Song parody of
Block Niggas
by Savantthe9 King Martin
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Showed up to a party last night with my gear on new spear on, got the glock in my pocket by the earphones, dressed to kill feeling like I probably can, I hope nobody aint trippin, because I probably am.
I pulled up with some alcohol, niggas looking crazy but it’s cracking though, pussy everywhere I ain’t had befo’. Mufukas draped in bandanas, they was avid bro, brown rag I ain’t have it out, but I had it though. Best believe I’m finna let it breathe on grout. I’m about supersede my mouth. All that talk about them 40 boys don’t never come out, now we here punk let’s see what niggas talking about.
I’m hollin hold up, throw some mufuckin fo’s up, hold up, look some block niggas showed up, hey hold up, throw a mufuckin fo up, hold up, look some block niggas showed up.
That perjury to say that you gone murder me. All my niggas die for me or they gone take the first degree. Fuck it I’m a slumlord, came from the forty block, over there by the Carey Arms across the street from Gerson Parks. I’m just trying to diversify, ruger in that 40 block, see me with that Smith and Wesson now you niggas humble pie. Not talking about some shit you heard, I’m talkin bout some shit I did, seeing dead bodies ya’ll was playing Sega Genesis. Don’t open up your mouth to me, couldn’t walk a day with me. I’m a grown man mufucka don’t you play with me. Wait, I push buttons, send them boys to run you down. Could have been some track stars but they never made it out. Murder mafia nigga, aint no stoppin my niggas, get in in his mufuckin way, the youngest poppin you niggas and droppin you niggas, air this whole place out to put a stop to you niggas.
You don’t want problems with no street niggas, we don’t just do this on beats, we really delete niggas. How bout walk shit down on feet nigga. You don’t want no early grave nigga fucking with them grave diggas. And you know I love to pop shit, knock a nigga out his sock shit, I really love to drop shit. Nothing better but a profit, know them youngest reapers they just waiting for a body. Rapping like the business in this murder shit my hobby, living for the moment when that a pussy nigga try me. We know that you ain’t hard, you just frontin for your posse, violence is the remedy so I’ma catch a body. And we won’t never beef if niggas come correct, but it seem niggas always coming with some disrespect. It aint nothin for me to hunt you down, I come to collect. When I show up with some killas, ain’t no need to have vest cause we aiming for your neck. And my lil bro will kill you and he won’t break a sweat, aint got time for no bitch so ain’t no rollies or protecks, the illest in my city aint’ no nigga iller yet, and I put that on the set.
Showed up to a party last night with my gear on new spear on, got the glock in my pocket by the earphones, dressed to kill feeling like I probably can, I hope nobody aint trippin, because I probably am.
I pulled up with some alcohol, niggas looking crazy but it’s cracking though, pussy everywhere I ain’t had befo’. Mufukas draped in bandanas, they was avid bro, brown rag I ain’t have it out, but I had it though. Best believe I’m finna let it breathe on grout. I’m about supersede my mouth. All that talk about them 40 boys don’t never come out, now we here punk let’s see what niggas talking about.
I’m hollin hold up, throw some mufuckin fo’s up, hold up, look some block niggas showed up, hey hold up, throw a mufuckin fo up, hold up, look some block niggas showed up.
That perjury to say that you gone murder me. All my niggas die for me or they gone take the first degree. Fuck it I’m a slumlord, came from the forty block, over there by the Carey Arms across the street from Gerson Parks. I’m just trying to diversify, ruger in that 40 block, see me with that Smith and Wesson now you niggas humble pie. Not talking about some shit you heard, I’m talkin bout some shit I did, seeing dead bodies ya’ll was playing Sega Genesis. Don’t open up your mouth to me, couldn’t walk a day with me. I’m a grown man mufucka don’t you play with me. Wait, I push buttons, send them boys to run you down. Could have been some track stars but they never made it out. Murder mafia nigga, aint no stoppin my niggas, get in in his mufuckin way, the youngest poppin you niggas and droppin you niggas, air this whole place out to put a stop to you niggas.
You don’t want problems with no street niggas, we don’t just do this on beats, we really delete niggas. How bout walk shit down on feet nigga. You don’t want no early grave nigga fucking with them grave diggas. And you know I love to pop shit, knock a nigga out his sock shit, I really love to drop shit. Nothing better but a profit, know them youngest reapers they just waiting for a body. Rapping like the business in this murder shit my hobby, living for the moment when that a pussy nigga try me. We know that you ain’t hard, you just frontin for your posse, violence is the remedy so I’ma catch a body. And we won’t never beef if niggas come correct, but it seem niggas always coming with some disrespect. It aint nothin for me to hunt you down, I come to collect. When I show up with some killas, ain’t no need to have vest cause we aiming for your neck. And my lil bro will kill you and he won’t break a sweat, aint got time for no bitch so ain’t no rollies or protecks, the illest in my city aint’ no nigga iller yet, and I put that on the set.
