| Block food, nigga
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| Cashwitus, Trust Gang, nigga
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| Ayo Spesh, you ready?
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| I’ll talk my shit
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| It’s only right that I talk my shit
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| Look
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| Nigga, it’s time to put in work, trap house like a barbeque
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| It’s cut crack on every paper plate like your momma food
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| It’s 12 o’clock and the burner on 400
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| I already got four fiends, so I’m serving for four stomachs
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| Block food, I got pies, cookies and coke steaks
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| Even got some milk for the fiends, I give them coke shakes
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| Cook the white raw then serve them soon as the coke breaks
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| Even add the fizz so the junkies could get a coke taste
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| Young nigga, I was trapping since I was 12 with it
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| When I got bagged, I had bitches come to the jail with it
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| Sneaking it inside of their pussy, I had to pray to God
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| ‘Cause if I got caught with it, I have to stay the 5
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| It’s like the night at Apollo soon as the fiends come
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| Cutting it with fentanyl even if I don’t need none
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| If I ever run out whenever the fiends need some
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| Residue, I’m rubbing my thumbs all over the fiend’s gum
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| That’s block food for the niggas that never recollect
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| Treat it like Mickey D’s, I’m only working to collect a check
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| These niggas hustle for clothes and the hoes in dresses
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| Fuck that, I hustle for money and more investments
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| Stuff crack, Ziploc sealed, the bag delicate
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| Stuff it in the wall so the boys can’t find the evidence
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| Fuck a 12−12, I need shipments, I need them nine deep
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| Enough to fit all them bricks in the wall like it’s concrete
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| Always keep a burner, a four-five or a long piece
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| No matter what it is, if it’s a problem, that bitch at arm’s reach
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| Coke price go up, we keeping the shit in rotation
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| Serving fiends locked jaw, leaving on probation
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| I’m on my bully, I’m moving raw without hesitation
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| Kitchen like a pharmacy, letting fiends get their medication
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| I put my all in this trap shit, give it dedication
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| Fuck up out my lane when I’m moving, I’m always designating
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| Ayo, I was in trouble for serving block food
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| Mom ain’t want us to hustle, it’s hard not to
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| Now why would we struggle when we ain’t got to?
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| I’ma make a mil with this motherfucking pot too
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| Now I was stressing ‘bout my motherfucking pop too
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| He wasn’t around, but somehow I got through
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| We ain’t had no father figures to drop jewels
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| Paid the bills is how I filled up my pop shoes
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| Now I ain’t trying to sound hostile
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| But I was cooking cocaine when my mom was playing gospel
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| You can believe what your mind choose
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| But I refuse to worship a man the color of Tom Cruise
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| It’s cocaine in my council
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| And my apostles is fiends with million dollar nostrils
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| You niggas is primetime news
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| And if you ever put somebody in jail, I hope you die soon
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| You been a rat since high school
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| You and the cops cool, niggas is clowns without the costumes
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| I always got block food
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| And my education came from the block, it was not school
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| Why dudes want to see me murdered?
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| See I put a drive thru in the trap, that’s for convenient service
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| A warranty for every ki you purchase
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| Couple times, niggas came back tripping and got reimbursements
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| My ex-bitch, she was perfect
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| She used to drive five hours with bricks without being nervous
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| Had to ask if my freedom worth it
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| All the cars, ice and gold digging bitches with European purses |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Block Food, artist - 38 Spesh. Album song The Trust Tape 3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп