Time Will Tell Lyrics - Singles - Styles P

[Styles P] 

D-Block! I ain't Cam, but it's muthafucking Killa Season 

Homey's dying over ignorant nigga reasons 

Know the home fried, lotta egos 

Hoodrat bitch that be digging a nigga steelo 

Hood got kilos, making them niggas evil 

Never bring guns to the court, when they B-Ball 

I don't play around with them suckers, I'm a G, ya'll 

Standing on the tip of the block, I'mma see ya'll 

Wanna know the price of a verse, I got the fee, ya'll 

I tell you how much, coming through like the army do 

Army suits, all big coupes with Armani suits 

I got the lows on, and the toast on 

Me, two guns and a knife, form Voltron 

Oatmeal, PBJ, getting my bulk on 

Sacrificing most of you rappers, getting my coke on 

Electrifying all of you niggas, getting my votes on 

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[Chorus: Raekwon] 

Aiyo, yo, from every palace in the hood 

To every child that's in the hood, it ain't no deers around here 

But it's all good, my metal niggas, forever rebel niggas 

Never ever rebel, just only time telling niggas 

Wake up 'fore niggas eat you 

It's only matter of time, when them nines come out to meet you 

Yo, don't be alone when we roaming, like cell phones, homey 

Cuz when they hungry, it's another story, run for me 

Photos 

[Styles P] 

I'm back like retro kicks, and I'm saucy 

Your brain can get left on some pesto shit 

I need a Pablo Esco' flip, and I'm the Phantom 

Listean real close, you hear the echos spit 

I'm a wolf, you run around on some gecko shit 

Kick in the door of the shit, wasn't left for bent 

I kill the best now, tell me who the rest gon' get 

Not a damn one, the handgun, is right on the waist 

Whether you ugly or you handsome, I'm right in your face 

You can run, I get excited from the flight of the chase 

Little chimp, why don't you try to spend a night with the apes 

I get higher than the flight outerspace, where I'm from 

I seen alotta niggas die or get indicted for base 

Get weight, a little cake try to buy them a place 

Either raw, ain't safes on, firing eight 

And mine, nigga, I don't fire 'em straight, feel me 

[Chorus]