Lyrics:
Blocks on fire (Block's on fire tonight)
Fiends getting higher (uh-huh)
Robbing blue collar
(Hey yo we rob them blue collars)
Killing for a dollar (Stick
dutch
Ow, the bubble butch
All up in the party swangin' E's and C's
Wit a car full a heat, hope you want my beats
I came to the party dog by myself
Twenty
was sitting on the stoop of my block
Another hot sunny day in the city of dreams
Ghetto thang when they pack metal thang's
(to sell'o thangs) it seems
live by the codes of the ghetto though
My potna take boogers right out your nose
We keep standing ground, ten toes
Chain flashing, no tinfoil
Wrap em,
the streets
It's from the sirens, red, white and blue
When the boys in blue, they coming for you
They aiming at your head and they shooting at you
Bad boys
Chorus
Motherfuckers want to know what it do
They want to know if its the red or the blue
bitch niggas want to know if its true
tell these
Dirty Cash *echoes*
Dirty Cash *echoes*
Yeah, uhh
[singers] Uhhh! Blue Angels, Blue Angels, Blue Angels!
Yo, yo, yo
Yo it's the ghetto diplo',
sip drank by the paint so we stay throwed
And play our music slow
Ride red and ride blue
Them blue riders bang Watts, reds bang Screw
And on the North
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
when we were kings
Blocks on fire (Block's on fire tonight)
Fiends getting higher (uh-huh)
Robbing blue collar
(Hey yo we rob them blue collars)
the motherfucking man
Daygo Land won't catch me by the crib
Spend my days getting doe spent my nights blowing piff
Imma ghetto man tryna get it how I live
Don't know
double dutch
Ow, the bubble butch
All up in the party swangin' E's and C's
Wit a car full a heat, hope you want my beats
I came to the party dog by
Dizzee talking
So what you thinkin bout london city aye, Wachu fink u kna ?
Big ben tells the time
Background â??east London,
ghetto, west London,
The game has changed now real bosses taking losses
Wake up young ghetto soldiers and know the truth
Trust no man and by all means guard your booth
Real words
mind over matter it's got a true-school-blue
betty cracker made it better
poindex the flex to track by Busta
with a little bit of sore from
the lights on
Feel like canelo I cant help but shine
I feel like cuauhtemoc back in his prime
I feel like blue demon the best of my kind
I came from the ghetto
that jock
I got killas in my click
And I keep thugs on my block
I'm just letting you know don't test me
I'm with my chrome
I'm still in my ghetto peel
up to us to use
The power the right way, nah'm sayin'?
And right now it's all about
Writin' these ghetto scriptures, man
Only a selective few can
Chuck Taylors
Dark fat laces and fetti with big-ass faces
Blue gators (?), X.O. by the cases
The rider ringleader with weed and my zag smashin
Ya bang
Dirty Cash *echoes*
Dirty Cash *echoes*
Yeah, uhh
[singers] Uhhh! Blue Angels, Blue Angels, Blue Angels!
Yo, yo, yo
Yo it's the ghetto diplo',
that back ahh
Balling and dunking ma life is a ball
Rolling for the streets, shooting for the moon
Back in the studio we call it the ghetto
We cooking
They liars, at the end of the day, we're fuckin' survivors
I remember watchin' Scarface the first time
Look at that big house, that Porsche paid for by
we got jerked but still invented them
Wicked litle kick it joints that got us ghetto wheight
And also kept the jazz alive by pulling off the plates
Picture a bright blue ball just spinning, spinning free
Dizzy with eternity.
Paint it with a skin of sky, brush in some clouds and sea
Call it
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