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no chorus, pt. 7 - blocboy jb lyrics

[intro]
bam (tay keith produced it)
ayy, man, that boy lil’ jb, man, i been doin’ this sh*t, man (dj dee boogie, n*gga)
you can ask my n*gga lil nate ’bout me, man, we been on the block, man
bam (tay keith produced it)
ayy, man, that boy lil’ jb, man, i been doin’ this sh*t, man
you can ask my n*gga lil nate ’bout me, man, we been on the block, man
ask my n*gga mind, man (ha), get that sh*t right
hol’ up, hol’ up, who is that callin’? (tay keith produced it)
(god forgive me, i done got a lil’ cold) who it is?
man, it’s bloc out here, n*gga say he got bars, sh*t, i wanna see what’s up (yeah, ha, yeah, woah)
what, you wanna go against me or somethin’?
h*ll yeah, man, check me out, man, i just wanna, just let me know what you think on this sh*t, man (woah, yeah)
you hear me? i don’t like this sh*t, though (ha)

[verse 1]
ayy, cuz, on crip, you are not hard
i’ma throw them bullets at you like i’m brett favre
how you losin’ when i got out? that’s a head start
ak*47, smith & wesson hit your whole squad
i’m in love with the meal, no nicki minaj
keep my team fed, ain’t talkin’ a charge
i only want the bread, yeah, you heard what i said
you can say, “it ain’t head,” and see for tomorrow
on the block, that’s what we discretion
we can draw them guns like the n*ggas from the wild, wild westin’
’bout to teach the peon a lesson, i’m on the roof and a sniper like my first name wesley
f*ck the police ’cause they petty
free lil’ rico, my boy jailin’
none of my n*ggas are tellin’
f*ck the misdemeanor, my young n*ggas felons
if you make a move, crack open your melon
my n*ggas about that green like some lettuce
n*ggas, they be jealous, loud, you can smell it
all my n*ggas strapped and all my n*ggas ready
you say that’s your boyfriend? broke, that pathetic
my nut all in the b*tch throat like a beverage
smokin’ on strong and my kush atlantic
everybody know that a n*gga grape, no jelly
tuesday night, man, i saw a opp
hit his ass with the .22 glock
blaze his ass, police comin’ fast
cuz hit the gas and don’t do stops
saw your b*tch, that’s a date, smack the ho with the glock
that’s what you get, stupid ho, for playin’ both sides
blocboy servin’ b*tches like some large fries
smack a d*ck on that b*tch pupil, now she c*ckeyed
put a n*gga in the water, now his ass baptized
leave a n*gga leakin’ like a motherf*ckin’ flat tire
b*tch, do not ask why, man, i’m tryna build a new franchise
i be out late like a vampire
n*gga gettin’ tailed like the dude off of empire
heat a n*gga up like a motherf*ckin’ lamp fire
choppa hit his neck like a godd*mn bow tie
n*gga diss the block, all you see and hear is gunfire
[interlude]
yeah, yeah, how you feel about that junt, man?
yeah, i f*ck with that junt, lil’ cuz, yeah, yeah
yeah, you f*ck with that junt?
h*ll yeah, yeah, but you gotta hear my junt, though
let me hear that junt, though
yeah, alright, here you go, i’m gonna give it to you
okay
for like 60, or a 1*2, yeah

[verse 2]
turnt the f*ck up with c gotti
n*gga diss crip, caught three bodies
beat a n*gga ass in the urinal
now everybody in the school call him “pee*body”
only smokin’ kush, i’m a weed body
whole club crip, it’s a c party
dee boogie in the club, he the g body
call k!ller pat, man, them p’s, they’ll get you sparkin’
run in your house like my name now rambo
sundario do feezy on go
440 lean, b*tch, that’s what i pour
440 lean, b*tch, your ass is poor
you got to roll, you better go
‘fore i hit you with the hundred rounds with the scope
i beat any b*tch’s neck like a sore throat
all your b*tch want is d, you’d think her daddy was a colt (tay keith produced it)
baby girl, give my d*ck a hickey
i have the type of girl that be tryna put a front on
she suck it so good, you would think lil’ mama front’s gone
feelin’ like a righteous man, head like to get my tongue on
i just bought a mini, gettin’ paid four hundred for jones
i ain’t talkin’ ’bout your talents, but these b*tches so gone
i ain’t talkin’ ’bout your pieces, but give his ass a tombstone
thirty shots up in the head, they say i did him too wrong
and i’m still takin’ women, n*gga supposed to take racks
boys got the 30 g’s, comin’ with the max
knock a n*gga out the park with the baseball bat
fresh as h*ll, rock jeans with the baseball hat
run up in your house and get to shootin’ like a shotta
k!ll a n*gga for the price of some balenciagas
do it b*i*g, baby, call me big poppa
crip love, mama, we can’t go to red lobster
if they in apartment, call red just to drop ’em
bullets hit his head, left him dead when i shot him
when they see to say to me and fled when they popped him?
if his body was a door, i knock him, down
caught his head in the water just to make the b*tch drown
like a graduation, baby, i just need cap and gown
i don’t have no feelings, baby, i don’t want no dealings
i just want a lil’ top, so put your face down
[outro]
put your face down
put your face down
go and tell a b*tch, “put your face down”
put your face down
put your face, face, face, face, face, face down, b*tch

- blocboy jb lyrics

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