Lyrics:
Not a gun or a rifle
Not a knife for them to stifle
Put my hand upon the Bible
Open it and get an eye-full
Tryna keep my head
Above water and not
they slick
Till you get your ass set up by a project, bitch
It's hard to process quick, you could lose your life
By a baby tiny loc, tryna prove they
I was thirteen I was having that shit
I was right there wit Dion Derek nem gettin it
HA ridin thru the hood on bikes
I was tuckin that pack in
back
Gotta keep it natural
True to the source blast off with some sassafras
Pat me on the backside
I'll remember that
It's an oracle
Omen radical
Now
NIGGA
IN THAT HOOD LIFE THAT GOOD LIFE
ILL NEVER FORGET THE HOOD NIGHTS
SMOKIN' ON THAT GOOD LIGHT
IF YOU WANT IT IMS GET CHU RITE
EVERYDAY
niggas on the project
Shout out the one and only Quake Beats, aka Big Pat Raps
Shout out my nigga Mike from New Orleans
Shout out DV on the track
Shout
the hood
But them rappers don't live there they live in Hollywood
It ain't about where you at, it's about where you from
If you ever go back they might hit
to da Windsor gameS
3 6 mafia... project pat
N Watch who u kicc it to cuz
CG MITE JUST RUN DAT BITCH BACC
Bacc in da day life was sweet
Don't kno Cody I
Uhh, still out in these motherfuckin' projects
Still a nigga, ain't never gonna get the fuck up outta here
Niggaz, just don't understand the story
of somebodys dance floor like whatever
Drop!
I keep it hood for you baby cause on the down low mama knows what good for you baby
Whats good for me baby
the hood
But them rappers don't live there they live in Hollywood
It ain't about where you at it's about where you from
If you ever go back they might
just might be in your hood
Causin' havoc with my bros, and instill all to the good
Horse and carriage when I roll, it's sober hopin' so it's 'stood
I'm
(Great John on the beat by the way)
Look, huh
Glock on Biggie and the clip two pack, get it?
Tryna tunnel my vision like Tubman (gang, gang,
goin' again
First Z got murked, then Roy got murked
And homie still in the hood, why he ain't gettin' hurt?
I smell somethin' fishy, man, it might be
goin' again
First Z got murked, then Roy got murked
And homie still in the hood, why he ain't gettin' hurt?
I smell somethin' fishy, man, it might be
No surprise I'm from a gang bang culture
But we can keep it civil or
Pull a thang thang on ya
Southern California where the sun don't quit
wicked deams (deamons)
I keep my pistol by my bedside one in the chamber
Preoccupied with homocide my life's in danger
Rollin down the four-five beware
off to the good
Can't even say I didn't know you would
Make a little money, get it from the bro
Bring that shit back to the hood
Anytime you see me,
po no helmet they can't sue me
I'm just riding thru the hood passing by the lake
Just to meet my homie for a joint wake n bake
Pull up at the spot now
the Shocker)
You can tell by the look in my eye
I'm a soilder till the day that I die
Fuck 'em we keep it locked
all that heat we got we keep
gleaming in fact
You get your shit took, baby boy, it's easy as that
I'm from a wild hood
Soon as you make something, they take something
Leave you in
hermano just died I gotta let it ride
That's what I got the public thinkin', my nigga
Just 'cause I ain't in the hood don't mean shit my nigga
I know
cat, and that's for searching me a hood rat
With good cat, something beautiful to look at, fa sho'
I kick it for my niggaz in the ghetto
And all my
I've been working for the weekend
But that weekend never came
Will you pat my back tomorrow
If I break my back today?
Ay yup, yeah it's seven
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