Hood

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Berettas and Glocks, consecutive shots Forever it pops, catching double life just for reppin the block Brotheren or not, the cream cause metal to pop When the smoke clears fake niggas setting up shop I knew murderaz who blew trial and came home king Some of y'all catch a weed charge and start to sing Criminal life, sinister trife, few are built for The section of land young blood was spilled for Not to mention the twenty beans he killed for His fifty cal shells left in the building door Animal rights, both sides hands on them pipes Kenny Rogers with the dice how we gamble with life Cameras and lights a blind fold damage your sights Its real, another brother got hammered tonight Its cold black, co-jacks tapping your phone jack Living by the code I was shown by the old cats Little nigga grown now totin a mack Shorties sixteen telling me she blow my back A day in the life the neighborhood hype Johhny got blaze and blaze getting money and money got age He an '86 O.G. who sniff now Sugar hill romeoo cat who bring your clique down Not only was he sniffing the work They found the wire tap when they ripped open the shirt Its no hurt, the burners ah burst, the murders occur Momma on the strip, daughter learning from her Fish nets with the big breasts working the curb Quick sex for a big check thirsting to splurge Drama at night, the llama start sparking the light Its part of the life the high is like bacardi on ice Party all night and pray that ya make it 'til morn In the cursed earth all things sacred are gone In the hall by the gate door waving the 4 Keep ya ears to the street or ya face to the floor Either or heat flame for the cause beat jake and the law Keep takin keep bangin for yours Son you'd rather be loved than feared There's a price on ya head and you can catch slugs from here The drugs the beer had a nigga bugged for years Living a lie, the mask can't cover the tears Gotta rise up from under the stairs It never rains in Southern Cal but its thunderin here Just look, the killers the crooks the villians the juks The flowers by the grave of the witness who looked Mob style in the broad day business is took Dirty cop on the tape gettin hit off the book Heaven for some they squeeze off weapons for fun Tattoo on his back states second to none Hard body who died for his section of slum If its hood than its like that wherever you from