"Rollin' Down da Block" as written by Austin Patterson, Brian K. West, Patrick Earle Pitts and Cary L. Calvin....
Oh man, where my keys at man?

I can't find my keys

We're havin a problem with these old bustas out in the Central

Oh, here they go

Let's roll


Bow to the wow yippie-yo into the yeain

I can swing my sack really though I ain't playin

It's Young Prod with the S.C.C.

Breakin 'em off like a G.E. from the S.C. flee

(We're on a mission this is how we do it

Grey 6-4 on gold D's we them bluest)

Partner been crossed slippin in the hood where it's good

All good for me cause I got him for a G

(It's that fool with the chrome .9 Beretta)

(9-3 jetter - I.O.U. letter)

I don't give a mother-mad (huh) like a 17 switches

Gettin riches and gettin rid of bitches

Prod what you hittin for

(Two Tec-9's a safe full of money and a life of hard times)

Trigga-happy-pappy yo it's me

So never fade the better from a young-ass G

Oh, here I come as I swing with the gangstas

Suckas step up and he slip when I bank ya

The homie don't try to fade

If you can't hang with a young-ass G

From the hood where the yay' slangs flee

Rollin down the block

Rollin non-stop

Rollin in my '64 and I keep it drop...

Mobbin' down the block with the Glock

Got the 16 shots for the crooked-ass cop

Gots to be a true G see me later as I creep

Mausberg pump (jump) I put that ass on sleep

So tippy-tippy-toe as I float through the hood in my 4

Job-top-D's punk please (oh no)

G slidin' down tha block with the Glock cocked

Feelin' bigger picture Rhimeson droppin non-stop

Hits for the streets as I groove like a G

Hollow point tips in the cut playin' low key

You got the (1-2-3) for the set

Bend that ass over I'ma stuff it with the jet

Yeah, I hang around like herpes and tricks wanna slurp me

The Glock 10 is puttin in work G

Havikk from the C be a G with this N-U-T's

Hangin strong like a tree

Fool, so flee from, it's a C thang a G thang

Chronic all day (AK) goin insane

Droppin punks in the mud make his blood die the rug

In the hood where it's good cause I gets love



Yeah this is how the S.C.C. do they shit

In the '94

Yeah, 'In-Gatz-We-Trust-Style' on your ass

Murder Squad 4 life, fools


Break 'em off quicker with the trigger

Throw 'em in the river

Dip thru the hood while you figure

Why must I be like this

Is it cause I'm ruthless

Naw, gotta show 'em how I do this

Up in the mornin

Everybody sleep

While you countin sheep Prodeje is on the creep

Because I got the fever for the flavour

I got to get my wage to keep my car phone and my pager

I'm hittin' licks on the backstreets

Gotta get some gold thangs cause I wanna get fat freaks

Not the fat like a fat but the fat like a popper

That take ya to the 'tel for the popper

In the hood's where it's good

Let's make it understood I love the damned hood like my wood

G's hangin long like my family jewels

On the corners with the Ides mad-doggin the fools

Yeah, that gangsta rhyme has got me goin in circles

So you should be awakin like hearshal

It ain't nuthin goin on but the buck life bang

But in the hood's where the G's hang


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Rollin' Down da Block" as written by Brian K. West Austin Patterson

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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Rollin' Down da Block song meanings
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