Hood In Ya Life E

A-All day music. Aight, light that shit up. Ah, hold on nigga, damn. Gettin' on my iPod. Here nigga, take this lighter, nigga. Yeah, that's some bomb ass shit, ain't it nigga? Nigga, back up, back up. All hood. Ayy, where the martyrs at, Nigga? Huh? It's a hood classic. Kurupt Young Gotti. What's crackin' nigga? I'm more than intelligent, I'm more like irrelevant. I ain't nothin' that you see. It's just you and me in the street. It's just him and her in the heat. I don't need to watch the clock. I'm a ox. I'm Hussein, pure butane. I'm theory. I'm clearly scientific. It's just another cool night in Los Angeles. Might as well go by the hood and just Ride. Ride. I don't know how it is on Your side. Your side. I used to get high ride. When we drive by, ride high as a high-rise. Clintard syndrome, nickels pierce the sky fly. Territorial, all hood breed what we need. Look, nothin' but G's in a stolen Caprice. Just a little bit of hood in your life. In your life. Just a little bit of smoke And get it right. Get it right. Just a little bit of hood in your life. Bye-bye. Just a little bit of smoke and get It right. Let's ride. Let me show you what we doin' back home. Back home. From the 4s to the Phantoms to The thrones. Just a little bit of hood in Your life. Bye-bye. Just a little bit of smoke and get it Right. Let's ride. Let me show you what we Doin' back home. Back home. Yeah, 4s to the Phantoms to the thrones. Let's ride. Young Sony somatic with matic fullys. I'm an asshole bully, my afro wooly. Young, Black, and strapped. 'Cause when them guns clack and clap, weeny niggas Jump up and run track. Run up on a young mack with a pistol On your back. I'll put you in your back, Buried up under the map. My brain in flames, burnin' up under my cap. My gang is sane, burners up in all of Our laps. Slap the clip in, snap, Click, tap the trigger. And pat-pap a nigga, clap his clique and smash Some dick. We mix the weed with embalming fluid And hash. But before you pass it, ash the Tip, you ashy bastard. I'm a classy classic hood monster. Jurassic with gats made by NASA. Yeah, it's SWAT, eight young assassins. We young and mashin', quick to run up and Jump and blast on they punk asses. A little bit of hood in your life. Bye-bye. Just a little bit of smoke and get It right. Let's ride. Let me show you what we doin' back home. Back home. From the 4s to the Phantoms to The thrones. Just a little bit of hood in Your life. Bye-bye. Just a little bit of smoke and get it Right. Let's ride. Let me show you what we Doin' back home. Back home. From the 4s to the Phantoms to the thrones. Let's Yeah, now they Young Sco and Young Gotti. Philly Philly Westside, gun low, chillin' and Wheelin' the big body. Chest fried, huffin' and puffin' the cig to the Wig. I stuffed it with a couple twigs of The chronic. Young nigga livin' violent, Milly milly on my side. With snub noses 'cause real killers move silent. For dirt cheap, you can lay in a dirt Heap. And stay permanently sleep, eternally at Peace, yeah. All about the cauliflower, servin' heat And servin' chowder. Shit be poppin' every minute, Shit be crackin' every hour. I got me a nickel stash, cock back, fire, Flash. This is the beginnin'. Give me a Newport, nigga, 'fore I slap ya Bitch. And show you motherfuckers who you fuckin' With. I'm Kurupt, motherfucker, I'm almost psychic. And I don't cuss to sell records, bitch, I Like it. You need, you need. Just little bit of hood in your life. Bye-bye. Just a little bit of smoke and get It right. Let's ride. Let me show you what we doin' back home. Back home. From the 4s to the Phantoms to The thrones. Let's Just a little bit of hood In your life. Bye-bye. Just a little bit of smoke and get it Right. Let's ride. Let me show you what we Doin' back home. Back home. From the 4s to the Phantoms to the thrones. Let's ride.