Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cocaine Central, artist - Wu-BlockDate of issue: 26.11.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Cocaine Central |
| Rain drops of water that turn into hard glaciers |
| Bob Barker microphones, I get paper |
| My block is cocaine central, eat your food |
| With ancient or new, crew utensils |
| Turbaned up like a royal prince from Medin' |
| With emerald green birthstones in my bling |
| Rolex goggles, some of my best side bitches |
| I ever had, I kept in a bottle |
| Sniff that girl, whiff that girl |
| Feel the rush from Cuban, no cut, that’s pearl |
| An oily base, extract from green leafs |
| Set out to dry, becomes white from the heat |
| Package stuck, to retails on the street |
| Yonkers all through Brownsville, ask Sheek |
| With my connect I may be the next Steve Jobs |
| My best cousy a nurse with college degrees, God |
| Triple black bags, and Champion cone hoods |
| Blending in with killas that visit the wrong hood |
| Pardon self, never the wrong hood |
| I’m safe, and I ain’t gotta knock on wood |
| Cocaine central, sniff city heater park |
| Fish scale mental, hustle, get the weed to spark |
| Niggas outside, all day, even after dark |
| Niggas hustle hard, like the Gods don’t believe in God |
| Coke in my blood, weed in my lungs |
| Barely staying up, bout to get some fried chicken from Wong’s |
| She laying there, ass all fat in the thongs |
| Hand me my gun, shades on, blocking the sun |
| Whip fresh out the dealer, think tonight gon' be fun |
| Coke connect already calling, I told him I take 'em, but |
| We can do better when his prices start falling |
| Nowadays I feel it’s no need to be greedy |
| Cuz you can make the same money off of pills and weed |
| Shooters indeed, jail system taught him to read |
| Streets taught him how to kill, wolves taught him to feed |
| Just like everything you learn, you gon' teach to your seed |
| Yo, but I don’t give a fuck, I clap off, try me, nigga |
| Keep that featherweight by me, nigga, yeah |
| Aiyo, Vel, call this nigga, man, what the fuck, B? |
| We sitting here forever, yo, Lorne, give me my phone, fam |
| Fucking call him, myself, hello? |
| Pretty Toney? |
| Wake the fuck up, man, we gotta leave, man |
| We going on this fucking European tour, what the fuck, we leaving or what |
| We sitting at the airport and shit, you left with them bitches last night |
| You ain’t that sick, nigga talking bout he got the flu and all that, come on, |
| man |
| And that bitch got a big fucking head and shit, man, what the fuck, man |
| Aiyo, Ghost, look-look, check it out right |
| I need to know if we doing this shit or not, man |
| I’mma chill for like, another 40 minutes and then I’m going home, aight |
| And then, then, then, yo, yo, but give that bitch my number when you done, |
| my nigga |
| Yo, but yo, hurry up, man, and don’t wear them fucking skinny jeans to this |
| airport, God |
| It’s a No-Skinny-Jean Air zone, aight? |