[Intro: Styles P]
Yeah!
You know who it is
You had that feeling when you seen us
Right?
[Chorus: 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) Shit 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 shits
(Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership
[Verse 1: Bucky]
I don't give a fuck about not one of y'all bloods
I come through swinging the chopper, like a golf club
I don't give a fuck about rap, I got it raw blood
Soon as I get out of the booth, I'm copping more drugs
Cop, chop, bag up, sell, make the block rush
Fuck a task force, they gon have to call the S.W.A.T. son
Fuck 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 motherfuckin nose off
That's the definition of war, no holds bar
Kill or be killed cocksucker, Bucky go hard
[Verse 2: Large Amount]
Too hard, who large, bitch 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
[Chorus: 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) Shit 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 shits
(Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership
[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 kill 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 bitch, 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 shitL.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
[Chorus: 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) Shit 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 shits
(Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership
[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 cocked, 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 fucking 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
[Chorus: 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) Shit 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 shits
(Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership
