Album: Category F5 (2009)Block Music[Twista]
I'm sick and tired of the pussy shit
Hoe-ass niggaz I hear rappin, they must be pussy-whipped
What happened to that Beanie Sigel fully shit?
No more sweet-talkin, I wanna hear about the fully clip
What they bust from a pistol grippin through suckin a tissue
But they ain't crushin a sickle, don't you be trustin 'em wit'chu
Homie fuck what's the issue, they will go nuts when I diss you
Crazy for once in my nickels so bring a customer wit'chu
Hit him with the back of the pistol and knock him unconscious
My rappin'll get you, I'm snappin, I'm a monster and I'm as
psycho as they get, I'm the shit, don't get hit with the burners
I'm heartless, I'm dark as [?] is the difference for murder
Plenty riches I earn as the best and the bosses know it
So much paper in the room I'm becomin claustrophobic
Get my message out to the thugs as if I talked to Moses
Score on these niggaz every time I see Moss is open...
[Chorus: Liffy Stokes]
Yeah, this for my niggaz on the grind (on the grind)
When niggaz out there on the deck that's doin time (doin time)
Cock mine, don't be scared even[?] to use it
Cause they're broke, startin the gang-bang music
Block music (block music)
This the shit that you play when you get into it
Block music (block music) block music (block music)
Bust your shit off nigga while I lose it
to this block music (block music) block music (block music)
[Skooda Chose]
K-Town Westside nigga, that's where the hood at
Gang-bang straight block music, that's what I'm good at
As soon as Skood' snap with a track
I burn it down this mantle to wax
It's textbook, example of crack
It's a gangsta party, weed chasers, a block, three haters
Bitch fast cars, a hand of gorillas, speed racer
No NASCAR for that green paper
I blast the Glocks to your team later
Don't ask why I holla back, scrap Holocaust, nigga I'm a boss
Cause that dead man pick-up flow, try me come across
I catch you late night, Johnny Carson - y'all niggaz probably vomit
I live life Sinatra in Vegas, Armani garments
Mob cars, makin moves or make some odd cars[?]
Run to your little hotel room discharge five
But niggaz pop with they ribs turnin
Just like on the block like they crib burnin
I do it for y'all...
[Chorus]
[B-Hype]
Yeah, I put you niggaz in a cemetery
And I'm delusional, don't know how many men I bury
I got a nina, now you know that bitch I gotta carry
But I'ma box you niggaz, shit I ain't never scary
Don't get it twisted my nigga, don't let the size fool ya
A swift kick up yo' ass is what I'd do to ya
B-Hype a menace, I'll finish you with no evidence
Gettin caught up in that bullshit is irrelevant
I'm too grown for my stakes, and these bitches I break
Cause I'm a fuckin snake, fuck you nigga go and hate
Shit I'm a time bomb, that's why I stay armed
And I smoke that backwood to keep my nerves calm
Look for my right arm, it's bringin much heat
And I'm a certified gangsta nigga in the streets
I'm a monster elite, I got them hood figures
And I'm comin real wit it, it's for the block nigga!
