That Hood Shit E

I done sold so many lines, you could make An album with it. Running through the streets all Day putting powder in it. Twenty-four hours in it. Now that sour lemon rain sit on braids when I'm blazed, look at how I'm living. I'm still dipping from the corners to the back Blocks. Slanging marijuana out the squarter of the Black drop. You still screaming from the side like A mascot. Better watch your tone dog, still could Get your ass shot. this rap shit I got It padlocked. Riding the classic with the rag top. Yeah, I be on the block dipping and tipping, Sipping and chipping. Highway patrolling, my vision Got me sketching and tripping. I got a paper and pen addiction, I been In the kitchen. I got partners in Heaven and Partners I visit in prison. It doesn't make a difference whether you Bloodin' or Crippin'. 'Cause this that hood shit, puffing that Good shit. know This that West Coast good shit. Smoked out, loc'd out. Hood shit. shit. Wood grain handle, Good shit. Niggas be on that bullshit. This that West Coast good shit. Smoked out, loc'd out. Hood shit. Hood From the motherfucking parking lot Pulpit. What? Smoke it, ball it. Hood shit. Got my spinners and my Ds and A Nina to match. Just in case a motherfucker Try to steal my shit. Nigga this is just how Gs run the strip. Yeah I thought your bitch was looking at the Candy drip. Envious and jealous, overzealous, My oh my. You into something baby, I can see inside. Her nigga mad 'cause we seeing eye to eye. I'm a rider, and baby understood the ride. Now we can do the bounce rock roll rider. We can doggy dog this bitch with the chandelier Inside. Everything you got is everything that I, That I look for in a bitch to be My bottom surprise. Scrape out on him and the bitch. Dog pound gangster, cancerous. G philosophy spread cross nation to nation. No hesitation, G relations. You know what? This that West Coast good shit. Smoked out, loc'd out. Hood shit. Hood shit. Wood grain handle, good shit. Good shit. Niggas be on that bullshit. Bullshit. This that West Coast good shit. Good Smoked out, loc'd out. Hood shit. From the motherfucking parking lot Pulpit. What? Smoke it, ball it. Hood shit. shit. Yeah, now this exactly what it Sounds like. Rolling through the hood on the late Night. Eyes wide open and your thing tight. By your side just in case you gotta take Flight. But I ain't really tripping, it's a hood Thing. Like the old school 'lac with the wood Grain. And they wish I would change, but this Is embedded in my DNA. To floss on them so sick with that whip On blades. And it's cocaine white. White. Getting paid 'cause the flow game tight. Tight. Got it made, chicks for days, they all Ride. Clip hold eight but I'ma let you hold Five. It's suicide so I think you better slow Your roll. Anything can happen, we don't got no Control. Nah. And we get it cracking, don't leave Your girl alone. Anything can happen. Told you. When you see us in the hood It's on, you know what? This that West good Shit. Smoked out, loc'd out. Hood shit. Hood Wood grain handle, Good shit. Good Niggas be on that bullshit. This that West Coast good shit. Smoked out, loc'd out. Hood shit. From the motherfucking parking lot Pulpit. What? Smoke it, ball it. Hood shit. Hood shit.