Artist：styles of beyond

Songs Title：superstars

Aiyyo first things first

It＇s time to shake ground in the eighth round

Box battle and break down

For the beak in the rhyme tone

Jump in the cyclone

S-T-Y-L-E-S yes I know

Give the rap phene vaccine

Packed red beam

Put ＇em up what the f**k

You plucked a bad seed

Off the wall spittin＇ the guerilla tag team

Yo- you know the routine the demon effect

Please don＇t step you wanna be one of my pet peeves

The more beef the better; sound gay

But you all wanna sleep together ok

In the club we gon＇ sneak berrettas

Why not We got so much street credit the f**kin＇ police let us

So come and get your head crackin＇ up at me

Kick it- movin＇ it＇s on now

Making it punk loud

Shaking the buck wild

Rapin＇ the punk style

Fakin＇ the funk pal

Dunk watch the punk

What now Watch your battleship get sunk down

Click （click） pow （pow） knocked （knocked） out （out）

What Just what I thought what＇s up now

Hu- Hu- bugs out through the speaker

Dap-dap dabbin＇ the track with both hands

I＇m like Hu-hu- bugs out through the speaker

Dap-dap dabbin＇ the track with both hands

Hold it down never give in

Styles ever get limbs

Or whether you want it to end

Dirty seringe I murder ＇em again

97 serving them sins

Uh 30 your friends get knocked out turbulent wind

Hopped out what you want big verb in the gin

Yo- I got a rock style

Pivot the offspring and joke with ＇em

With a distorted gist off string

Who am i Rushin＇ what leg who and Tak

Pushin＇ your bed hotter than Quebec in July

Area 51 stereo rive gun live

Here we go S-O-B drop some

For the kids in the hall with the new block tape

Blast from both angles like boom dock saint

So get up get up and let the sound hit ya

Who the hell wear splittin＇ the belly up on a selfish

Shinnin＇ in your style playin＇ the fell blitz

Drillin＇ your brain like rap and video games

Feel the seringe for the styles that stickin＇ in your brain]

Yo- what kind of sh*t is he on

Really is styles really be on

C＇mon punk f**k off; You really gotta be gone

Ripped out of your brain

Pissed covered in sh*t to diss this S-O-B game

Son of a b**ch

I＇ma start killin＇ for kicks

There ain＇t an air force 1 inn the globe I can＇t fig get it

I＇m sick with it when I spit the venom

And it drip＇s up in ＇em

And it get＇s the women in a

Quick dilemma; We can settle it now

And I don＇t know who did it but they said it was styles

Bugs out through the speaker

Dap-dap dabbin＇ the track with both hands

Bugs out through the speaker

Dap-dap dabbin＇ the track with both hands