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The Hood Lyrics

"The Hood" was written by Grant, Dwight/dean, Kasseem/smalls, Mel/green, Shandel.
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"The Hood" was written by Grant, Dwight/dean, Kasseem/smalls, Mel/green, Shandel.
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Shit, this shit right here
Is for the thugs in the street
Do y'all hear me?
And this shit right here
Might get you mugged in the street

Beanie Segal hit hard, and I'll wire ya jaw
Trademark niggas eyes, give them permanent scars
Twist backwards, never catch me rollin' cigars
Only cock and blow dro out of preservative jars

On the block serving like I never heard of the law
Cops hit the spot fuck it, mad bro to bar
Fuck crack, flip powder, I ain't takin' a loss
Plus if I get snatched, it's less time for the song

I always been known to stroll the block, hold the glock
Blow dro, pick up doe, reload the spot
I'm the shit with crushed ice and some arm and hammer
I'm the reason why smokers steal car antennas

I get bricks, so you know I make big nicks
The size of Chiclets that make you pricks sick
While y'all try to profit, I just flip quick
Y'all niggas know my flow be sick, my doe be sick

Now when you wake up
I'm wiping the cold out your eyes with the barrel of the gun
Holding your son, smoking Branson
Blowing smoke in your face, I want the ransom and some
Or shit'll get the opposite of handsome

I mean I got to come clean
I've done bagged up and served
Everything you've seen in the Feds magazine
I'm what y'all haven't seen
I swallow kerosene and piss out gasoline
Strike a match and burn the fucking scene

I'm no joker, I could blow you into smoke
And make your man a second hand smoker
I'm so vulgar, I'm sendin' niggas straight back to their maker
Broke, with a Play Station for a CD player, see me player?

I don't even play that shit
I just spit and have the whole hood sayin' my shit
Y'all got a Bible? Well, pray in that shit
While I smoke a scripture, load up the guns then come to rip ya

This be the realest shit I ever wrote
Gun up in your mouth, hands around your throat
Choke, nigga, choke, I'm dope
Roll me up and smoke on contact
Niggas react, and play me back
For doe, I'll murder ever nigga not on this track

I spit back at any nigga claimin' he Teflon
The best on, be the next nigga get stepped on
A sick dude, type to ask God, you wanna battle?
I could care less, send me hell I like to travel

After waxin' him, I wax you
Smack you, clap you and that's two
Niggas, I left lookin' like statues
I have to bring it to these cowards that talk hard
Some jail shit? Never even walked through a junk yard

I thump hard make a nigga yell for crew quick
A true bitch, eat a nigga up like a chew-stick
Too rich, is what I plan to be in the 9-9
It's all mine, faggots ride bench when it's crunch time

So bump mine, make a nigga lean off the opium you Ethiopian
Willie niggas, yeah, we scopin' 'em and ropin' 'em
Do a nigga Rosewood style
Hangin' [incomprehensible]and his child

It's Mysonne, lefty, gun up in the right palm
Poppin' niggas in their sleep so they die calm
Kill or be killed, that's the shit that I'm on
It's Desperado style, shooting at them side arm

I'm gone, see I'm dope like heroin
And my guns got scopes, so they zero in
Here on in, know I fear no men
And mutherfuck shootin' five, here go ten

Know that if you start a problem, there's no end
You tough? Fight death and be a hero then
Niggas call me Poppyseed, I'll pop your seed
And move bricks on the block that's too hot to breath

I'm a real type of nigga that cock and squeeze
Y'all them second guess faggots that cock and freeze
So I fuck with real niggas, like The Lox and D
And y'all niggas got problems, just watch and see

I'm the kid with the unlaced boots but'll lace you
Leave a hole in your facial, the size of a bagel
All my bullets hit, never graze you
If you never was shit, I'ma promise you this I'ma front page you

I'ma young'n the first one there and the last one to get to running
Unless you tell me the cops coming
'Cuz I like to feel assed out, so when they trap me I blast out
I'm quiet my gun gotta bad mouth

I wake up with the mad south
You know how many chinks and Jews
Drag's done dragged out on a cash route?
'Cuz when I walk in, stop the talking
I don't give a fuck if it's a nigga with a Walkman
I'ma put him in a coffin

Soon as I step in
I'm runnin' up on the nigga with the thick lens
I'm tryin' to get the Benz with the thick rims
Double R, soon half of us'll go to jail
The best studio, 16 Bars to Post Bail

Songwriters
GRANT, DWIGHT/DEAN, KASSEEM/SMALLS, MEL/GREEN, SHANDEL

Published by
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC