Block Boi Lyrics - My Ghetto Report Card - E-40

[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) 

Related 

15 Huge Stars Who Were Backup Singers First 

NEW SONG: Chris Lane - 'Big, Big Plans' (Video for Lauren) - LYRICS 

POPULAR SONG: Daddy Yankee & Snow - 'Con Calma' - LYRICS 

[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) 

Photos 

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