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1. |
| 3:23 | 
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Ok Ok ok ok
Y.O. where you at? (Oh!) Bronx where you at? (Oh!) Harlem where you at? (Oh!) Brooklyn where you at? Queens!) Now what you know about me I got this rap shit down to a tee Grams to a half, half to a key If these alone 'gon cause me a G My flow too deadly baby No fakin hold the hammer steadily baby No shakin you still wanted to pop off Until I come through slow with the top off You ain't real you just a knock off Y'all ain't sick that's just a light light cough Sheek heavy in the hood Rims spin heavy in the hood dash heavy with wood Niggaz try get me if they could But they know the handle is wood and my aim is good Sheek keeps it real, from the streets to the motherfuckin yards at jail (Let's go) I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama And, I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and Nah, I ain't thuggin I'm here to party And I, I don't party I'm here to thug I don't know taste this drink I think it's drugged Then ummm, he keep talkin he will get plugged Listen, tell shorty I got the hot tub If she try and wash a little sweat off from the club And, tell her friends they could come if they want Cause my niggaz got a line full of whips in the front And, I know you playmate of the month And you model for Vicky C (Say what?!) But ain't no runway here and you ain't there So you might as well let us skeet, bitch, ha ha! Ok, ok ok ok (Let me see who else in hear, let's go) New York where you at? (Oh!) Cali where you at? (Oh!) Miami where you at? (Oh!) Atlanta where you at? (Oh!) I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama And, I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and It ain't nothin but a word to come out the trunk on these cats With this that and a third But Sheek tryin to chill Get up on somethin go over there and ice your grill Damn! All these chicks in here, all this ass for free And you wanna stare at me?! I don't know what you thinkin or what you drinkin But you better go and get some ass before I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and And, I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and Yeah! Cocoa Channelle whattup ma! This it right here! ha ha! we got 'em! D-Block! Out! |
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| 2. |
| 4:24 |
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[Intro: Sheek Louch]
Ok ([Cocoa Channelle:] Ok) Ok ok ok Y.O. where you at? (Oh!) Bronx where you at? (Oh!) Harlem where you at? (Oh!) Brooklyn where you at? ([Cocoa Channelle:] Queens!) [Verse 1: Sheek Louch] Now what you know about me I got this rap shit down to a tee Grams to a half, half to a key If these alone 'gon cause me a G My flow too deadly baby No fakin hold the hammer steadily baby No shakin you still wanted to pop off Until I come through slow with the top off You ain't real you just a knock off why'all ain't sick that's just a light light cough Sheek heavy in the hood Rims spin heavy in the hood dash heavy with wood Niggaz try get me if they could But they know the handle is wood and my aim is good Sheek keeps it real, from the streets to the motherfuckin yards at jail (Let's go) [Chorus: Sheek Louch] I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama And, I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and [Verse 2: Sheek Louch] Nah, I ain't thuggin I'm here to party And I, I don't party I'm here to thug I don't know taste this drink I think it's drugged Then ummm, he keep talkin he will get plugged Listen, tell shorty I got the hot tub If she try and wash a little sweat off from the club And, tell her friends they could come if they want 'Cause my niggaz got a line full of whips in the front And, I know you playmate of the month And you model for Vicky see (Say what?!) But ain't no runway here and you ain't there So you might as well let us skeet, bitch, ha ha! [Bridge: Sheek Louch] Ok, ok ok ok (Let me see who else in hear, let's go) New York where you at? (Oh!) Cali where you at? (Oh!) Miami