Letras
Big Creature, the one and only, 227, yeah
Mafia, what else? Game Time, Blockworks
Yeah (who the hell is Carlo?)
Let's get it
All the pops and the clucks, all the heads and the licks, I done served up enough custos (trap, trap)
All the pots I done touched, all the races I spinned, I done stirred up enough trouble (where we at?)
I got more than enough clio (you know it), big four-fifth and a micro (ayy)
Blockworks get a man by the crate, need a forklift and a high-load (it's on)
We got ten legs, roam desert trails with a deadly tail with a stinger on it (them ickies)
Them bricks come stamped in the mail, double vacuum-sealed out of Teterboro (where we at?)
Twin fins in the shindig with the big wigs, gotta keep it thorough (salute)
Spin his bean, stick big as a twig how it's poppin' out of either barrel (brrt)
Told gang, "Play the banjo, if he flinch, you'll see them niggas' hands move" (watch)
Soul train on the dancefloor, niggas got a lot of tricky dance moves (Blockworks)
My niggas never needed validation (at all), when we ain't have it, niggas had to take it (for real)
Only time I lied was on the stand, it ain't never been no fabrication (uh-uh)
All family-orientated, call the cavalry, we ball like the Families (mafia)
Our reality no animation, saw them batteries turn to aggravated (uh)
Me and Taj really from the bottom, now I'm in the spot with six hundred thousand (big bro)
Been a lot of labor, gon' be more fruit, I just sit back and watch it all blossom (let's get it)
Yeah, it just will not matter
It's shattered just like clay
Yeah, it just will not matter
It's shattered just like clay
Clio bustin' out the gallery, made a hundred thousand off the pre-sale
All my finger tips to my toes, make nicks and dimes out to Abigail
On the block, bangin' "Really Doe" with the molly cap, white like shell
Ho thought it was a egg yolk 'til I scrap my heart and make cheese eggs
Pain green like a artichoke, niggas say they whole wear bean bags
Poppin' shrooms like Mario, I can't hear these hoes over feedback
Got my first sack, I was sixteen, I done took this shit out the west land
Got the pack over sixteen, now my fit clean and my bitch bad
It get cold like Minnesota but the block hot like a heatin' pad
Mix this shit like rigatoni, cut him up, then I give him salt baths
Lobster tail with the calamari, with the caviar, make my stomach fat
Seen a fiend hit the needle, hit the chrome, and now his forehead the hunchback
Took a chance, he a high-roller, took the Coca-Cola, then I gave it back
Took the chance with the paint and now he cuttin' up paper, lumberjack
On the block they call me Basquiat, van Gogh, Warhol and all that
Tried to stop the bleedin', menopause, but the thirty-ball he can't talk back
Yeah, it just will not matter
It's shattered just like clay
Yeah, it just will not matter
It's shattered just like clay