Tonalidad: F# minor•
Intro 1
F#m
D
F#m
Bm
F#m
Bm
F#m
[Stylez]
Verse 1
Another small town cat with
a million dollar fetish
Learned my first lesson in
jail from a peasant
Always seem pleasant
Happy to be present
Said he past due,
shouldn't have been in the essence
Streets is like your girl,
treat it like your wife
You can flirt around with drugs,
but don't hit the pipe
You can mess around with guns
but death ain't right
Hold your breath, next step,
cause life ain't right
If you with the wrong cats
then your cyph ain't tight
Styles hit the darkside, show them the light
D
F#m
Life ended to the ice that
freezes m.c.'s
Friend of the flame, burn 'em in one game
Tell oxygen he ain't hopping in
He a little time nigga,
E
I ain't thinking of stopping him
Catch up first,
F#m
you stretch up worse than them
Been experts and done
less work than them
With no album,
we net worth more than them
These cats didn't think
that the Lox could do it
Got a hundred different styles
that will guide you through it
I'm the ghost of this shit,
I provide you fluid
Never crack sidewalks
or ride the sewers
You got some fly shit, but my shit
Is like the whole city fallin
out the sky bitch
Loud tracks
I'm the quiet loud ass
Quick to set it off on your
fucking foul ass
Make six digits eight and cop a palace
Make every rapper sick
and call me malace
Y'all niggas never know
what the Stylez have
Some shit in the stash that
would crack a cow's back
In a hundred pieces in they ass,
and how's that?
Never answer back,
I'm the cancer on the track
Just think, I could blink,
and make the Pink Panther black
Verse 2
F#m
[Chorus: x2]
Who's not to be fucked with?
That's me
Who's to be fucked with?
That's them
D
F#m
Why don't you watch my
back while I go ask them?
E
F#m
And if they want beef later
on I splash them
And if they want to flow,
right now I thrash them
Should I give it to them new style or old
G
F#m
fashion
D
F#m
Verse 3
Bm
[Stylez]
F#m
Bm
F#m
Do I have to
break down the walls
Stay off the floor
E
F#m
I'm the general dog, I start the war
E
F#m
Make every m.c. never spit again
When I leave 'em empty
No guts, no chest, no brain, no game
Stylez go broke, I'm a rob the folk train
I feel no pain
Steal cocaine
Fuck black thugs that run
through whole gangs
Anytime that I want it nigga, better listen
Blunt is the magic wand, I'm the magician
G
F#m
Stylez is the virus, ain't no physician
With an anecdote that can
stop my collision
Before you start asking,
I'm a start splashing
When I come through,
it's like ten planes crashing
Twenty ships, full of thugs,
all of them is bastards
Mashed up, looking through
binocs, about to crash in
What's the next issue?
Sheek did official
Called Spielberg, cops get tissue
E
So you can rock in the sky when
F#m
feds come and get you
Next question is where nasa at?
We need a hundred G's,
can fly, when traffic bad
When we down on the craps
We plasmic gats
D
F#m
Telling you now you can't
fuck with dinero
Got a lot of space when
it seem real narrow
Sagittarius style, spitting out arrows
Hundred at a time,
killing a hundred heroes
Outro 1
[Chorus: x2]
F#m
E
F#m
Bm
F#m
F#m
Bm
D
F#m
Bm
F#m
F#m
F#m
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