Shine Blockas

Yeah! All the ladies say, "ho"
All the hoes say...
(Hah, hah, hah)
Gucci up! Here we go
A-Town, C-Port

Cutmasta Swiff down ya throat

Shawty

Boy stop, Sir Luscious Left Foot's on fire
Trying to block my shine just ain't gone happen so don't try (boy)
Every time I get on this microphone I like to spit

Inking hit up after hit
This penmanship is so legit
I came equipped like an prophylactic
Now they riding dick, like

Stalin' on these suckas out here tryin' to buy they bitch
Now they rich, try to piss everybody to trick off
But a true boss to pay the cost, she giving away her drawls
Word to the brown James he some chicken chow mein
Really man, you done say some silly things

And the fella Dana Dane, boy, you cuffin' claim to game
Hate my main thang and my last name ya notta mayne

I'm on my grind, shawty
Don't block my shine, shawty
Hold up, hold up, guess who just showed up?
Rolled up, rolls cut, drop with the doors up

I'm on my grind, shawty
Don't block my shine, shawty
Wait a minute, wait a minute

Chill a little, sit a minute
I can't close my safe no more
'Cause I got too much money in it

Gucci in the cell; did a deal, went to jail
I make music, I make movies, I'm in Tyler Perry's cell
I smell coming out the lam', fuck it, what the hell
Gucci Mane, so I'm Guccied down; she got on Chanel
In the tent rolling stupid kush like I'm in the restroom
In the club with a half a pound (hundred fifty blunts)
Zone 6 — East Atlanta — don't fuck with Nia Long
So shine like it's show-time, all my jewelry on
On the block with the stupid watch
Boy, you need to stop!
When I stop, everybody watch the car without a top
In the streets 'cause a stupid chick roll another pack
Now I'm gone, I can't even flip
Eastside where you at?
I'm on my grind, shawty
Don't block my shine, shawty
Hold up, hold up, guess who just showed up?
Rolled up, rolls cut, drop with the doors up
I'm on my grind, shawty
Don't block my shine, shawty

Wait a minute, wait a minute
Chill a little, sit a minute
I can't close my safe no more
'Cause I got too much money in it

Can't be tripping 'bout no paper 'cause the safe is not so safe
The piggy bank got legs and feet,
and can't get up and walk away, shawty
With my southern drawl,
awkwardly I spray, like the backside of a skunk
And the stash house with the pump
Pistol whip in my lap at all times in the 'lac
From Atlanta to Savannah can't a nigga stop that
Not when God's got his hands on me, only the strong survive
And the weak-minded are falling by the wayside, they try

But which I overcome and succeed indeed
But with success comes a great responsibility
We chose to lead not follow
It's a hard pill to swallow
Better get prescriptions filled 'cause there might not be tomorrow

I'm on my grind, shawty
Don't block my shine, shawty
Hold up, hold up, guess who just showed up?
Rolled up, rolls cut, drop with the doors up

I'm on my grind, shawty
Don't block my shine, shawty
Wait a minute, wait a minute
Chill a little, sit a minute
I can't close my safe no more
'Cause I got too much money in it

Yeah, yeah, ye'-yeah!
A-Town, represent 'em
East Point, College Park... Decatur
Yeah, I got my armor on, sword and shield on deck
Yeah



Credits
Writer(s): Antwan Patton, Radric Delantic Davis, Leon Huff, Kenneth Gamble, Archie Hall
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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