Stuck In The Streets

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Hit-Boy

Chauncey Hollis, Jr. (born May 21, 1987), better known by his stage name Hit-Boy, is an American record producer, rapper, and songwriter from Fontana, California. In May 2011, Hollis had signed a deal with Kanye West's GOOD Music production wing, known as Very G.O.O.D. Beats and left the label after his contract expired in June 2013. In December 2012, it was revealed he had signed a recording contract with Interscope Records, and subsequently founded his own record label imprint, Hits Since '87. He is perhaps best known for his production catalog, which includes "Niggas in Paris" by Jay-Z and Kanye West, "Drop the World" by Lil Wayne and Eminem, and the GOOD Music single "Clique", all of which have been certified platinum or higher by the Recording Industry A… more »

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Hit-Boy

Bitch, I been that nigga, ask that bitch what
When you down on your ass, who gon' pick you up?
It only take one call for me to get you touched
Brodie bro gon' slide with shotty pump, that's that Ricky run
Goin' through some shit, hard not to think about
Glock my necessity, bitch, I can't leave without
If you my nigga, be my nigga, ain't no keepin' count
Pop a Perc before I f*ck her, watch me beat it down
I'm just gon' put it in her gut, you gon' eat her out
Put that pressure on a nigga, what you be about?
Yeah, you be rappin' 'bout that block, but you don't be around
Pop up to a sucka's show, that won't be announced, bitch

And I'ma catch a body 'fore I catch a feelin'
Once I peep your true colors, shit was extra different
Heard the feds got a case, they're tryna hit us with it
But I'ma catch a flight 'fore I get caught up in it
I was posted on that block, just a young nigga
223's, I bring them chops, we don't go ones, nigga
Parked up in their business, tryna catch a nigga slippin'
But them niggas don't come out, it's like we funkin' with our bitches
When you stuck up in them streets, it ain't no way up out it
I lost my nigga to this shit, we sprayed that K about it
And every time we pull a skit, we ain't gon' speak about it
You postin' pictures with that strap, but you don't scare nobody

To a broke ho, three words: "Bitch, f*ck it" ("Bitch, f*ck it")
Hit it from the back, then kick her out, we don't cut 'em
Glock hold 30, shoot a couple, make 'em tumble (boom, boom-boom)
All facts, no cap, real rap, this ain't mumble
If the pussy wet, dive in, I'd love to (I'd love to)
When them bullets fly, bitch where you gon' run to? (Where you gon' run to?)
Suckas flexin' all these guns, we got guns too (we got guns too)
Hit your bitch from the back and got sucked too (nigga)
Hella foreigns back-to-back and we lane changin' (skrrt skrrt)
You ain't ready for these streets, they ain't a safe haven
What's the point of havin' ass if it ain't shakin'?
If this Glock get to barkin', then I can't tame it (boom boom)
Young niggas with that bag, yeah, we been hot (been hot)
If them suckas was outside, they would've been dropped (nerd)
If you let the bitch breathe, she would've been knocked
You ain't bringin' in no guap, bitch, kick rocks

And I'ma catch a body 'fore I catch a feelin'
Once I peep your true colors, shit was extra different
Heard the feds got a case, they're tryna hit us with it
But I'ma catch a flight 'fore I get caught up in it
I was posted on that block, just a young nigga
223s, I bring them chops, we don't go ones, nigga
Parked up in their business, tryna catch a nigga slippin'
But them niggas don't come out, it's like we funkin' with our bitches
When you stuck up in them streets, it ain't no way up out it
I lost my nigga to this shit, we sprayed that K about it
And every time we pull a skid, we ain't gon' speak about it
You postin' pictures with that strap, but you don't scare nobody

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