Love My Style Lyrics

Two thou I was outside with the family

Coppin' trees paying low fees for a grammie

If it wasn't spliffs, pickin' sis up from nanny

Tryna make it home to watch Jamie Foxx for Fancy

Known for starting trouble like McDonald's on Delancey

Labeled as a failure no results to prove it clearly

Shouts to Mr. Bailey, barely, fuck with tutors rarely

Teachers pet, treat on desk, just ain't appeal me

I was having dreams and the streets didn't scare me

Posted on the block up top that's Camby

You thinking like Spree but for me understand thee

Come up, still the come up til' next stop the Grammys

And freaks in Miami, the suites with no panties

They crept in the room with the Ri Ri jammys

Fenty shit, empty clips when riffin' on beats

So when I reload I promise that I'm spittin some heat (I know ya!)

I put it down something serious live from the A

And every rhyme that I say, is done a marvelous way

For money I missed in April imma charge 'em in May

Hanni Fresh provide the sounds the ghetto orchestra play

Lemme show you how I cooked the style

Mix a Queens putrid child, raise him there

Move him South, send him through ruthless trails

Give him beats, music sounds

Battle niggas, proving grounds

Show 'em you can do it now

Time for you to prove it now

Move around the city slow, never at a hurry pace

Stuck with a blurry face, thanks to Mr. Blurry Face

Flow cash money think shots Stephen Curry takes

Tryna see thirty-eight and never want a dirty eighth

Queens Get The Money thats the attitude

From Flushing to Jamaica Avenue

So talk nice or don't open ya yap

And the style you don't like it, nah you love in fact, And that's that

Top tier I'm that good

Spliffs full of that good

Good on any MLK boulevard I'm that hood

If the wings slap then I'm pulling up to that hood

I ain't gotta act hood, frontin' you know that could

Leave you on a back stood, stiff like a Mack hood

Peace out to Mac hood, New York to the backwoods

Need to quit my vices should to pass as Robert Pack would

Nobody stoppin' this you can argue with a backwood

Pussy! I'm down for whatever takes

Made hella mistakes

It's real go to hell with the fake

Clever & shaped to stand up malevolent snakes

Can never relate, we live from a prevalent state

And we keep it hip-hop so we never disgrace

The legends & greats, get cake, 50 & Banks

Flow nasty I don't play nice, never dealt with stage fright

Rising like elevators cuz I punch like Ray Rice, that ain't right