Lyrics:
like Bloods and Crips
Styrofoam the noozles and extend the clips
Murder meets gangsta shit
And all my niggas that live it from hood to hood bang
Mary J. Blige, I'm 'bout to handle my biz (Uh huh)
I'm on my grown woman, still I rep for the kids
In every hood, and all my peoples doin' a bid (Turn
Rubber bird, turnin, and beatin like a congo
Try to jack, we pull the strap, say south pronto
King of the south, every hood's head honcho
I'm westside
laid out in the street
[50 Cent]
I hit your heart you dead, I squeeze 'til the semi run out
Niggaz know me good, I'm my hood call me a dumb out
and pull the strap, it's ASAP pronto
King of the South, every hood's head honcho
I'm Westside certified, go where the fuck I wanna go
Come and ride wit
make, sure, I don't get attached
That ba-da-buh-da
But it keeps, on, bringing me back
[Chorus]
[Pharrell]
Just know the whole hood is looking
for my niggaz down bottom and them hustlers on twenty-two's
Single parent mothers in the hood is who I'm talkin to
I know it's rough in the ghetto but
label, he'll never be able"
Well, nigga you've been wrong before
And you'll be wrong again if you bet against him
We move through the hood like
when I'm full of that white (absolute beyotch)
But it's the Birdman daddy with these ghe-tto stripes
Ghe-tto hood (Uptown), Ghe-tto pipe (9 Millimeter)
wann' problem wit' me? No problem, it's all good
I ain't fresh out the hood, I'm still in the hood
Black rims, black henny, nigga see me when ya see me
need no car
Robbie Chino pick me up with the bud and the bar
In the hood I'm-a star
So to the hood I'm-a go
With mike Jones and Snoop Dogg
wanna come test me,
Yup, come to my city, that's where I be
I ride all in the hood in my new Bentley wit my ass sit on jag
I don't give a fuck (what?!)
to the youngins in the hood
Cause I ain't Hollywood, I come from the hood
I'm used to it, if your rear view shaking and your seats vibrating
24 inch Dayton's got
fimiliar), they left the hood for change
(It all seems so fimiliar, fimiliar)
Why does everybodys story seem to sound the same? (It all seems so fimiliar,
Confess my sins
But still didn't find peace
But
Like MJ and five
I will six peak
(Third round!)
I write music for hood first
'Cause that's where
[Chorus: Master P]
I need dubs, when I ride to the club
Cruisin with my girls even rollin with thugs
I need dubs, 22's, 24's
Shinin in the hood I'm
Sometimes cats be sleepin' on the dead end
Drivin' with the car runnin' blinded
Ain't no love in the hood only hearts torn
Love letters to the innocent
gets spent up
And you want to get rid of
A hood bitch with game
And every bitch said I'm a good bitch
Fucking with the wood grain
Everybody still
playin with these niggaz, talk to 'em!
This is for my niggaz down bottom and them hustlers on twenty-two's
Single parent mothers in the hood is who I'm
and 9's
One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass bitches
Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on switches
I was raised in the hood called WHAT-THE-DIF'
Where
a pile of puss
I'm kickin' up much dust, the nigga ya can't trust
This is my shit, my hood, my turf
My gold, my grip, whatever the fuck it's worth
I
get popped, the hood gettin' hot
Ain't no cops around town, they afraid of gettin shot
Keep it on the low low, fuck that gang bang
Slang 'caine,
the product somewhere, choppin' bricks
We makin' the hood, or we gon' take it to the hood
Yeah we gangsters difference between us and y'all
We make it look
the product somewhere, choppin' bricks
We makin' the hood, or we gon' take it to the hood
Yeah we gangsters difference between us and y'all
We make it look
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