where you at? (Oh!) Atlanta where you at? (Oh!) [Chorus: Sheek Louch] I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama And, I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and [Verse 3: Sheek Louch] It ain't nothin but a word to come out the trunk on these cats With this that and a third But Sheek tryin to chill Get up on somethin go over there and ice your grill Damn! All these chicks in here, all this ass for free And you want to stare at me?! I don't know what you thinkin or what you drinkin But you better go and get some ass before [Chorus: Sheek Louch] I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and And, I don't know what you thinkin but a party ain't a party unless you drinkin And, I don't know what's all the drama But he keep on frontin better call his mama, and [Outro: Sheek Louch] Yeah! Cocoa Channelle whattup ma! This it right here! ha ha! we got 'em! D-Block! Out! ------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By JACOBS, SEAN D/WATKINS, CYNTHIA <i>Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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| 3. |
| 3:37 |
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Whoo, yeah, turn it up
Alchemist, you know what to do Bump that, turn it up, whoo Crazy daddy A'yo, why'all niggaz can't fuck with me, my flow's nuclear Fuck for the month I want the verse of the year I straighten shit out, you could put me in ya hair Perm-like bars, burn like scars, cooked up flow in a Pyrex jar Naw, I ain't the new millennium raw, cool G. or K.R. I'm just doin me, Sheek Louch a motherfuckin' hot MC Don't get it twis', don't get add to my fuck you list, unless you a bitch 'Cause I ain't got time, I'm not near rich We could let it drop or we could let it pop Make your decision 'fore I make my incision Head on collision, head-body division Spirit fly away like a motherfuckin' pigeon Take that to your grave, why'all niggaz behave [Chorus:] Yeah, D-Block is knockin', turn it up We got it poppin', turn it up We comin' for why'all, turn it up Niggaz they droppin', turn it up We got the streets locked, turn it up If it's beef let your heat cock, turn it up Welcome to D-Block, turn it up 'Cause we don't fuck around What, that nigga Sheek is the truth You would think he had a stripper inside how he go hard in the booth Lazer on the roof, squeeze off then poof Presto magic, like where did his chest go? Think not homie, got a ziploc on me Of that sticky icky in the pocket of my dickie Just drunk a half of sixty, kinda bended Hat low, knockin, bout to fuck up the rented I'm a general, I stepped up from a lieutenant This is D-Block, join us, don't get offended 'Cause I ain't lettin' up and you ain't lettin' off Plus I already know that most of why'all is soft The hood love me, put it in the air for me And boy cop mixtapes if they don't hear from me Got cake but occasionally you catch me bummy I'm too smart on the streets you fuckin' dummy [Chorus:] A'yo, real niggaz relate to me Jealous niggaz can't wait to send the shell of a tray-eight through me Don't miss cause it's uh-oh like Lumi Sun out, Sheek make the sky get gloomy I bail it all to you, I give you my life I write it in ink or blood, nigga pass my knife I'm takin' it there, even if they give me the chair I'm blacked out in the gear, Huey new in the wear My fist stuck screamin' black power I ain't gon' lie, that shit could wash off in the shower 'Cause I don't care what color you are Nigga clap at the kid, the kid tryna levitate your car I'm not a star I'm a nigga that'll issue the star I'm that nigga wit his hammer on him, at the bar Sheek a straight up crook who got you shook A'yo Alchemist, bring in the hook Let's go [Chorus:] ------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By JACOBS, SEAN D/MAMAN, ALAN <i>Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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| 4. |
| 4:30 | 
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| 5. |
| 4:18 |
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Yo you gotta hear the sixteen I just laid B.G.
