That's D-Block

[Intro: Styles P] Yeah! You know who it is You had that feeling when you seen us Right? [Chorus: Styles P] They be pissy drunk and mad high (Yeah that's D-Block) Them niggas is mad live They be in shootouts and knife fights (Yeah that's D-Block) Shit real life right? They be in the hood with them crimey niggas (Yeah that's D-Block) We still grimy niggas They be in the streets like they own the shits (Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership [Verse 1: Bucky] I don't give a fuck about not one of y'all bloods I come through swinging the chopper, like a golf club I don't give a fuck about rap, I got it raw blood Soon as I get out of the booth, I'm copping more drugs Cop, chop, bag up, sell, make the block rush Fuck a task force, they gon have to call the S.W.A.T. son Fuck ya arm or leg or let a nigga get ya top touched Jada been told y'all haters that y'all time is up I tie a nigga mom up, beat her with a crowbar Grab the vice grips, rip her motherfuckin nose off That's the definition of war, no holds bar Kill or be killed cocksucker, Bucky go hard [Verse 2: Large Amount] Too hard, who large, bitch niggas, high stakes I be on the grind late Large got a bite and I ain't even use a live bait Whip it real fast man, the crack made Halle put Isaiah in a trashcan Two guns up, we spitting them off Separate the crime scene the same way menace went off Chauffeurs open suicide doors for the bosses The coupe got 515 horses Large will dump, break them, boogie School of Hard Knocks, aim for the hooky Armek in the kitchen cooking cookies My niggas move wait like they body building And everyday the find a body in somebody building We in the streets [Chorus: Styles P] They be pissy drunk and mad high (Yeah that's D-Block) Them niggas is mad live They be in shootouts and knife fights (Yeah that's D-Block) Shit real life right? They be in the hood with them crimey niggas (Yeah that's D-Block) We still grimy niggas They be in the streets like they own the shits (Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership [Verse 3: A-P] I'm Mr. live wire nigga, dare a nigga try and force my hand All I need is gas and some matches just to torch your man Next is the coroner van, I'm pulling off a body If a 9 don't kill him, I'm a blow him with the shotty Aiming for his head, but I'll settle for a chest wound Catch him at the restaurant, coming out the restroom It's D-Block bitch, do my dirt and keep my hands clean Tryna throw the case, I'm a bounce like a trampoline Lawyers on standby, cops in the pocket Niggas thought kiss left, so I'm throwing up the ROC shitL.O.X. fam for life Paul burden, 3-5-4 move 1,000 grams a night [Verse 4: Straw] Straw quick to unholster the gun You shook nigga? Slowly hand over the funds I'm a crook nigga; show you how it's supposed to be done Open book nigga; show you how it's supposed to be won With a cannon similar to Manning Win home or road with a little bit up planning Kerosene tie a nigga up Trail blaze him like Channing, Frye a nigga up Who want what, stash box in the lambo 2 guns tucked, extra clips full of ammo It's still nothing to drop something 9mm I'm a shotgun gun him, I'm not fronting [Chorus: Styles P] They be pissy drunk and mad high (Yeah that's D-Block) Them niggas is mad live They be in shootouts and knife fights (Yeah that's D-Block) Shit real life right? They be in the hood with them crimey niggas (Yeah that's D-Block) We still grimy niggas They be in the streets like they own the shits (Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership [Verse 5: Snyp Life] Open up ya safe, I go hard every time that you face mine K-Ci flow, so the bars got baseline Get it? I don't waste mine, I flip it while you break dimes Get it how I live it, straight digits while you chase time I run through these new niggas, you can bring ya truest nigga Send him back leaking, show ya crew how I blew this nigga Even to the old heads, pop him like the clutch on a moped Leave my bars carved in their forehead Nigga it's 3-5-4 I leave them all dead It's 32 up in that joint homie raw lead Hold weight with heat cocked, my niggas that's D-Block 2 guns down but these pounds got the streets locked [Verse 6: Styles P] Yeah that's D-Block, yeah that's S.P Ghost or Phantom or whatever that suits you Murder niggas in the streets up in the booth too Shoot through, who ever produced you, or managed you Or hit you with some bars that will really fucking damage you Ranked as a boss, but I'll always be a animal Bangs out, bangs out, anywhere you hangs out Chills at, murk you hit your son with a crills pack White boys too, I'll hit your son with a pill pack Hardcore too hard, knocking Wu-Tang When the car make the U-God, shooting two things that's bizarre How the ghost always like to take it too far [Chorus: Styles P] They be pissy drunk and mad high (Yeah that's D-Block) Them niggas is mad live They be in shootouts and knife fights (Yeah that's D-Block) Shit real life right? They be in the hood with them crimey niggas (Yeah that's D-Block) We still grimy niggas They be in the streets like they own the shits (Yeah that's D-Block) We claim ownership