At least 10 bands for a motherf**ing feature
At least 10 bands for a feature
I be in the hood, well-respected like a preacher
Gucci Louis sneaker
Your b**h, she a eater
I f** her, then leave her
You thug because you treat her
Go to the pawn shop then get my mags up
n***as p**y when they see me they gon’ call for backup
Got that 40 on me homey, I’ma never lack up
Yeah my n***as moving work, you can call us tractors
Why n***as wanna be the big bad wolf?
If a n***a diss the Bloc, he gon’ get his a** whooped
He gon’ get his f**ing chain took, and his brains took
Body bag him, now his
[?], his name Wayne Brook
I
[?] for my b**h, now she mad at me
Keep that bag with me, like I’m an athlete
Rollie on my wrist, and I bust down the
[?]
And I got pounds of weed, I keep them rounds with me
Wrist froze, ears cold, but my chain and mouth gold
Hide your b**hes, hide your hoes when you see me n***a
And every time you beat your hoe, that’s a DV n***a
Can’t see me, I Stevie n***as
Gla**es on, I 3D n***a
Chicken, chicken, chicken
Egg, egg, egg
And I’m in this b**h and
[?] yeah yeah yeah
Off the dome with it, off the dome with it
n***a playing with the Bloc, he get dome splitted
He get dome splitted, he get dome splitted
If a n***a talking too ignorant, we gon’ shoot 50
We gon’ shoot 50, we gon’ shoot 50
We got
[?], we got your boo wit it
I’ma let your boo
[?], let the crew hit it
f**ing on your boo boo, and she let the crew hit it
You know what’s going on n***a
You know we blowing strong n***a
Got your b**h in her thong n***a
And you got kiss her when she gets home, n***a
Bloc Bloc Bloc Bloc
It’s Bloc Bloc Bloc Bloc
Yeah, Yeah