Oh word, that shit a hit, that shit sound crazy Yo check the phone man, the phone was ringin before Yo this the Ghost right here my nigga Damn I missed my nigga call, check my messages Yeah this P To erase this message press seven, to save it press nine Styles: Pick up ya goddamn phone man, I keep tryin to call you Jesus Christ boy, one Yeah, D-Block Styles P you wit me dog? Hell yeah, let's get 'em, let's go (Sheek Louch) You get smacked with the hammer nigga play your position 'fore ruger more done set it and you stay in in position (Styles P) Nigga I'll hawk your ass, want to fit in my shoes And you cowards can't walk my path (SL) I don't know nobody fuckin wit us I ain't Gerome Bettis but if I hit you it's gon feel like the bus (SP) And you couldn't live this life and play this role Like never part with your gun and stay this cold (SL) Yo we in the streets where it's nothin but love I'm them leather shits, you the Michael Jackson glove (SP) I'm in the hood cause I'm dedicated If I was you I woulda never made it I'm Holiday so I'm celebrated (SL) We don't reminisce bitch ass, remember that Styles verse is the only thing gon bring it back (SP) Tell the ghetto show discipline I said Sheek gun Puerto Rican, bullets stay whistlin (Chorus x2) Sheek and SP in and out, all for the streets Turn the bass up and try not to fuck up your seats Rock that shit, every corner, knock that shit Niggaz try to front on us, cock that shit (SL) I guess I'm gettin older Cause everybody that I thought was hot go inside the garbage folder (SP) And nigga I'm from D-Block, I'm on 3-5-4 I keep my heat cock, and my blunt lit (SL) The mack out, take a piece of your back out Raise it to your cheek nigga, dare you to speak (SP) Shit I got plenty guns And thugs that'll give a nigga a hug and say they stab anyone (SL) You ain't never seen a nigga jaw hangin from his face Sausage shaped red shit hangin from his waist (SP) Nigga I'm well connected By the time you hear this I'll be in jail but I probly got two cells connected (SL) Yack in one hand, the other the lizm And If I push you down and wet you it's not baptism (SP) Bitch this is mafia It won't stop til they put you in the dirt with the flowers on top of ya (Chorus) (SL) Sheek goin broke is not in the plans I could sell gloves to a nigga with no hands (SP) A lot of niggaz screamin they wolf, but I'm feelin they sheep I won't be happy til the niggaz asleep (SL) I'll punch a niggaz nose in, duckin and bustin Cuttin and cussin, hold that you bitch ass nigga (SP) And I could make the best die Cut your throat open, pull your tongue through it That's a fuckin neck tie (SL) We turn bitch niggaz skin maroon Pump turn niggaz voices like they hit a helium balloon (SP) If Christ is comin it oughta be now, I swear to God Cause all why'all faggot niggaz die according to Styles (SL) What nigga you could get it for free Put your money up, ain't nobody fuckin wit Louch and P (SP) Yeah nigga that's what's up D-Block til the death motherfucker so our gats is up (Chorus) ------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By JACOBS, SEAN D/STYLES, DAVID/PIZZINI, MARIO/MIDDLETON, RAY <i>Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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| 6. |
| 4:05 |
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I don't know
Maybe we can make a change, maybe not I'm tired of crying, I'm tired of living I'm tired of niggaz, I'm tired of women Just want to be myself Keep the fame, keep the wealth, give me my health Take me to a place where they a'int hating no more Where I don't gotta raise the hammer and clap the four Where I don't gotta kick your door and ask for more Where I don't gotta dig your floor and ask for more, whoa Where I don't gotta serve no heads, cook no coke And there's no such thing as feds And there's no such thing as AIDS And little kids live the age to walk the stage No little babies crying, mama a'int dying Papa live at home, he got a steady job Everybody fall, he don't gotta rob [CHORUS] Walk with me talk with me Some times I just sit and think You know it's hard to express it why'all That's why I put it all in ink Where we ain't black or white Matter fact we are, but we don't have to fight, or kill Maybe Malcom would have been alive still Maybe Martin would have been able to chill Maybe a black face on a dollar bill I keep hope alive, that I stay alive I think it's coming, I try not to drink and drive A place where the death penalty is gone No abortions, life only lives on Nobody getting shot for their chains And no