Block Rock

"You out there, on now"

"Sorry... that's word, I'm not the herb"

"Understand what I'm saying, saying, saying"

"It's the hardcore"

"Set it off, rusty, low down"

"Following me, it be the God"

"Whatever, whatever"

"God all"

"All New York, ight"

Yo, aiyo, the Wally man's coming, you can hear his chain dangle

Brolic arm, check out the ankle

Best cuts, diamond sittin' sideways, like they sit in the cup

You can pour Goose on it, juice on it, two Jamaican sluts

On the streets, cousin, word life, them big boy Toys'are'Us

Got them S5 fifties Maybach's, push suede back

Four hundred g's, on the concrete, save that

Like James Brown, it's the Big Payback

Same place you front's where you get laid at

Strong arm a nigga for real, we eat ya food

Like dog, muthafucka, in replace of a meal

Give you a two hour car chase, flying through lakes and bushes

Holding the wheel, still burning the swishes

Exotic killas who bribe to kill us, and we pay for a tab

Don't matter what size the bill is

We don't need your support, wack speech your thought

Just to rhyme my shit when the tape cut off

The price of fame, a dope chain, the same chain

Yo, he tapped to the roof, watch the block, watch 'em hang

From Broad Street down to Milledge

You fucking with experienced killas

Mean wolves, silver back gorillas

Them Theodore kids' gorillas

You fucking with experienced killas

Silver back gorillas

The grenade gonna hit like a bomb from Flex

The street is never at peace when I palm a tech

My enemies is sub, dude, I'm a black belt

The moves I do, is how Bruce stick Kareem Abdul

Same dudes give a bitch booze, stupid rich dudes

Crystal, chandellier ice, keep a wrist full

'cause, if Lil' Jon, can ice his cup

I top that shit, and ice my nuts

See I'm a threat when it comes to rocks

At 3 A.M., you like damn, who put the sun on the block

Is he crazy? Illuminate like the Son of God

And still pull up in the hoopted out rented car

With dust and weed on him, knock the neighborhood bully out

Take his gun and pee on him

The magazines can't develop my flicks

The negatives came, and printed out them see-note chips

Keep the heat flaming, beats banging, bottle of weed stanking

Competition, yo, I'm giving out strict spankings

Burn 'em like bacon, some want Satan

In the hell fire, screaming, yo I'm sorry for faking, baking