Styles Of Beyond: Mr. Brown

Shout out my name, you bitch[Verse 1]Oh, yeah, who wanna rip with Styles?The whole place on the lookout for Mr. BrownWe've got, plenty of clues and forensic filesPlus, envious crews, so we trip for milesIt's (Mister Brown!)Yeah, you know the drillNever holdin' 'em stillRoll 'em over the hillJust glide, close your mouth and open the blindsTook the wings off a bird and let it float to the sideSay (What?) to hear me callinShoutin out my name and playin' this in the Walkman[Chorus]Aiyo, crash the gatesAiyo, pack the place upBreak stuff, takin' all the paperI'mma stay laced upKeep a shank tucked, take a pay cutEven let you keep the dang paste up (really?)Say somethin, punk, what, put away the blank gunFakes wanna talk about bank but they make noneLive from the sweatbox, sucking on the [???]Pop some, lookin' for the foxhunt, peace[Verse 2]Yo, the joke's over, slap the bloke soberCatch a .40 caliber case of glaucomaRiders like Johnny Depp rollin' with WinonaBig trunk fulla shit, blow the globe upSo what? nobody knows us, got no lovePop 6, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it doesHot shit by the bungalow, drop the bloody gloveWon't get caught killin' today, baby, cause I'm a thugBottles of beer from the land of five horsesMan who wasn't there like Billy Bob ThorntonCrush-crew landin in, steppin' into the sceneFertilize new lawns, a Requiem for a DreamIt's (Mister Brown!), legendary assignmentSearchlights hover, but can't seem to find himTrack down whatever you can in the mistIn this case, it's strictly the hand of a fistSo (What?), keep your eyes peeled, post and look freshLike, Mammoth and Ideal (???), hope to hook checksAiyo, what's up, ticket the blowsPlus, jack whoever wanted with us, get slapped up, (UH) let it be knownMr. Brown got somethin' to bustThe blue steel touchin' his nutsThe pump got a sick mind of it's ownOh, crackin' the globe like the edible eggA nuclear rap bazooka with incredible aimWho can you blame? I'm a troop cooped in a cageAnd it's a thin line between a chipped tooth and a fang, come onYo, it's just one of those thingsWhere you wanna ride but it just won't swingWanna kick a rhyme, but it just don't bangOh, you've got that new shit that still sounds playedYo, it's just one of those thingsWhere you wanna ride but it just won't swingWanna kick a rhyme, but it just don't bangOh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played