hard labor jobs, we all using our brains And you don't have to strip through school Cover your body mama, everything is cool Let you daughter know here moms is smart And that's your heart, before you tear her apart I think I'm asking for too much man [CHORUS] No murders on the 5 o'clock news No bodies over Jordan tennis shoes Nobody laying on me, waiting to blast I feel the spirits of my niggaz that past It's like they right here, I just can't see them Sometimes I'm jealous of them, damn I want to be them Everybody fake, when will this ever end If you don't know your enemy, the you don't know your friend A place where there's no more wars, no more tears, no more liquor, no more beers No more stocks, no more shares, no more fights, no more jails, no more kites A place where you don't value money, just the air you breathe And every day is sunny I know it can never happen and it's just rappin And I'm dreamin, again [CHORUS] |
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| 7. |
| 6:11 |
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I don't know
Maybe we can make a change, maybe not I'm tired of crying, I'm tired of living I'm tired of niggaz, I'm tired of women Just want to be myself Keep the fame, keep the wealth, give me my health Take me to a place where they a'int hating no more Where I don't gotta raise the hammer and clap the four Where I don't gotta kick your door and ask for more Where I don't gotta dig your floor and ask for more, whoa Where I don't gotta serve no heads, cook no coke And there's no such thing as feds And there's no such thing as AIDS And little kids live the age to walk the stage No little babies crying, mama a'int dying Papa live at home, he got a steady job Everybody fall, he don't gotta rob [CHORUS] Walk with me talk with me Some times I just sit and think You know it's hard to express it why'all That's why I put it all in ink Where we ain't black or white Matter fact we are, but we don't have to fight, or kill Maybe Malcom would have been alive still Maybe Martin would have been able to chill Maybe a black face on a dollar bill I keep hope alive, that I stay alive I think it's coming, I try not to drink and drive A place where the death penalty is gone No abortions, life only lives on Nobody getting shot for their chains And no hard labor jobs, we all using our brains And you don't have to strip through school Cover your body mama, everything is cool Let you daughter know here moms is smart And that's your heart, before you tear her apart I think I'm asking for too much man [CHORUS] No murders on the 5 o'clock news No bodies over Jordan tennis shoes Nobody laying on me, waiting to blast I feel the spirits of my niggaz that past It's like they right here, I just can't see them Sometimes I'm jealous of them, damn I want to be them Everybody fake, when will this ever end If you don't know your enemy, the you don't know your friend A place where there's no more wars, no more tears, no more liquor, no more beers No more stocks, no more shares, no more fights, no more jails, no more kites A place where you don't value money, just the air you breathe And every day is sunny I know it can never happen and it's just rappin And I'm dreamin, again [CHORUS] |
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| 8. |
| 2:37 |
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[intro (talking)]
Imma make the hits why'all book the shows [Hook] Aiyyo Bling bling, what's that? Sheek Louch is back Ride ride, you got my back? where the heaters at? 12 gauge, tech nines, yo! where the hit em at? D block, we got 'em going crazy, crazy [Verse One] Aiyyo, who's that looking through my window Blaaaow, why'all muh'fuckas know my style Any nigga looking and I'm daffy ducking his ass Beat upside down, straight bucking his ass Louie bat to his head, roll a truck in his ass Old man style, bust a bottle, cut 'em wit glass Yeeeeeah!, it can be who? Sheek the mc Spit hard, the mc, in the yard, the mc I eat dictionaries and spit out little pieces of paper that's why my vobulary sick Use big words like, suck-my-dick You don't want to play Louch, wit out entering cheats I'm like Eddie Kane nigga from the Five Heart Beats Coke thicker than ya muh'fucking cream of wheats Paper too small nowadays, I write on sheets And I done made so many hits, I'm about to cop cleats [Hook] [Verse Two] Without baking soda still keep the arm and hammer D block flag waving on the rangest tanner In our jungle, all gorillas keep a banana Spraying dumb, yo heat is old as nana Listen, if you wit us no time for