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H-O-S-T-Y-L-E Lyrics

"H-O-S-T-Y-L-E" was written by Ivey, Fredrick G/heron, Mike.
"H-O-S-T-Y-L-E" was written by Ivey, Fredrick G/heron, Mike.

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That's right ugh, check it out
Back in the days where the people were fresh
It was one MC who had to pass the test
He was down by law and he's ready to play
That's right yawl, it's hostyle today

Yo yo, yo
Woke up in the morning and my eggs was part
Turned on the boob toob saw the million man march
Tha cops in DC had to play scared
Gotta a, warn in plans looking at the quarters of France

Ants in my pants so I dips in the door
Picked up the keys, caught a telephone call
She yelling bones in my sounds swell
I'm like why can't a brother can't rise up
All I'm hearing is clobbers, hung up

Lighted some butter, wu tighten my gutter
Shouted lover to those hungry
Put holes in they clothes
Bitch niggas throwing weak shit in the game
On the streets,smoking dough and leak on the heap

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The drug pushers and face musher's)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Throw ya Henny in the sky)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The bread winners, the money getters)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Let's get this m-o-n-e-y)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The Henny guzzlers and the Henny huzzelers)
Those them types that fuck with me
(This is serious b-i)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The thug chicks who loved it)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Let's get this money till we die)

Climax a vocal like the local weed spot
Dimebags I go through, I'm at the penical of smoke signals
Tree's in a tight squeeze, night breeze
For I blow hair might freeze, somebody give me a light please

Matter fact I got matches I strike these don
Son where you coming from Vernon forty one
Here ya shorty come, know she calling me for what
She ignoring me unless she horny and I got some Trojans on me

I just stop start smiling, hands on her hips posing for me
I limped over with laughter
Told me to meet me a quarter after three
And smacker her on the ass cheek
Ghetto thug classy, if you ask me, if you ask me

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The drug pushers and face musher's)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Throw ya Henny in the sky)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The bread winners, the money getters)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Let's get this m-o-n-e-y)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The Henny guzzlers and the Henny huzzelers)
Those them types that fuck with me
(This is serious b-i)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The thug chicks who loved it)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Let's get this money till we die)

To all dem types that fuck with me
For qb and so on, the hyrdro crew
Mike Heron, Jerry Familiar
And my enginer, Max Zzzzz
(Zzzzz zzzzz)

Mo greens baby
To my man untouchable violence, what up
This our dudes, prince from pa rule
Yeah to the Mobb Deep and to the infamous Mobb
That's right, girl J Nicky Brown

To my three kids, get down baby
Yeah, it's on, Fredrick and my man Calito
What to all my people, ugh
The who hand clique, terrific mud explicit

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The drug pushers and face musher's)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Throw ya Henny in the sky)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The bread winners, the money getters)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Let's get this m-o-n-e-y)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The Henny guzzlers and the Henny huzzelers)
Those them types that fuck with me
(This is serious b-i)

H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(The thug chicks who loved it)
Those them types that fuck with me
(Let's get this money till we die)

Songwriters
IVEY, FREDRICK G/HERON, MIKE

Published by
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Royalty Network

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