Ghostface Killah - Block Rock lyrics
[Ghostface Killah - Block Rock lyrics]
"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
You can make it slush
On the streets, cousin, word life
Them big boy Toys'R'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 subdued, 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
Cuz, 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 AM, 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
Hooped 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 c 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
"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
You can make it slush
On the streets, cousin, word life
Them big boy Toys'R'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 subdued, 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
Cuz, 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 AM, 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
Hooped 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 c 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