Lyrics Blocked Em In - Shad Da God

Blocked Em In

They tried to run off with the flame and I blocked em' in
I swear yo hoe gon' get that flav if Im on her head (whew)
Pulled up in that fifteen thing
And I ain’t goin' in if I can’t bring my whoolie in
If I can’t get it then my whole got the whoole in
Ain’t no sans or no percs then you ain’t cruisin' in
I might just hit your blunt depending what you smoking in
Preferably a backwood stuffed both ends
Stuffed both ends of the backwoods in this motherfucker
You do my job that mean we flame brothers
I pull one bitch she pull up on me with six others
You know I ride with that mail get shit
Pouring up some syrup that make my sprite another color
I put her in a sixty she can’t be my hoe unless she freaky like she from
rocafeller
Cartier this shit, I got real shooters
So I don’t condone the beef shit
Bankroll mafia in a three six
I got hoes watching me like Netflix
Shit, Pull up at the spot make a sick flick
Hit my cali number when you pulling off the exit
Yeah we got the same jeweler you got wack shit
My neck click, while yo bitch up like Brett Flick
Let me find out she really got these hoes arrested
Cuffing on em is a major violation, cause we chop em up then its segregation
She must got something to put on one of these bracelets
Muddy time what water in the face shit
Old hundreds in the middle hundreds
Purple drank red drank I let the green slump me
I let the yellow slump me
They tried to run off with the flame and I blocked em' in
I swear yo hoe gon' get that flav if Im on her head (whew)
Pulled up in that fifteen thing
And I ain’t goin' in if I can’t bring my whoolie in
If I can’t get it then my whole got the whoole in
Ain’t no sans or no percs then you ain’t cruisin' in
I might just hit your blunt depending what you smoking in
Preferably a backwood stuffed both ends
Ain’t shit sweet, not letting a bitch go
The lean sweet, Im on some crisco
All these hoes cold blooded and my wrist cold
Bay area kush, Frisco
I fuck with white girl that snort coke the disco
I fuck with black girls that do her the Guwop
And we never gave a fuck about that rap check
We’ll go back inside that motherfuckin shoe box
Balenciaga high top, right now I got on Rebok
GS6 I’m riding round with the G Lock
I got a twelve band jug on my line right now
I let these streets turn me to a fuckin' cash cow
James Brown all that shit I wear that black and proud
I got them trappers with me right now
They say they Snootie Wild
You ain’t shit if you ain’t never been geeked out
For that gas and that drank I got a sweet spot
If I let up on these pussies I’m granting wishes
I used to put pounds in a expedition
I know you heard bout the guys I forgot to mention
All these hoes we ran through
We ride with two or three bangers for
Sick of the AP I’m bout to go Harry Winston
Put some diamonds in that bitch look like Bill Clinton
They tried to run off with the flame and I blocked em' in
I swear yo hoe gon' get that flav if Im on her head (whew)
Pulled up in that fifteen thing
And I ain’t goin' in if I can’t bring my whoolie in
If I can’t get it then my whole got the whoole in
Ain’t no sans or no percs then you ain’t cruisin' in
I might just hit your blunt depending what you smoking in
Preferably a backwood stuffed both ends