Lyrics:
real ass nigga from the east bay
?w-e-l-l-t-e-p-are-o-o-f?
For the niggas who kid yourself by losin' your fuckin' death
Bloaw! bloaw!
Cap, we do it
pimp Mr. Glock
Now glock had many bitches, he sold pussy by the pound
And bitches jocked his trigga every time he came around
Big baller, big game
the cream and the cash, by any means I'ma mash
So go get my green out the stash, walk with that beam in ya ass
'Cause I gotta
Hit the block, count that
looking for a star or celebrity to sponsor our new line of trolls dolls, in our new series of commericials. So thanks for coming.
Let's just start
Uh, dear Mr. President
Whats happenin'?
I'm writin' you because, shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood
Pretty much the same way, right
Money is an issue, and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part
Money is an issue, and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part
in the New York rhyme
Better kiss that ass goodbye, when I'm passin' by
With plastic nines to blast your eyes, right, what, nigga?
You can kiss your
(every day)
Go unload the cannon (you know what I mean)
Mr. Banton in the bando (Lamborghini, oh yeah)
Gonna hit the block and spin just like a wheel
Yeah, I like it when the girls
Stop by in the summer
Do you remember?
Do you remember
When we met, last summer?
New Kids On The Block
Had a bunch
the first time
Kids in my block going
Loco they busting through my front door
My two piece pretty polos
PJs with the loafs tho
Kick me round the block
Uh dear Mr. President what's happenin'? I'm writin' you because
Shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood
Pretty much the same way, right
Mr Rogers, Mr Rogers
Had to gas up the Grand Nash'
To go and bend the block
(Bend the block, bend the block
Bend the block)
Had to gas up the Grand
then I pull breech block,
I'm gunmaker, I'm gonna shot your girl,
I'm gonna shot your homies, till a music stop,
(Second verse)
When I build a new gun,
serve it while it's hot
I'm flowin' like a volcano, I'm drippin' verses off the top
Dirty cops still swervin' on the block
Lookin' for black kids, that
Verse 1
But I'm sayin kid
it's only right to represent where I'm from
East Coast bottom line, But I represent
wherever I go (what)
I'll be
Chump change, I make it rain for fun (whats up)
Snow man, get cha' hands up high
It's ya' boy, Mr. 17-5
I take it back to the block, back
Money is an issue, and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part
tooken
The New Kids on the Block sucked a lot of dick
Boy/girl groups make me sick
And I can't wait 'til I catch all you faggots in public
I'ma love
bodyguards,
Surveillance around his land spread
He runs a billion dollar organization under investigation,
Plus he's wanted by immigration
Now I'm stuck,
in front of a store or something
'Cause you'd be taking shortcuts, right
Cops, "Ree, put your hands up, black boy!"
The cops shot the kid
man, went from that to makin a livin
Rightous willin, the only thing supreme swimmin
And proceed, to not smoke weed around the seed
It's the new way,
Money is an issue, and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle
Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle
And make fa' sho' I get to work mines, for part
Japanese, Spanish, Indian, Negro and Vietnamese
MC's, Disc Jockeys to all the fly kids and the young ladies
Introducin' The Crew ya got to see to believe
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