Lyrics:
Votin' out forty-five
Don't get outta line (yeah)
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Pick a side
Only double lines we cross is dollar signs (yeah)
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
on my own thing, yes Moses
I don't part the sea I fly the jet across the ocean
Yeah, God's the one that wrote this
I'm just an instrument so make sure
(J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League)
57, yes, yes, good for a D-Boy
Hand my MAC-11 to the engineer to record
Got the baddest women in the world for me to feed on
Double
40 then I front you
A block on a plate, take a line if you want to
You know that you want to, I know what'chu gonna do
It's my party, buy a dub if
large
The name, F are double the E, tell 'em
Don't really wanna cross the line
An' I don't wanna have to tell ya twice
An' Trick, are O see bring trouble
on
Let's go deep into my cold mind
First and one, I got it on the goal line
Fully automatic weapons for my O line
Wanna buy the team they say I need
about
We got to blow up the spot, because they must have forget
We double (trouble) bubble (bubble) bubble (bubblin' hot)
Well it's like smack
I couldn't help but notice
You've been around the block
I couldn't help but notice
Your tuners don't come stock
My vintage pickup lines
Make local
about
We got to blow up the spot, because they must have forget
We double (trouble) bubble (bubble) bubble (bubblin' hot)
Well it's like smack
the last go-around
Yeah, I ain't gon' even wait on 'em, I'ma get 'em now
We been eating around these parts
Get 'em (Gangsta Gri-zillz)
My block
got game for sure
And when I win I spit game to whores (yep)
Or double it back, I'll double the stacks
Throw a dub, a big face or double the stack
Wholesale
They love it like Rotel
Free the block RIP to Blocc
Nigga they miss you
Double up, get the bag
Make sure you get the cash
My dick long and my stash
Wholesale
They love it like Rotel
Free the block RIP to Blocc
Nig** they miss you
Double up, get the bag
Make sure you get the cash
My di** long and my stash
your breathin' stop"
Man, I can't come with no line after that
Man just bring this shit back in, c'mon, man
I hit the block on 10 in a drop-top Benz
You
Yeller, a pit bull and dog is the champ
You know better, think about crossin' the line
Hit your sweater, with about ten from the .9
Double R and we get
then you know I'm back to selling O's
Back on the block with bro
Back capping double O's
Back ducking 5-0
Lettin' these niggas know
That this my
you double overtime
She was beggin' to be mine, but my job was on the line
Should I say or should I go? I just didn't know... Hmmmm
I left fifty
a 360 pretty swiftly
'Cause I got things that'll pop yo top
And double R spot yo block wit 16 shots and watch y'all drop
And ain't nobody getting
money, it grows and it grows and it grows and it grows and it grows
1989, when I was on the grind getting mine
6-1 block, East Side was the line
I had
You know me, I stay with it
The type to bill a line before I wait in it
And, we're spinnin' the block
Eye for an eye
That's one-for-one like
now you get it, better yet, with it
One come test me now
Tell 'em the line get it
And bit them off a chip or
The block or the wood
Little homie couldn't
bouts.
Ya boys;
Your block; is full of bums, see.
You never was too clever
Stick the fork in you,
You're done G.
The instrument'll rip
With
Cherokee with that limo tint
Beatin’ down the block serving keys on the instruments
Show you how to use a scale, bass get low like limboin’
Ain’t no need
D's on the Chevy what cream do
Front line nigga, still I was team two
Always ready for whatever when it came to it
Young nigga took an L and he chose
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