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I Got U
DJ Kay Slay
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
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Bris-Style (Yeah)
S.P (Uh-huh)
I got you (I know, Brooklyn)
In more ways than you could imagine nigga
Yo, I'm major like the league, since a teen I supplied the fiends
Crack, coke, dope, no consignment see
Talkin' bout the music, please don't confuse it
So good, people all ages wanna use it
White boys pullin' out nooses
On they own self, use it, yeah use it
I'm tired of critics fussin'
Rather be in Costa Rica on the beach
Butt naked, 'bout to skeet somethin'
Brooklyn, we got the need for nothin'
Go 'head, send shots through your fleece
Or somethin' for frontin'
Brisbane put CL 6's
Hit the block, cause I got 37 longs, gone like Knickses
Want a hot 16?
I could give you a verse or got a 9 that spit hot 16
Frontin' like I got a high school team
I'm on the strip spittin' verses
This how I live my life
Bet a hundred thousand you won't roll 6 on them dice
If you want, you can raise the price
Before that, all I did in the hood was heist
Cock suckers
Covered with a pist-al
'Bout to make this shit wild
Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)
Takin' off everything
The chain and the coat
And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)
Layin' in the hospital
Wires on top of you
And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)
Buckin' at your enemies
Suckin' on Hennessy
Fuckin' with the Kennedy's
Yo, it's Bris-Style and Styles P
In the crib, we keep O's in the front
And the back like a Audi
Don't come around me
Givin' fake daps, fake hugs, fake love
I'mma show you a real thug
I'mma put 'em in they place
Take it back to '83
Start punchin' niggas in the face
Now they lookin' for God like Ma$e
When they worship the devil
Run and get your medal, you don't own no iron
Don't come with a aluminum bat
I put two in them cats
I'm familiar with the white whale, Martel
Not Jordan cause he fell, gettin' knocked, Carmel
Make bail, but see, Bris never tell
Nigga I'll fight your pops, not for props
You the type to run in the crib and call the cops
Hops imitator, I'm like a senate ticket to the hole
Penetrator, don't believe in hatin' the haters
I'mma find 'em, kill 'em, peel 'em
Walk on 'em like gators
Then extort your neighbors, Bris-Style, Styles P
Lox and Kennedy's don't need fuckin' favors
Covered with a pist-al
'Bout to make this shit wild
Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)
Takin' off everything
The chain and the coat
And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)
Layin' in the hospital
Wires on top of you
And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)
Buckin' at your enemies
Suckin' on Hennessy
Fuckin' with the Kennedy's
Covered with a pist-al
'Bout to make this shit wild
Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)
Takin' off everything
The chain and the coat
And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)
Layin' in the hospital
Wires on top of you
And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)
Buckin' at your enemies
Suckin' on Hennessy
Fuckin' with the Kennedy's
From Brooklyn, to Yonkers
To wherever the fuck we at
The alley, industry party, club, hood
I got you, always remember that
You might be aight, but you ain't never safe
'Cause I got you
No tellin' what I'mma get you with neither
Somethin' big, 17 or more
You know, I got you
Blaow!
We out Bris
One
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