bailing Sheek Louch, D-block, stop Rose like jalen No bull, nickle plate catch me pailing Scoop big niggaz, put 'em through half the sailing Yeah! I don't care if I sell or not The boy is hot, that be wit a oven glove Fuck mainstream, keep me wit gangstah love Street shit, Sheek shit, bring life to tug Ha ha, I'm like new, but I been here tho Just low, I ain't drop and why'all wanting a show Book it, let the hood in and let me rock Bring the hardest niggaz from ya block, what up! [Hook] [Verse Three] I got ? signs, fuck dog, beware the owner Step out, shopping boxes, Lemon Coronna Scratching my ass, hoping that the kids tresspass One of 'em vietnam niggaz, my stitch wit hair triggers I'm hot like, bout to start breaking you up I feel the earths a little baller niggaz shaking me up I'm bout to dig inside ya pockets, start caking me up I get coke before, I ever be outside wit a cup And yo what, that's right, the god sick wit it May be before, but right now the kid Louch forget it I'm the best out right now, spread the news I could write a book, Louch the new Langston Hughes Yellow Play Boy nigga, stin Pepe Lepues I don't just clap, Sheek'll make the 4 go off Espionage and all that, like ? Hit the block and make the o's go off, oow! ------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By JACOBS, SEAN D/LUNNON, LOREN <i>Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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| 9. |
| 4:52 |
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{Sheek} (speaking)
Yo I mean, you been there for me You know what I'm sayin, and ya know And I won't do you wrong ever again, nah mean, and you just, you been there And I'ma be there for you from now on, you know what I mean I ain't gonna neglect you, I ain't gonna do none of that shit You got my full undivided attention, and you know what I'm sayin And I'm not afraid to say it, I love you, I love you, I love her, fuck it, I love her. Haha Uh huh Let's go (How I love you) Ha, I ain't afraid to say it, uh uh, I'ma thug, (How I love you) More than that, I'ma man, ya know what I mean (How I love you) I'm in love, you my bitch, my bitch (How I love you) Let's go (Verse 1) Uh I used to dream about you watchin every move you made (yeah) I was young though, I think third or second grade (ok) I'd go home, write a poem, put it right to a beat What I would do, what I would say if we would one day meet Started getting older, still lovin your style How you dressed, how you drove the whole 80's wild I was proud when you first got on MTV (ooh) You was in the video chillin with Run-DMC That's my girl (that's my girl) Little nigga fiendin to hit it Knowin one day in the future I'd be right up in it Started doin talent shows, I had it off the hook You was there but you was too big, you wouldn't even look I ain't mad you ain't noticed til I got with a group But even then it wasn't nothin 'less I got in the coupe (Damn) Got me goin crazy, every day you switch up on me Puttin that in my face knowin me so horny see'mon (Chorus) {Styles P} (How I love you) You all I got (all I got) You all I want (all I want) You all I need (all I need) (How I love you) From day 1 (day 1) Till my death bed (til I die) You all I breathe (uh huh) (How I love you) I'm disciplined (disciplined) I'm dedicated (dedicated) And determined too (determined) (How I love you) You got your ups and downs (ups and downs) But I don't really mind (I don't mind) I still ride wit you still ride (Verse 2) {Sheek} Ok, listen The group doin good (yeah), still in the hood (uh huh) Got a nickname Sheek now you startin to speak (Sheek) Said you want to fuck wit all three if that's ok (ok) I'm like cool, once I hit it it was that anyway A couple years gone passed, still havin a ball A million times got the pictures on my wall When I first hit it, I was like Sheek the man (you the man) I stopped givin you the attention I originally planned Then you stopped fuckin wit me (oh) And left me alone And people only seen you with Jada and P (That's my mans) You even went around town and started doggin me bad (Damn) But it was my fault ya know, I couldn't even get mad (Ok) Had to grab the pen and pad and get right back Write some more poems to your ass and get back on track (Whoo) I ain't go no problems telling you I love you to death And that I'm whipped And my shit'll be blown if you skip Let's go (Chorus) A'yo I had to hit the streets, they said you be out there a lot And I can find you around any nigga out that's hot Every club, every whip, every gambling spot You know you'd rather be with me, you like to bug out Love to bring the thug out Plus I be keeping it tight We even go to work together, let you play all night Mad loud while I sit and I write Haha We gon' see the world together But not on cable All your friends lovin me, you even got me a label Got the magazines lovin our relations People love to hear us talk, DJ's record our conversations You good around other people, 'specially kids You make them happy, even brothers doin their bids And I ain't jealous at all (uh uh), go out and spread your wings And you can hang with Pop, just pick up the phone when it rings Let's go I ain't gon' lie to why'all, I'm whipped (whoo) (Chorus) (How I love you) (How I love you) (How I cry) (How I love you) |
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| 10. |
| 3:59 |
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{Sheek} (speaking)
Yo I mean, you been there for me You know what I'm sayin, and ya know And I won't do you wrong ever again, nah mean, and you just, you been there And I'ma be there for you from now on, you know what I mean I ain't gonna neglect you, I ain't gonna do none of that shit You got my full undivided attention, and you know what I'm sayin And I'm not afraid to say it, I love you, I love you, I love her, fuck it, I love her. Haha Uh huh Let's go (How I love you) Ha, I ain't afraid to say it, uh uh, I'ma thug, (How I love you) More than that, I'ma man, ya know what I mean (How I love you) I'm in love, you my bitch, my bitch (How I love you) Let's go (Verse 1) Uh I used to dream about you watchin every move you made (yeah) I was young though, I think third or second grade (ok) I'd go home, write a poem, put it right to a beat What I would do, what I would say if we would one day meet Started getting older, still lovin your style How you dressed, how you drove the whole 80's wild I was proud when you first got on MTV (ooh) You was in the video chillin with Run-DMC That's my girl (that's my girl) Little nigga fiendin to hit it Knowin one day in the future I'd be right up in it Started doin talent shows, I had it off the hook You was there but you was too big, you wouldn't even look I ain't mad you ain't noticed til I got with a group But even then it wasn't nothin 'less I got in the coupe (Damn) Got me goin crazy, every day you switch up on me Puttin that in my face knowin me so horny see'mon (Chorus) {Styles P} (How I love you) You all I got (all I got) You all I want (all I want) You all I need (all I need) (How I love you) From day 1 (day 1) Till my death bed (til I die) You all I breathe (uh huh) (How I love you) I'm disciplined (disciplined) I'm dedicated (dedicated) And determined too (determined) (How I love you) You got your ups and downs (ups and downs) But I don't really mind (I don't mind) I still ride wit you still ride (Verse 2) {Sheek} Ok, listen The group doin good (yeah), still in the hood (uh huh) Got a nickname Sheek now you startin to speak (Sheek) Said you want to fuck wit all three if that's ok (ok) I'm like cool, once I hit it it was that anyway A couple years gone passed, still havin a ball A million times got the pictures on my wall When I first hit it, I was like Sheek the man (you the man) I stopped givin you the attention I originally planned Then you stopped fuckin wit me (oh) And left me alone And people only seen you with Jada and P (That's my mans) You even went around town and started doggin me bad (Damn) But it was my fault ya know, I couldn't even get mad (Ok) Had to grab the pen and pad and get right back Write some more poems to your ass and get back on track (Whoo) I ain't go no problems telling you I love you to death And that I'm whipped And my shit'll be blown if you skip Let's go (Chorus) A'yo I had to hit the streets, they said you be out there a lot And I can find you around any nigga out that's hot Every club, every whip, every gambling spot You know you'd rather be with me, you like to bug out Love to bring the thug out Plus I be keeping it tight We even go to work together, let you play all night Mad loud while I sit and I write Haha We gon' see the world together But not on cable All your friends lovin me, you even got me a label Got the magazines lovin our relations People love to hear us talk, DJ's record our conversations You good around other people, 'specially kids You make them happy, even brothers doin their bids And I ain't jealous at all (uh uh), go out and spread your wings And you can hang with Pop, just pick up the phone when it rings Let's go I ain't gon' lie to why'all, I'm whipped (whoo) (Chorus) (How I love you) (How I love you) (How I cry) (How I love you) |
