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    Текст песни Styles - Y'all Know We In Here

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    Слова песни:
    P.K.iller!

    [Verse 1]
    Y'all gon die, so who gon cry for us
    hop in they whip and ride for us
    pop niggas in the skull in they frame, shit
    it's a body for a body for the love of the game
    But niggas'll call the precinct with your government name
    but I'm still loadin my guns, gettin it on
    and if a nigga bury my man, I bury his mom
    I was trained to dump in your face, jump over the gate
    hop in the hoop', grab a bird, get outta the state
    stay in the dirt, dog we like pieces of shit
    dealin coke like cars, come lease you a brick
    Holiday bitch, I show you what a 38 special do
    Turn niggas vegetable, salad ass niggas
    Never send a coward around violent ass niggas
    I'ma always bust my gun, use my knife
    ride or die, til the day I lose my life

    [HOOK 2X: Swizz and P.K.iller]
    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!

    [Verse 2]
    It don't matter who you are, or what you say
    aint no rapper you name fuckin wit Styles
    and I'll probably die young, shot in the war
    but I aint 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 aint 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 aint gettin the bail
    I'ma 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

    [HOOK 2X]

    [Verse 3]
    I'ma 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

    [HOOK 2X]
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