Lyrics:
world, winter war weather
This is wu-block music for the black hooded champions
Step in the car and go
Round down by your lady and I
Be waiting
Weirdest kid on the block zombies ate my neighbors
You the walking dead if its world war z from my metaphors
I'm The dawn of the dead king
on the block, but you gots to earn your stripes, baby
No problems
Show me where the kid at
Don't you worry about him, man. We're gonna roll by his place in
for the syndicate
[?] Lester on these blocks, boy, you in for it
Pushing for the King of New York, I see it
Gangsters try so hard but can't be it
Only
(Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up)
A spark by midnight
(Get up, get up, get up)
Shootin' 'round, movin' white
Ooh, baby, the block's hot just
trace
Your girl starin' in my face at seven thousand feet
Turbo, jets in the cockpit
You flock with weak kids on the block with
For protection,
chose I
I ain't gonna lie
What I look like turnin' down chocha
Drove by, smokin' lye
Recognize a pimp, open your eyes
Hop in the passenger side
“Blaaatts”
Or walk wit' a new bop, we got some new pots
I see some 40 bigs, I blew off homie wig
And run up in his house and kidnap his only kid
black cops in cars profilin
Hardcore kids in the West got stress
In the East we are chased by the same black beast
The black cop is the only real
as Stonehenge
Pledged whoever crossed his path get scrapped with a sledge
Hammer, he didn't give a damn about the manor
And on the block he was called by
I got a new whip
And that girl wanna fuck me think I'm clueless
I might fuck her once and give her two kids
I just keep on grinding I need blue
Watch how you talk
Ooh Yeah
Watch how you walk
Ooh yeah
Get off my block
Block yeah
Look at my socks
Socks bitch
Watch how you talk
Ooh Yeah
Watch
prayer outta schools and we tryin to raise scholars
Creationism verses the Theory of Evolution
Air, water, land, mind, body & soul pollution
Kids
I ain't gon' bite off more than I can handle
I got the DVD all in my wall panel
I ain't try to brag, this is on my dick, 'cause they see in a mag
new
Niggas want me dead, for a bag and a
Price on my head, got a price on my head (price on my head)
Night when I rest, with a knife by my bed
Treating the block like it taught me a new religion
Im screaming death to the competition
When will they bring us up in there discussions
when they do it
saw me
I ain't shootin at kids bitch I'm hittin
My target
Plug threw pounds onna block and I told him lob it
Whippin up glass inna kitchen shit lookin
when lights on the street
Coke bottles, sticks, rocks man and fights in the street
Just A kid playing with matches sneaking in buildings for fun
New kid
powder
People hanging in spots
They waited until the blocks got hot
And got raided by the cops
I'll explain the man sleeping in the rain
His whole
get god
You know the Kid Capri shit everybody is on
The N.O.R. hit the mic just like I perform, I be hyped up
New Balance kicks and hyped up
Why you
game too overcrowded
And nothing they can do about it, give my tapes away for free
And put it in your face on my kush DVD
So you can
Look at my hair,
Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G
Nas, he a QB-QB true G
Do the history
Way before The Firm, like back in the day
Nas was the first New York nigga
Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G
Nas, he a QB-QB true G
Do the history
Way before The Firm, like back in the day
Nas was the first New York nigga
says your dead by manana
Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body dropped, behind the lot
Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block
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