Griselda Records - Hood Blues lyrics

[Intro: DMX & Westside Gunn] Rrr, come on, brr What? What? Brr Ayo, ayo (Rr) [Verse 1: Westside Gunn & DMX] I'm in the hood (Ah), eighty K house, million dollar neck (Uh-huh, ah) Shot off two hundred rounds, ni**as know where we at (Brr, brr, yeah) My coke be the best, talk no steps (Uh-huh, ah) Headshot took off, soulless (Boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boom) Margiela kicks, Margiela sweats I'm on the yard doin' burpees, me, Drop and Fresh (Ah) My shooter layin' low, he got a new body (Boo-boo-boo-boom, Uh, uh, uh, uh) I spray the Tesla X, you need a new body (Skrrt) Fifty K, got my b*tch a new body (Ah) You internet ni**as, y'all punani (Rrr, ah) The Ace of Spades sipper, yay dealer Pray five times a day, get on the wave, ni**a (Ayy, ayy, ah) Baddest b*tch you ever seen doin' my braids, ni**a (Rrr) The Tech echo like it got delays, ni**a (Damn) Your sh*t ain't sh*t, get out the way, ni**a (Uh huh) New Yeezys, only me and Ye with 'em (Yeah, ah) Pay attention (Uh), four on the baby come back then leave seven (Uh, uh) Guarantee into the rec' yard, I got the weapon (Ow, ah) [Verse 2: Benny The Butcher & DMX] The Butcher comin', ni**a (Yo, uh, come on) You know how I rock, six figures off Zaza (Uh-huh) Come and spend at my shop (Uh-huh), I turn your hood to a hotspot (Uh-huh) Every game I feel like I'm Dame without a stopwatch (Uh-huh) Shootin' before the shot clock, Griselda got the top spot (Oh) Locked down like a pawn shop, ni**a (Yeah), I'm thinkin', "Why not?" (Uh-huh) I gave my life to the game, but what do I got? Father these ni**as, how? I don't even know my pops (Ayy, ayy, ayy) This flip phone that I got don't connect to the WiFi Uh-huh, this new foreign sh*t with the wood on the door (Rrr) Got me beefin' with some ni**as I could've put on (Rrr, that's fu*ked up) They make up lies and put 'em in songs (They do, yeah) I pull up to lots, cop, and down the block hear me pull in the yard (Skrrt) Yeah, prayin' with my dirty hands (With my dirty hands) I did dirt and scammed, I'm askin' God "Do I deserve these bands?" (Do I deserve these bands?) And we from murder land, eastside sh*t Jeans PURPLE BRAND (Ah), ridin' in the GLE, the turtle van (Talk to 'em, ah) [Verse 3: Conway The Machine & DMX] Ah, look, you throwin' shots? You better be precise (Uh-huh) If I only squeeze it twice, that's me bein' polite (Okay, facts) We was in the trenches, ni**a, four chicken wings and rice (Yeah) The shooter fourteen (Yeah), can't read or write, but he gon' squeeze his pipe (What?) We was tryna sell a key a night 'Cause Nas said a G at night wasn't good enough, and he was right (Talk to 'em) They mad I'm rich, the same ni**as that wouldn't see my plight (Spit that sh*t) The Nets playin', I'm ridin' to the game with KD tonight, yeah (What up, ni**a? Rrr) Machine b*tch, every beat I body (Ah) My ni**a on his way home, he just beat a body (Beat a body) Every time I leave the house, I got the steamer by me (I got it on me, uh, uh, uh) My jacket a one of none, you never seen it probably (Woo, hah) I took some cheddar out the vault to pay the lawyer for my man Weapon possession and felony assault (You good, ni**a? What?) Whippin' up at Unc house, he keep the resi' off the fork (Keep that) I'm Kyrie hittin' ni**as with the hezy on the court, look (Woo) I reached the point ni**as never would've thought (Ah) 'Cause every time I drop somethin' I don't never get support (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) FN MAC shots severin' your corpse You never could extort me, my heart cold as February 4th (What? Talk to 'em) They hate to see me win, I'm not surprised (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) ni**a, I'm fu*kin the b*tches them bum b*tches you fu*ks idolize (Hahahaha) I'm in Harlem at Lighthouse eatin' lobster fries (Rrr) Vee & Shooter with me, I got mobster ties (Uh-huh) Machine, b*tch (What?) [Verse 4: DMX] I grew up at the dark side, apartheid Where goin' against the grain'll get you kidnapped and hogtied (Uh, what?) X the illest ni**a, realest ni**a Never been scared (Uh), I'm a fearless ni**a (Come on) I got that cannon that'll remove your head and shoulders (ni**a) Cats that play in the street (Man), get ran over (Rrr) I'ma make you hand over everything you got I'm not the average (Motherfu*ker) Do damage 'cause I'm a savage Sometimes I can't manage all the sh*t in my head I was promised the world but I got the dirt instead (Hey) Turn the light, I was bred to shed blood (Uh, uh, uh) It's always gonna be "fu*k you, ni**a, what?" (What?) Built for war, raw, this .44 will hit you through the door You exist no more (C'mon, get it, c'mon) I done punk'd more ni**as than Ashton Kutcher (C'mon, c'mon) It's Westside, Conway, X, Benny the Butcher, ni**a [Outro: DMX] Get like you lit, ni**a Get how you fu*kin' lit, ni**a You know what the fu*k it is (Rrr) You know what the fu*k it is, ni**a I ain't fifty years old for nothing, aight? I'm not fifty years old for nothing (We active, ni**a, we active) Wish a ni**a would And I wish a ni**a would