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Absolutly Correct (Only notes will be sent) Mostly Correct, yet.. The lyrics are wrong Very Wrong Not the lyrics to BLOCK BOI
You are about to report that the lyrics to BLOCK BOI By E-40 From the album MY GHETTO REPORT CARD (2006) as Mostly Correct, yet..., If this is what you want to do, You may fix the lyric in the boxes (populated for you) You might want to leave a comment with that too (optional) then click the submit, All fields are optional.
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Lyric Body	(feat. Miko, Stressmatic of The Federation) [Verse 1: E-40] Out here is sick, AR-70's and albino pits (Albino pits) Patriots and bushmasters, home invasions and licks I'm in it to make the most, you in it to flamboast (Boast) You in it to tricking off to them hoes, I'm in to make her buy me some clothes (Clothes) I be treating my scraper like a Rolls, lemme stop lying, no I don't (Don't) I be sideways on two toys, all the rappers call me Unc (Unc) Feasible, unheathable, the best thing that ever did it (Did it) Incredible like E. Jerome, you pitch it, I'm a hit it (Hit it) One of my youngsters just got popped with a thumper (Thumper) They tryna wash him, they talking football numbers (Football numbers) They tryna stop him, it's murk in the Ave (In the Ave) Take one of mine, I'm take three of theirs (Three of theirs) Some of you suckers can't take a lettuce from a cabbage (Cabbage) A coon from a plum, kangaroo from a radish (From a raddish) Look at my life, look at my guys, look at my fame (Look at my fame) Look at you guys, look at my eyes, look at my cane (Look at my cane) [Hook: Stressmatic x2] Block, block, block, block boi Block, b-block, b-block, block, block boi ... Block, block, block, block boi Ride with a thing to put your head on a slab [Verse 2: Miko] M wanted this piece, already (Already) Squat a 33-year-old Chevy (Old Chevy) Replace everything, all in Heat Cherry (Yeah) So much chrome under the hood, straight scary Get my grown man on, Sacramento Valley On 22's, playboy vet rallies (Rallies) Tremendo, to the extreme, where I go Pimping I'm cleaner than a San Jose car show ... Hotter than Barstow in August Chevy Land love me, I'm year one flawless (One flawless) The law just, pull up beside me, give me the thumbs up I turn the beat up like "That's what up" Hah, studio tone, yadadamean Got us mobbed out, smacking like magazine (Like magazine) When I wanna roll deep, I gotta van (Gotta van) But right now, it's young Meek in the waterbed [Hook: Stressmatic x2] Block, block, block, block boi Block, b-block, b-block, block, block boi ... Block, block, block, block boi Ride with a thing to put your head on a slab [Verse 3: E-40] Sick of turfs scorchers, smoking hot like a broken stove Me and my Filipinos, Tongans and Cholos ... On the soil, taking precaution On the roof, in the trees with the Latins, listening and watching, oooh ... Good grief, it's never been this ugly out here, we in some heavy beef They left his body in the streets for twelve hours Candlelight vigils, sidewalk funerals and flowers, oooh These youngsters aint listening, they disrespecting me Aint no OG's to holler at, no one to detonate, oooh ... Chemical babies, the parents smoking rocks Plus they aint never had a chance to know God (To know God) In my days, I was raised in the church Momma did what she could just to keep us off the turf (Keep us off the turf) ... But it aint no one to blame (But) But Noriega and Regan and rock cocaine [Hook: Stressmatic x2] Block, block, block, block boi Block, b-block, b-block, block, block boi ... Block, block, block, block boi Ride with a thing to put your head on a slab
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