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GHOSTFACE KILLAH lyrics : "Block Rock"

[Intro: scratched up samples]
"You out there, on now"
"Sorry... that's word, I'm not the herb"

"Understand what I'm saying, saying, saying"
"It's the hardcore"
"Set it off, rusty, low down"

"Following me, it be the God"
"Whatever, whatever"
"God all"

"All New York, ight"

[Ghostface Killah:]

Yo, aiyo, the Wally man's coming, you can hear his chain dangle
Brolic arm, check out the ankle
Best cuts, diamond sittin' sideways, like they sit in the cup

You can pour Goose on it, juice on it, two Jamaican [email protected]#%s
On the streets, cousin, word life, them big boy Toys'R'Us
Got them S5 fifties Maybach's, push suede back

Four hundred g's, on the concrete, save that
Like James Brown, it's the Big Payback
Same place you front's where you get laid at

Strong arm a ^!$$% for real, we eat ya food
Like dog, mutha$#[email protected], in replace of a meal
Give you a two hour car chase, flying through lakes and bushes

Holding the wheel, still burning the swishes
Exotic killas who bribe to kill us, and we pay for a tab
Don't matter what size the bill is

We don't need your support, wack speech your thought
Just to rhyme my %#@! when the tape cut off
The price of fame, a dope chain, the same chain

Yo, he tapped to the roof, watch the block, watch 'em hang

[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]

From Broad Street down to Milledge
You $#[email protected] with experienced killas
Mean wolves, silver back gorillas

Them Theodore kids' gorillas
You $#[email protected] with experienced killas
Silver back gorillas

[Ghostface Killah:]
The grenade gonna hit like a bomb from Flex

The street is never at peace when I palm a tech
My enemies is sub, dude, I'm a black belt
The moves I do, is how Bruce stick Kareem Abdul

Same dudes give a (*##$ booze, stupid rich dudes
Crystal, chandellier ice, keep a wrist full
Cuz, if Lil' Jon, can ice his cup

I top that %#@!, and ice my nuts
See I'm a threat when it comes to rocks
At 3 A.M., you like damn, who put the sun on the block

Is he crazy? Illuminate like the Son of God
And still pull up in the hoopted out rented car
With dust and weed on him, knock the neighborhood bully out

Take his gun and pee on him
The magazines cant develop my flicks
The negatives came, and printed out them c-note chips

Keep the heat flaming, beats banging, bottle of weed stanking
Competition, yo, I'm giving out strict spankings
Burn 'em like bacon, some want Satan

In the hell fire, screaming, yo I'm sorry for faking, baking


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