Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Block Rock, artist - Ghostface Killah. Date of issue: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Block Rock |
| «You out there, on now» |
| «Sorry… that’s word, I’m not the herb» |
| «Understand what I’m saying, saying, saying» |
| «It's the hardcore» |
| «Set it off, rusty, low down» |
| «Following me, it be the God» |
| «Whatever, whatever» |
| «God all» |
| «All New York, ight» |
| Yo, aiyo, the Wally man’s coming, you can hear his chain dangle |
| Brolic arm, check out the ankle |
| Best cuts, diamond sittin’sideways, like they sit in the cup |
| You can pour Goose on it, juice on it, two Jamaican sluts |
| On the streets, cousin, word life, them big boy Toys’R’Us |
| Got them S5 fifties Maybach’s, push suede back |
| Four hundred g’s, on the concrete, save that |
| Like James Brown, it’s the Big Payback |
| Same place you front’s where you get laid at Strong arm a nigga for real, we eat ya food |
| Like dog, muthafucka, in replace of a meal |
| Give you a two hour car chase, flying through lakes and bushes |
| Holding the wheel, still burning the swishes |
| Exotic killas who bribe to kill us, and we pay for a tab |
| Don’t matter what size the bill is We don’t need your support, wack speech your thought |
| Just to rhyme my shit when the tape cut off |
| The price of fame, a dope chain, the same chain |
| Yo, he tapped to the roof, watch the block, watch 'em hang |
| From Broad Street down to Milledge |
| You fucking with experienced killas |
| Mean wolves, silver back gorillas |
| Them Theodore kids’gorillas |
| You fucking with experienced killas |
| Silver back gorillas |
| The grenade gonna hit like a bomb from Flex |
| The street is never at peace when I palm a tech |
| My enemies is sub, dude, I’m a black belt |
| The moves I do, is how Bruce stick Kareem Abdul |
| Same dudes give a bitch booze, stupid rich dudes |
| Crystal, chandellier ice, keep a wrist full |
| Cuz, if Lil’Jon, can ice his cup |
| I top that shit, and ice my nuts |
| See I’m a threat when it comes to rocks |
| At 3 A.M., you like damn, who put the sun on the block |
| Is he crazy? |
| Illuminate like the Son of God |
| And still pull up in the hoopted out rented car |
| With dust and weed on him, knock the neighborhood bully out |
| Take his gun and pee on him |
| The magazines cant develop my flicks |
| The negatives came, and printed out them c-note chips |
| Keep the heat flaming, beats banging, bottle of weed stanking |
| Competition, yo, I’m giving out strict spankings |
| Burn 'em like bacon, some want Satan |
| In the hell fire, screaming, yo I’m sorry for faking, baking |