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| 11. |
| 5:02 |
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[Sheek Louch]
A'yo four shots let off, black truck sped off Big shit, tryna take a motherfuckin head off A'yo hold up man, let me take why'all back to the beginning Let why'all know what happend that night, listen I don't even know these niggaz hangin in front Usually we woulda been asked them what do they want What they came here for, this is 354 What you tryna get some gas or some shit from the store But nobody asked these motherfuckers what do they want It was bitin, mad traffic, the first of the month It was me, Chep, Bizzy and Hit B.G. and Lickalone and yeah I think Earth was there and shit And a few other niggaz in and out of the buildin Tryin to catch every sell but not to children Got a sixty of that yack in the store in the back Chep about to go home and get more of his pack Jake ain't fuckin wit us, what's the miracle Niggaz moms ex heads now turn spiritual want to preach to us talk about Christ And how fuck sand, how he could bring the beach to us That's when I noticed niggaz still outside Hoody on with some shades like they tryna hide So I cocked the hammer then I walked to 'em No beef, just a friendly little talk to 'em Listen Sheek: Here we go, yo whaddup money? Guy: Yo whaddup S: What why'all niggaz waitin for somebody or somethin? G: Yeah, why? S: Nah nah, I'm sayin why'all niggaz got on big hoodies and shit Yaknahmean? It's my block out here daddy I don't need blood on this shit and all that G: It's all love, it's all good S: Aight, just checkin dog [Sheek Louch] A'yo, turns out these niggaz is not from here And they got blood on they hands while they drinkin a beer They just robbed Dread and them niggaz spot I told 'em they gotta get up out of here, they makin it hot That's when four shots let off, a black truck sped off Big shit, tryna take a motherfuckin head off Bombaclot, no man rob me spot, everybody here feelin me glock They done put us in a mix now we gotta go to war with Dread and them niggaz cause they think we wit these dicks Shots goin everywhere, everybody clappin but them niggaz that was standin there They fuckin disappeared I cut one yardy underneath his fuckin beard Still clappin, got everybody runnin scared They ain't backin down and we ain't bitchin Niggaz comin out the house with the hitchelin under the michelin Throwin back a clip or two You would think we went to war with Colin Powells crew Police comin now but we don't give a fuck Rhas' tryna grab all his niggaz in the truck That's what I get for lettin niggaz blend in And they ain't really wit us, niggaz really tryna get us I keep my glock not givin a fuck But the bullshit is we still gotta watch for that truck [Sheek Louch] Yaknahmean, why'all niggaz remember that night dog? Only B.G. had his gun on him man, word up Styles P had his gun on him Besides that niggaz was fuckin naked man why'all niggaz didn't stop it man Niggaz had the drop on us kid If homeboy didn't come through, if he didn't come through and silence those guns dog, we woulda been sick Check it out though, I know them faggot ass niggaz kid You know what the fuck I'm talkin about Niggaz just bought them shits, that's why we had all them hammers Besides that man, word up man, no wing niggaz around us dog If you ain't a motherfuckin friend of mine or friend of ours, you gotta go Niggaz is grimey man, it's D-Block for real man You think these niggaz don't want what we got? Fuck yeah they want it That shit we be rappin about All that shit we be fuckin drivin around, these niggaz is hungry man I got somethin for that belly though ------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By EDWARDS, DENNIS/HARRIS, OTIS DAMON/STREET, RICHARD <i>Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing</i> |
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| 12. |
| 3:32 |
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Nigga what what what
Twin why'all niggaz ready Yeah yeah yeah She here to put the clack clack in this Crack pack in this Dick in this like I had a six pack of Genus Niggaz know that the flow be wicked Been nice since Tri Backs can they kick it Can't walk with out lil momma trying to flick it So be it take let your boyfriend see it U.S. gangsta but all my guns be Soviet Jake did it gon' take 'em up to I.D. it Chain hanging out but I ain't talking about jewelry Talking ammunition, bullets, big artillery Put a hole in a big ass social security Been this way be for I even reached maturity Nigga they all book me quicker 'Cause I'm worth more, like a Jam Master J sticker Alive but you can still pull out liquor Gotta dead serious flow I'm about to blow Yeah [Chorus: Repeat 2X] D-Block (where my niggaz at) D-Block (where my bitches at) D-Block (where them gangstas at) D-Block (where the shankstas at) J-Hizzle clap for my nizzle Who the fuck want to beef Louch pass me the pistol I'm about to let him ring like a phone He used to have a good head on his shoulders But now the shit gone D-Block bout to wake the game and get these bucks It's for them niggaz Dickie Dan throwin' it up rocking Chucks Like pimples motherfucker I'm all in your face You like sneakers when them strings about to get laced What you need chronic homeboy, we got all types Fuck your bikes, Nigga I smoke more than exhaust pipes You know those new 7-60's yeah I got two One platinum like my rhymes the other raspberry blue When I'm riding on the track like a surf board I'm on the block pitching what the fuck you think I got the word for Walk with me motherfucker we taking over the streets Let em warn all your peeps Hood coming at they street [Chorus] Seek a fucking crook Stake your house out know what your momma cook Fuck her with a broom Fuck the movie when I'm there its a panic room Niggaz start to stutter, please don't cut my mother I'm too fucking gutter clip on top of each other Two twelve gauges take you threw the stages Bullets running low but yours been there for ages Cob web niggaz iced out slob like I'm on a fucking bob sled niggaz I'll talk to why'all niggaz I ain't trying to shout Why fit in with Sheek was born to stand out You'll get pretzeled up twist in half Long shit with the black spots like a giraffe Clear my path when the guy walking How you try getting in the club I hope you jump in my coffin Besides D-Block I don't see that often [Chorus: Repeat 4X] |
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| 13. |
| 5:19 |
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Nigga what what what
Twin why'all niggaz ready Yeah yeah yeah She here to put the clack clack in this Crack pack in this Dick in this like I had a six pack of Genus Niggaz know that the flow be wicked Been nice since Tri Backs can they kick it Can't walk with out lil momma trying to flick it So be it take let your boyfriend see it U.S. gangsta but all my guns be Soviet Jake did it gon' take 'em up to I.D. it Chain hanging out but I ain't talking about jewelry Talking ammunition, bullets, big artillery Put a hole in a big ass social security Been this way be for I even reached maturity Nigga they all book me quicker 'Cause I'm worth more, like a Jam Master J sticker Alive but you can still pull out liquor Gotta dead serious flow I'm about to blow Yeah [Chorus: Repeat 2X] D-Block (where my niggaz at) D-Block (where my bitches at) D-Block (where them gangstas at) D-Block (where the shankstas at) J-Hizzle clap for my nizzle Who the fuck want to beef Louch pass me the pistol I'm about to let him ring like a phone He used to have a good head on his shoulders But now the shit gone D-Block bout to wake the game and get these bucks It's for them niggaz Dickie Dan throwin' it up rocking Chucks Like pimples motherfucker I'm all in your face You like sneakers when them strings about to get laced What you need chronic homeboy, we got all types Fuck your bikes, Nigga I smoke more than exhaust pipes You know those new 7-60's yeah I got two One platinum like my rhymes the other raspberry blue When I'm riding on the track like a surf board I'm on the block pitching what the fuck you think I got the word for Walk with me motherfucker we taking over the streets Let em warn all your peeps Hood coming at they street [Chorus] Seek a fucking crook Stake your house out know what your momma cook Fuck her with a broom Fuck the movie when I'm there its a panic room Niggaz start to stutter, please don't cut my mother I'm too fucking gutter clip on top of each other Two twelve gauges take you threw the stages Bullets running low but yours been there for ages Cob web niggaz iced out slob like I'm on a fucking bob sled niggaz I'll talk to why'all niggaz I ain't trying to shout Why fit in with Sheek was born to stand out You'll get pretzeled up twist in half Long shit with the black spots like a giraffe Clear my path when the guy walking How you try getting in the club I hope you jump in my coffin Besides D-Block I don't see that often [Chorus: Repeat 4X] |
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