Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bloccstyle (feat. Brotha Lynch Hung), artist - Mr. Doctor
Date of issue: 02.10.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Bloccstyle (feat. Brotha Lynch Hung) |
Chorus x2: |
This shit is on |
I got love for the blocc |
Let 'em know for the blocc nigga yeah |
This shit is on |
I got love for the blocc |
Nine times for the blocc nigga yeah |
Crossed the tracks, out at Burbank High |
Late night, nigga felt nice |
Came in through the hole in the fence |
Threw up the mighty 9 |
Bloccstyle |
Homies had the spot sewed up mutha fuckas |
Rollin' wit the G-B-C down as fuck |
All the O-G's showed us what’s up |
Every real nigga from 29th street |
Kicked up a gang of dust |
True, this is why we dedicate the rhyme |
To the niggas from the G-B-C, rollin' wit deuce nine |
What’s the wild straight deuces'? |
And while the set’s in the city of Sac |
Ain’t got no truces |
How it hurt when the homie Chaka-Loc moved on |
How it hurt when the homey Q-Ball was gone |
Nigga this is how we livin' |
And ain’t nobody gave a fuck |
While you niggas bullshittin' |
Rival killa, murder his ass |
In his faggot ass set |
With his bitch made niggas |
At the hamburger stand |
Niggas don’t understand |
How the fuck a bitch gonna stay out on the spot |
Wit no love for the blocc |
This is how it’s done nigga |
I got love for the blocc |
Nine times for the blocc nigga yeah |
24 in the mornin' and I’m high as fuck |
Had the jack-off motion |
12 gauge in my trunk |
Plus that bomb ass chronic from the Garden Blocc |
And that mutha fucka Doc had a Glock |
So I was coo |
Coo like the brew I be sippin' on |
Get yo gut rippin' on |
Wit yo what |
Wit yo millimeter chrome |
See the only thing I see doin' is |
Gettin' high in the sky |
And I like to ruin kids |
Wit my 9 millimeter |
Strap up, seat up |
Fuck wit the Garden Blocc |
And get yo busta ass beat up |
See what you do is like feel me on some shit |
And I’m a stay high, way high |
Just in case my dome split, home sicc |
For the mutha fuckin' season, of the sicc |
Cuz you know how others get |
When I get to spittin' shit |
Isn’t it a mutha fuckin' shame |
Niggas wanna kill me |
But still we became, indo’d out |
And ain’t no mutha fuckin' doubtin' me |
Me setripin' niggas apart |
Like a ear blow fatality |
Yeah, this is how it’s done nigga |
I got love for the blocc |
Four times for the blocc nigga yeah |
St. Ides brew, a joint to the face |
Seven niggas deep |
Miller Park was the place |
Mackin' to a ho, spittin' my shit |
Kept my fingers round a gat |
To protect my click from punk shit |
Nigga check |
Eleven o’clock, the park’s hot |
I’m watchin' out for niggas wit a gat for the Doc |
You know, a mutha fuckin' gangsta scene |
Wit real niggas that bang |
They real niggas on they own team |
Straight killas, down for they shit |
I seen the Creek, the East |
The Heights, the Park, the View shit! |
The rivals is mutha fuckin' deep |
Stay wit the set locs |
Damn, we only seven G’s but yo |
Niggas we got the straps and uhh |
Plus we ain’t sleepin' so what |
Mutha fuckas watch yo backs |
Chill though, spit to the hoes, killed the foes (or fo’s) |
And watch out for the ricochet rolls yeah |
Cuz that’s life in the city, cross the South Sac |
Garden Blocc, deuce nine, much love, no pity |
This is how it’s done nigga |
I got love for the blocc |
Nine times for the blocc nigga yeah |