Styles P - That's D-Block lyrics

[Styles P] Yeah! You know who it is You had that feeling when you seen us Right? [Hook: Styles P] They be pissy drunk and mad high (Yeah that's D-Block) Them n***as is mad live They be in shootouts and knife fights (Yeah that's D-Block) sh** real life right? They be in the hood with them crimey n***as (Yeah that's D-Block) We still grimy n***as They be in the streets like they own the sh**s (Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership Verse 1 [Bucky] I don't give a f** about not one of y'all bloods I come through swinging the chopper, like a golf club I don't give a f** about rap, I got it raw blood Soon as I get out of the booth, I'm copping more d** Cop, chop, bag up, sell, make the block rush f** a task force, they gon have to call the S.W.A.T. son f** ya arm or leg or let a n***a get ya top touched Jada been told y'all haters that y'all time is up I tie a n***a mom up, beat her with a crowbar Grab the vice grips, rip her motherf**in nose off That's the definition of war, no holds bar k** or be k**ed co*ks**er, Bucky go hard Verse 2 [Large Amounts] Too hard, who large, b**h n***as, high stakes I be on the grind late Large got a bite and I ain't even use a live bait Whip it real fast man, the crack made Halle put Isaiah in a trashcan Two guns up, we spitting them off Separate the crime scene the same way menace went off Chauffeurs open suicide doors for the bosses The coupe got 515 horses Large will dump, break them, boogie School of Hard Knocks, aim for the hooky Armek in the kitchen cooking cookies My n***as move wait like they body building And everyday the find a body in somebody building We in the streets [Hook] Verse 3 [A-P] I'm Mr. live wire n***a, dare a n***a try and force my hand All I need is gas and some matches just to torch your man Next is the coroner van, I'm pulling off a body If a 9 don't k** him, I'm a blow him with the shotty Aiming for his head, but I'll settle for a chest wound Catch him at the restaurant, coming out the restroom It's D-Block b**h, do my dirt and keep my hands clean Tryna throw the case, I'm a bounce like a trampoline Lawyers on standby, cops in the pocket n***as thought kiss left, so I'm throwing up the ROC sh** L.O.X. fam for life Paul burden, 3-5-4 move 1,000 grams a night Verse 4 [Straw] Straw quick to unholster the gun You shook n***a? Slowly hand over the funds I'm a crook n***a; show you how it's supposed to be done Open book n***a; show you how it's supposed to be won With a cannon similar to Manning Win home or road with a little bit up planning Kerosene tie a n***a up Trail blaze him like Channing, Frye a n***a up Who want what, stash box in the lambo 2 guns tucked, extra clips full of ammo It's still nothing to drop something 9mm I'm a shotgun gun him, I'm not fronting [Hook] Verse 5 [Snyp Life] Open up ya safe, I go hard every time that you face mine K-Ci flow, so the bars got baseline Get it? I don't waste mine, I flip it while you break dimes Get it how I live it, straight digits while you chase time I run through these new n***as, you can bring ya truest n***a Send him back leaking, show ya crew how I blew this n***a Even to the old heads, pop him like the clutch on a moped Leave my bars carved in their forehead n***a it's 3-5-4 I leave them all dead It's 32 up in that joint homie raw lead Hold weight with heat co*ked, my n***as that's D-Block 2 guns down but these pounds got the streets locked Verse 6 [Styles P] Yeah that's D-Block, yeah that's S.P Ghost or Phantom or whatever that suits you Murder n***as in the streets up in the booth too Shoot through, who ever produced you, or managed you Or hit you with some bars that will really f**ing damage you Ranked as a boss, but I'll always be a animal Bangs out, bangs out, anywhere you hangs out Chills at, murk you hit your son with a crills pack White boys too, I'll hit your son with a pill pack Hardcore too hard, knocking Wu-Tang When the car make the U-God, shooting two things that's bizarre How the ghost always like to take it too far [Hook]