Lyrics I Can Make You Dance (Screwed) - H.A.W.K.

I Can Make You Dance (Screwed)

Million dollar block
Spot is hot, but we gon mash to the top
These FED’s gon watch
The cash don’t spot, million dollar block
On my block my spot, is hotter than Arizona
Infested with marijuana, hustlers on every corner
I sit in the sauna, like the boat in the beach
Four hundred snails cut cudicals, as I sip pharmicutical
Got me twelve funds, along with stocks and bonds
And for the cash baby, even got a green thumb
Fee-fi-fo-fum, like Jack and the bean stock
I’m passing four raw, with sixty open some vaults
I paid the cost, a certified Mafia boss
And over a quarter a million dollas, is my annual gross
Popping bottles of Andre, Castle and Ligante
On page like picante, feed me on me entree
It’s my way like Usher, got connections in Russia
Try to stop my shine, my troops’ll bum rush ya
F-E-D's on the watch, all eyes on me
Ain’t nothing they can do, but legalize currency
I’m in a drop top Benz, yelling motherfuck friends
Cause now I’m strictly pussy, family and dividends
Finally made it off the block, streets swallowed us G’s
God’s hopped out of me, had to swallow my cheese
But the next day I was grinding, got the balling disease
I had a dream I was a Don, U-Hauling these ki’s
Yelling Southwest, Braeswood
And y’all know, 8900 pay good
I went from a block bleeder, to a Interstate skater
A fifty pack scorer, to a heavy weighter a cookie baker
And nigga, I ain’t ask I took my paper
Cause fool I ain’t a rookie in these streets, I pull capers
Cause now we ball till we fall, drink Cristal
Ghetto superstars, stay knocking off the mall
Hundred thousand dollar cars, on twenty inches
We million dollar boys, man you niggas penny pitchers
(*talking*)
Million dollar block, there’s one in every city
State and ghetto near you, all you have to do
Is take care of your business, you know they watching you
Stay on top of your game, and stay away from these
Hating ass niggas, keep it real and your do will grow, you feel me
Marvin Gators and blocks, eat gators and steaks on papers
As I climb the elevator, housing and the ten acres
Yeah the paper it grew, caused mo' up’s than blue
36 to 52, now I’m Gucci to the shoe
And who new, I prescribe more narcotics than mayors
Wanted dead or alive, got one 4−5 on my head
And these FED’s, got my block hotter than fire
But off the flo', just knocked me a Benz two-tou'
They gon stop and say why, 23 tire fleece
And I don’t lease nothing baby, think half of what you see
Fuck a ki', I’m cutting my time by the pound
Stepping out in Devinci, with my broad in 'Sacci gowns
Watch out now, we sipping champagne in campaigns
Chit-chatting bout new names, and new schemes for cocaine
Mo' pain, I’m staining the scene chasing the green
Through my million dollar block, dreams done turned reality
(*gates closing*)