The Rock Show Lyrics
| Song | The Rock Show |
| Artist | Fiend |
| Album | Street Life |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Verse one： | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| I ain't never had shit, now i plot to piss or a stick | |
| Ain't nothing in my jeans but some lint and some dick | |
| Who wanna hunger young rick | |
| Thinking i can't get, out the situation | |
| I'm 'bout to make these bitches sick | |
| Since a little nigga, started to vision nigga | |
| Now when dophines' surely come, i know how much to give her | |
| Single bags to dimes, dimes, tens to twhomp twhomps | |
| Catch me in the set and i'ma have what'cha want want | |
| Playing it raw, i ain't out here for my health | |
| And tell the temp service, ain't blood myself | |
| Enjoyed myself, blocks away from the melt | |
| And proving thy self from cream that don't melt | |
| Chorus: | |
| (nigga why) before real nigga's kiss up to the man (whomp) | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| If it ain't legal and from uncle sam | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| How i get them cars, houses, and land | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| You ain't seeing shit till money in hand | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| Verse two: | |
| My brother and cousin got a plan | |
| Look, that dope ain't got touch my hands | |
| But yet this bad and i'm the one with the life sands | |
| A ten millimeter for protection | |
| For any jacker or badge that run up in my section, and ah | |
| I cost to cigars from being broke | |
| And this ain't lemonheads or no bar of soap, and ah | |
| To old for mcdonalds, that killed hope | |
| And all the hustla's around my way got cars with no notes, so ah | |
| Penetentries chance's here i come | |
| That nigga move to fast i'ma pop his ass one (pop) | |
| Drop his ass one (pop) | |
| Bringing home the brick | |
| What 'ya know when the fiend got his own started up git | |
| Chorus |
| Verse one: | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| I ain' t never had shit, now i plot to piss or a stick | |
| Ain' t nothing in my jeans but some lint and some dick | |
| Who wanna hunger young rick | |
| Thinking i can' t get, out the situation | |
| I' m ' bout to make these bitches sick | |
| Since a little nigga, started to vision nigga | |
| Now when dophines' surely come, i know how much to give her | |
| Single bags to dimes, dimes, tens to twhomp twhomps | |
| Catch me in the set and i' ma have what' cha want want | |
| Playing it raw, i ain' t out here for my health | |
| And tell the temp service, ain' t blood myself | |
| Enjoyed myself, blocks away from the melt | |
| And proving thy self from cream that don' t melt | |
| Chorus: | |
| nigga why before real nigga' s kiss up to the man whomp | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| If it ain' t legal and from uncle sam | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| How i get them cars, houses, and land | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| You ain' t seeing shit till money in hand | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| Verse two: | |
| My brother and cousin got a plan | |
| Look, that dope ain' t got touch my hands | |
| But yet this bad and i' m the one with the life sands | |
| A ten millimeter for protection | |
| For any jacker or badge that run up in my section, and ah | |
| I cost to cigars from being broke | |
| And this ain' t lemonheads or no bar of soap, and ah | |
| To old for mcdonalds, that killed hope | |
| And all the hustla' s around my way got cars with no notes, so ah | |
| Penetentries chance' s here i come | |
| That nigga move to fast i' ma pop his ass one pop | |
| Drop his ass one pop | |
| Bringing home the brick | |
| What ' ya know when the fiend got his own started up git | |
| Chorus |
| Verse one: | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| I ain' t never had shit, now i plot to piss or a stick | |
| Ain' t nothing in my jeans but some lint and some dick | |
| Who wanna hunger young rick | |
| Thinking i can' t get, out the situation | |
| I' m ' bout to make these bitches sick | |
| Since a little nigga, started to vision nigga | |
| Now when dophines' surely come, i know how much to give her | |
| Single bags to dimes, dimes, tens to twhomp twhomps | |
| Catch me in the set and i' ma have what' cha want want | |
| Playing it raw, i ain' t out here for my health | |
| And tell the temp service, ain' t blood myself | |
| Enjoyed myself, blocks away from the melt | |
| And proving thy self from cream that don' t melt | |
| Chorus: | |
| nigga why before real nigga' s kiss up to the man whomp | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| If it ain' t legal and from uncle sam | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| How i get them cars, houses, and land | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| You ain' t seeing shit till money in hand | |
| 36 ounces of thousand in grams | |
| Verse two: | |
| My brother and cousin got a plan | |
| Look, that dope ain' t got touch my hands | |
| But yet this bad and i' m the one with the life sands | |
| A ten millimeter for protection | |
| For any jacker or badge that run up in my section, and ah | |
| I cost to cigars from being broke | |
| And this ain' t lemonheads or no bar of soap, and ah | |
| To old for mcdonalds, that killed hope | |
| And all the hustla' s around my way got cars with no notes, so ah | |
| Penetentries chance' s here i come | |
| That nigga move to fast i' ma pop his ass one pop | |
| Drop his ass one pop | |
| Bringing home the brick | |
| What ' ya know when the fiend got his own started up git | |
| Chorus |
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