Artist: Lounge Lo f/ General Gemz, Hemstone Album: Drop City S.I.M.P.S.O.N. Song: Blood Typed by: Cno Evil [Chorus: all] B, L, triple O, D Trust me, whodie, you don't know me B, L, triple O, D Stay in some shit, keep the hammers on me B, L, triple O, D Don't fuck with outsiders, just my Stoneys B, L, triple O, D I pops the fuck off, that's why I'm O.G. [Hemstone] To be real, put it on the line and reveal I got a knob grill, an odd way of dawning the steel Blatantly, the love's lost through this whole ordeal The opposite of discreation but it's way more real The boy's a blessing, life lessons, be what you feel Out of respect, we did it, so we do what we feel Breaking bread's an expression, we ain't serving no meals Looking over the order of things and this is not a drill So what you betting, I like my odds in the seventh Operate for high stakes, we overdoing destined Beyond plotting, I'm long listed off the option I send a doctrine to have your whole block knocked in You losers locked in, while we open off this oxygen Dimes turn to divas, and wont never bop again Lost ovulance, it's over now, turn ya docket in Broadcast the bad news, you lost with the obvious [Chorus] [Lounge Lo] Aiyo, it's Bigalow O.D., now watch me O.D. Welcome to the hood, where them cats be laying low key The bloods be banging, the crips be crabbing I'm in the back, of the building where them chicks be laughing Getting gwop, skylining with homey, One Six Ooh I does what I do, yes, for all my Stoneys Like pop off, knock off, yessa ya top off It's Drop City S.I.M.P.S.O.N., it's a must I drop off And niggas don't believe, you know divas with no heaters I'm in the two-seater, right outside food eaters General Gem Star, you know the kid so picture me Giving the kid, your only ten bars That's Simpson son, all the way through We gon' take it to the casket, run in your crib, slay You and ya ratchet, and fuck you up up All in the tee, with the team, smoking piff and the dutch dutch [Chorus] [General Gemz] How the fuck do fake niggas claim king of New York When the last time you see these faggots bang in New York I make these cowards bow their head and kiss the ring of the boss Thing about force, nigga, we don't take loss It's that doomsday Stone, me and goons is home I advise ya'll niggas leave the bullshit alone We don't address you niggas, we undress you niggas Kentucky rap cat, Rick Patino press you niggas Get straight to the issue, boy-boy, the blood's official Ripped through ya tissue ligements and boy grissle You don't want the Stone to get with you, blow his whistle No, referee, throw you two shots for free Murder one, a/k/a A-One felony It's that three time violent persistent Rap with consistant, muthafucka, I wild in the instance Don't get it confused, I get at you dudes If you, seriously rude, I should of been food I'm a five rider, livewire, live by the rules Spit in my shoes, more than just payin' few dues I does what I does, I was born to do it This is, more than music, this is, murder unit I'm more abusive, fuck it, no more excuses