Gipp - Hood lyrics

[Hook] You can catch me in the hood smokin' good, posted on the lot Got a pocket full of money cuz im fresh off the block The hood smokin' good, posted on the lot Got a pocket full of money cuz im fresh off the block [Verse 1: Gipp] Yea we sippin, dippin, tippin, elbow swangin out the window Swimming pool up in the roof, I got the suede up in the ceiling '88 dope man, not purple rain-rocks, having thangs, diamond chains Doin it till my money came Southside, Westside, Eastside, Northside, on them wires, on the blades Ery'body smokin' haze Cadillac, Chevy, Escalade, and them Hummer trucks We burnin rubber, runnin lights, we don't give a f** We on that laffy taffy, yall n***as be smokin, babby We custom fitted from our sneakers to our clothes daddy We keep them hoes lookin, starin, gawkin', talkin 'bout us We got them peoples and feds, yea they talk about us About the way we talk, about the way we dress How 'bout them diamond grills? How 'bout they lookin' fresh? I'm always smokin' good, I'm posted on the lot A pocket full of money, I'm fresh up off the block [Hook] [Verse 2: Pimp C] So many brand-new n***as, we don't know who to trust A bunch of p**y-a** rappers tryin' to sound like us Sweet Jones is a pimp I got b**hes on track Send a ho out on a mission, tell 'em break 'em, bring it back Got a house in Hawaii, about to buy a Rolls n***a think we just 'bout rapping b**h but dope is getting sold I'm a young, hot street flame, deep up in the d-game Smokin' dro, slammin' Cadillac doors, red paint switchin' lane-to-lane I ain't came to lose b**h, I done paid my dues b**h Got fifteen years off in this muthaf**in' rap sh** Seen alotta n***as come, seen alotta n***as go I seen some n***as blow, I seen some turn to hoes Candy cars, candy doors, I got yellow hoes that play wit' they nose If ya like, she blow in ya bu*t Eat ya dick and then lick ya nuts If I wasn't rappin baby, I'd still be drivin' this sh** Makin hoes hide this dick, UGK we live in this b**h Swisha sweets is a must Mixin' purple wit the tux We call it banana split Choose a pimp ho, I'm the dick I got Bobby 'bout a pound, n***a Whitney 'bout a key DJ Screw about a gallon, b**h the game belong to me [Verse 3: Ali] In '72, a player born in his boots Every line is the Gospel, cuz every word is the truth Some may call me the realest, this from the heart you can feel it Project baby cuz my family from the Car-Swerve Village And moved the Northside city wit this downtown witty That influenced, project grew 'n' then now '88 gritty Twelve years old smokin' squares, and by thirteen smokin' water By fourteen I was a busy boy in somebody daughter Rockin' them black Stacy Adams and that fresh gold hat Im sellin' weed a year later, whoa, here come the crack I'm sellin' 50's and bopper's the cluckers say I got good And wit the crack came the gangs, and that divided the hood And then the war jumped off, some n***as didn't make it a summer The other n***as locked up, doin rides, receivin' numbers I changed my life wit the quickest, fuh' real and layed down the D I ain't sellin no mo' but you can still catch me in the hood [Hook] [Verse 4: Nelly] I'm from the middle of the map where the river run deep Up I-55 where them n***as run D Got a pocket full of stones along wit Bun B, Pimp C, ??? Luv didn't have it, I could get it from Three Papi didn't have it, I could get it from E n***as need dank, you can call on me Hell I come through, it don't matter if you on that Southside, Westside, Eastside, Northside Used to open up my trunk like there it is, let ya pick which one ya need to get loose I beat that block like bad kids, yea you might wanna call that block abuse Dirty then? Made Derrty now, some of yall might know, but don't blurt it out You know how sh** travel, word of mouth, have them kick-in boys all in my house Knockin' down my gla** door, tryin' to rip up my marble floor But ain't nothin that for that a** though you know See that's throwback like Dukey Rope Candy painted, hundred spokes, baking soda, watch it grow Gangsta, gangsta? Neva that, but I keep that thang like 'Where he at?' Ain't no rubber band big enough to hold these stacks I wrap my money in Reynolds Wrap Slangin' ery'thing I get my hands on From the white to the green, to the 1-I phones And I even sold dick to a chick named Simone