No Chorus, Pt. 5 lyrics

[Intro]
No Chorus, Pt. 5, n*gga
BlocBoy, BlocBoy

[Chorus]
Turned up to the max, I know my block got my back
If a n*gga talkin' foul I'ma smack him with a stack
Your b*tch in the club dancin' so I smacked her on her ass
If you try me with that f*ck sh*t I'ma come back with the MAC

[Verse]
All that loud talkin' he doin', I swear I got somethin' to silence him
Infrared beam, no silencer, walk around like I'm a scavenger
Shotgun up on me, no passenger, in the midnight, no dub vision
b*tches called me ugly when I had Levis, got fire with True linen
b*tches be gold diggin', lookin' for gold
A b*tch can't get a booger out of my nose
On the block like Boozer but ballin' like Rose
You known for this bullsh*t, you know how it goes
b*tches is b*tches and hoes is hoes
Never wife a thot, you know they gon' go
Water whippin' pots up on the stove
Somebody tell 'em they plugged with they nose
No I'm not that guy but when you see me b*tch you see money
I'm with TP Stacks, then you know we yellin' free C-Money
Thirty on my side, don't run on me, this b*tch hold a hundred
MAC up to his back, give me that, I need all your money
Block full of hitters, pops was a drug dealer
f*ck the police, they locked him up and took his scrilla
I looked up in the mirror and I see a real n*gga
Still the same n*gga that won't hesitate to deal with you
You say that I'm broke my n*gga, how is that?
b*tch I'm stickin' to this paper like a thumbtack
You think that that is your n*gga but really he a rat
He gon' snitch up on you if y'all get caught with that pack
That pack y'all came in, you can buy whatever
Try to rob me, my clip hold more rounds than Mayweather
Your b*tch is not faithful and she bought me a Gucci sweater
But she is worse on it, sometimes I wish I never met her
Most of these n*ggas they say they gon' ride
But when it's war time they sit back and hide
Them be the n*ggas that we're not surprised
What happened to confidence, where is our pride
I ride for my n*ggas, I ride for my guys
If they have a problem, I feel like it's right
Lost Simi and C-Rock 'cause C-Rock done died
And Grape Street the cemetery won't be divine
My new b*tch she a mess, seen my text that I sent my ex
So lately I been stressed but I ain't never smoke no cigarette
My mama said I'm blessed, I finish you and still ain't got some yet
If you play I leave you wet, I pop a n*gga like a percocet
RIP to Bo, I just pulled up in a Maserati
JJ on the phone, tell him that it's time to catch a body
I'm the same n*gga, still ridin' 'round with C-Gotti
Pockets workin' out, sometimes I let them hoes do pilates
Kick it with your b*tch, no karate (class)
n*gga sneak dissin', I'ma have to (spazz)
n*gga throw it back, send them hitters at his ass
Now he dead, he don't really need an ambu- (lance)
Young n*gga tryna be the bigger (man)
And stack up my dividends
Walk around the block with all of this green on me
I'm feelin' like Peter Pan
Can't tell these n*ggas stop sleepin' on me
I got your b*tch in the bedroom sleepin' on me
She wanna f*ck but I don't really even want her
She wake me up like a sunny [?] callin'
You not a rack then you f*ck n*ggas phony
Say y'all is ready but y'all do not want it
Tell your b*tch, take it off, real strippers only
Grape on my shirt like Tony, [?]
If there is a problem you will get your face fractured
Couple headshots than your ass fall backwards
n*gga you a b*tch and your n*ggas they some cowards
Bet when y'all was young y'all wanted to be actors
And that's what y'all is, some motherf*ckin' actors
Standin' on the block like the neighborhood pastor
Thinkin' you the sh*t 'til your ass get clapped up
[?] 'cause it really don't matter
[Chorus]
Turned up to the max, I know my block got my back
If a n*gga talkin' foul I'ma smack him with a stack
Your b*tch in the club dancin' so I smacked her on her ass
If you try me with that f*ck sh*t I'ma come back with the MAC