50 Cent In My Hood Lyrics

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*****s screw they face up at me
On some real **** son, they don't want beef
I **** that, aim that **** out the window
Spray, there ain't a shell left in my heat
Y'all *****s better lay down, yeah I mean stay down
Get hit with a K round, ya *** ain't gon' make it
You *****s goin' get laid out in blood and ya brains out
Have you on the concrete, shiverin' and shakin'
I'm from Southside ************, where the gats explode
If you feel like you on fire, boy drop and roll
*****s'll heat ya *** up cause they heart turns cold
Now you can be a victim or you can lock and load
The party jump, with shorty bouncin' that ***
I won't ****, gimme a second, I'ma holla, I'ma see what's up
I got my razor in my hand, got my pistol in my trunk
Carve ya *** up nice, you play me like a punk

In my hood
*****s got love for me, but I don't go no where without my strap
In my hood
A lil dro', a lil hennessy, a ***** just don't know how to act
In my hood
*****s is grimey, I stay on point, I move with my gat
In my hood
*****s might buck at me, so I keep somethin' around to buck back
In my hood

I don't trust a motha****in' soul when the D's come they fool
On my first case they told, where I'm from it ain't safe
To have more than a eighth, *****s'll come to your place
Put a gun in your face, tell ya open the safe
As your heart starts to race cause a robbery could turn into a homo-case
Co-opperate or Doc will have to op-porate, *****s will pop at you
Run the light, then pop at Jake, trust me son, *****s will go hard for that cake
These thirsty *****s will lurk, then you'll have to catch 'em and murk 'em
I'm observin' in my hood, these *****s be dumbin'
Shots go off at the dice game, all you see is 'em runnin'
They make it harder and harder to pump on the block
I'm a hustler, how the **** I'm supposed to eat when its hot


That house party off the hook, until the shots go off
Well that's what you get for stuntin' on my block show off
You **** out of luck if *****s catch you slippin'
Crack money slow so you know *****s is trippin'
Shorty down there, on the Queens track takin' a whippin'
****, ***** get out a pocket, she needs some discipline
Peep the fiends, shootin' diesel in his arm in the alley
Look at the chrome spinners spinnin' on that black DeNali
The grimey *****s where I'm from, they want to see you chipped up
You shine, they gon' tilt you a block and shoot your whip up
It ain't good to do good in my hood
You know not to do good now


Written by: Teraike Crawford, Phillip Pitts, Marshall B. Iii Mathers, Luis Edgardo Resto, Curtis James Jackson
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group

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