[Verse 1: Sheek Louch & Styles P]
Yo you gotta hear the sixteen I just laid B.G
Oh word, that shit a hit, that shit sound crazy
Yo check the phone man, the phone was ringin before
Yo this the Ghost right here my nigga
Damn I missed my nigga call, check my messages
Yeah this P
To erase this message press seven, to save it press nine
Styles: Pick up ya goddamn phone man, I keep tryin to call you
Jesus Christ boy, one
Yeah, D-Block
Styles P you wit me dog?
Hell yeah, let's get 'em, let's go
You get smacked with the hammer nigga play your position
Or rigamortis set in and you stay in in position
Nigga I'll hawk your ass, wanna fit in my shoes
And you cowards can't walk my path
I don't know nobody fuckin wit us
I ain't Jerome Bettis but if I hit you it's gon feel like "The Bus"
And you couldn't live this life and play this role
And like, never part with your gun and stay this cold
Yo we in the streets where it's nothin but love
I'm them leather shits, you the Michael Jackson glove
I'm in the hood cause I'm dedicated
If I was you I woulda never made it
I'm Holiday so I'm celebrated
We don't reminisce bitch ass, remember that
Styles verse is the only thing I'm bringin back
Tell the ghetto show discipline
I said Sheek gun Puerto Rican, bullets stay whistlin

[Chorus: Sheek Louch & Styles P]
Sheek and SP in and out, hard for the streets
Turn the bass up and try not to fuck up your seats
Rock that shit, every corner, knock that shit
Niggas try to front on us, cock that shit

[Verse 2: Styles P & Sheek Louch]
I guess I'm gettin older
Cause everybody that I thought was hot go inside the garbage folder
And nigga I'm from D-Block, I'm on 3-5-4
I keep my heat cocked, and my blunt lit
The mack out, take a piece of your back out
Raise it to your cheek nigga, dare you to speak
Shit I got plenty guns
And thugs that'll give a nigga a hug and say they stab anyone
You ain't never seen a nigga jaw hangin from his face
Sausage shaped red shit hangin from his waist
Nigga I'm well connected
By the time you hear this I'll be in jail
But I probly got two cells connected
Yak in one hand, the other the lizm
And If I push you down and wet you it's not baptism
Bitch this is mafia
It won't stop til they put you in the dirt
With the flowers on top of ya

[Chorus: Sheek Louch & Styles P]
Sheek and SP in and out, hard for the streets
Turn the bass up and try not to fuck up your seats
Rock that shit, every corner, knock that shit
Niggas try to front on us, cock that shit


[Verse 3: Styles P & Sheek Louch]
Sheek goin broke is not in the plans
I could sell gloves to a nigga with no hands
A lot of niggas screamin they wolf, but I'm feelin they sheep
I won't be happy til the niggas is sleep
I'll punch a niggas nose in, duckin and bustin
Cuttin and cussin, hold that you bitch ass nigga
And I could make the best die
Cut your throat open, pull your tongue through it
That's a fuckin neck tie
We turn bitch niggas skin maroon
Pump turn niggas voices like they hit a helium balloon
If Christ is comin it oughta be now, I swear to God
Cause all yall faggot niggas die according to Styles
What nigga you could get it for free
Put your money up, ain't nobody fuckin wit Louch and P
Yeah nigga that's what's up
D-Block til the death motherfucker so our gats is up

[Chorus: Sheek Louch & Styles P]
Sheek and SP in and out, hard for the streets
Turn the bass up and try not to fuck up your seats
Rock that shit, every corner, knock that shit
Niggas try to front on us, cock that shit