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Styles P – Rude Boy Hip Hop lyrics
That 187 when the ghost on spree
I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
It's 187 when the lights on spree
It's that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
Vocals out of the windpipe is giving you insight
Real New York nigga, that's word to the pin stripes
Can't fly the kite 'less the wind right
Blow the city up then skip on that Jeremy Lim light
Yeah, I'm a shooter like Glen Rice
Long range and the Range the color of corn
Watching the Bull game
Like bird in the garden with the leprechauns
Everything is money, upper echelon
Cheaper than the food in a Chinese restaurant
On the corner in the hood
They come to body a man, you'd warn them if you could
If you can't you body them niggas and leave 'em in the woods
Faith before favor, lighten our senses since Scarface here
Niggas will kill your family for Scarface bread
I'm on suicide dough, SP, the ghost on coast with no strap flow
What up
That 187 when the ghost on spree
I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
It's 187 when the lights on spree
It's that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
Lyricist, the weed is the therapist, the therapy
'Cause my pedigree is higher than yours will ever be
Devil got kicked out of heaven because of jealousy
Balls is like mental telepathy with melody
Niggas can't measure my wave length
Playing Max B when I'm pounding the pavement
You should get paid off the shit you engaged in
Fresh every day like the shit's an occasion
Tell my son to do what I say, don't do what I do
Did shit I shouldn't have done for a dollar or two
And you'll always be the leader, never follow the crew
Study today then peep what tomorrow could do
And you keep your ears open for wise words
The bird's the only animal that's meant to fly first
'Cause you crawl before you walk and you walk before you run
And you fly around the world and you shine like you the sun
That 187 when the ghost on spree
I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
It's 187 when the lights on spree
It's that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
It's 187 when the lights on spree
It's that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
Vocals out of the windpipe is giving you insight
Real New York nigga, that's word to the pin stripes
Can't fly the kite 'less the wind right
Blow the city up then skip on that Jeremy Lim light
Yeah, I'm a shooter like Glen Rice
Long range and the Range the color of corn
Watching the Bull game
Like bird in the garden with the leprechauns
Everything is money, upper echelon
Cheaper than the food in a Chinese restaurant
On the corner in the hood
They come to body a man, you'd warn them if you could
If you can't you body them niggas and leave 'em in the woods
Faith before favor, lighten our senses since Scarface here
Niggas will kill your family for Scarface bread
I'm on suicide dough, SP, the ghost on coast with no strap flow
What up
That 187 when the ghost on spree
I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
It's 187 when the lights on spree
It's that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
Lyricist, the weed is the therapist, the therapy
'Cause my pedigree is higher than yours will ever be
Devil got kicked out of heaven because of jealousy
Balls is like mental telepathy with melody
Niggas can't measure my wave length
Playing Max B when I'm pounding the pavement
You should get paid off the shit you engaged in
Fresh every day like the shit's an occasion
Tell my son to do what I say, don't do what I do
Did shit I shouldn't have done for a dollar or two
And you'll always be the leader, never follow the crew
Study today then peep what tomorrow could do
And you keep your ears open for wise words
The bird's the only animal that's meant to fly first
'Cause you crawl before you walk and you walk before you run
And you fly around the world and you shine like you the sun
That 187 when the ghost on spree
I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
It's 187 when the lights on spree
It's that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/s/styles_p/rude_boy_hip_hop.html
