I got slugs that go through you, put your man on the floor Purplest Porsche, mahogany seats, body your peeps Project was pussy and the lobby was sweet Niggas had alotta mouth, but they body was weak
[Chorus: Swizz Beatz & P. Killer] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] You dealin' with the streets, [YO!] you dealin' with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin' with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up! Y'all know who's in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] You dealin' with the streets, [YO!] you dealin' with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin' with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up!
[Outro: Sheek Louch] Who would you knock out for this nigga Or who would you shoot for this nigga? To me that shit don't mean nothing What would you give up for me? What would give up, some'ing that means something to you - for me? You're a motherfucking gangsta
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Genius Annotation1 contributor
The third track to the Style’s P solo debut album delivers a ferocious and realistic take on the crime life he’s lived and the depths of his heinous acts that he’ll commit to maintain it, he pumps out a booming voice over Swizz beat’s pumping bass
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