This is a song about "Her style"

That it's been awhile

Try to get wit my style

This is for my bitches gettin' high on the regular

Style getting anarchistic, shudda ate supper

Never can he mimic... maybe can admire

The mastermind, with appetite, a man of style/

Look at her hair accuse her of bein a lesbian, she says hell naw i just like the hair style,

And certain death for us ghetto bastardswhat can we do when we're arrested, but open fire

They say i don't never smile

They just hated my style,

I ain't used to it, she got that hot love

Indeed its curtains my style venomous