Nigga From The Hood Lyrics

Nigga From The Hood lyrics

[Chorus]



Too many niggas, trying to take me off of my game



Just a nigga from the hood, that's looks some good



Now they all want to to jock my fame



When I coming down in my ?born?



And I'm rolling one deep that should tell you about me



I don't give a damn about none of you hoes



I blast on sight cause I ain't tripping no more







[Z-Ro]



You can't knock my hustle, ain't no games gone be played



Even haters a hundred miles away, deuce out they shades



Coming down one deep, I ain't gone stop and try to speak



I keep on rolling mean mugging as I pull on a sweet



I gave a cool package of sellers, because I knocked down yellas



Keep a 4 for myself and a 4-4 for the jealous



Cause them boys be scoping, intoxicated and hoping



That they run up on Z-Ro I leave they flesh wide open



Let them take me for what, cause I be damned if I slip



Beretta beam in the club same thang on my hip



Another case like that, if you don't think I bring that



Run on up and I'ma bust and flip your brain like crack







[Chorus]







[Z-Ro]



Nothing but dollars we clock, show after show we gone rock



Pimpin hoes in the five double o and baby mamas gone jock



What the fuck is the deal, somebody pass me the kill



Rubatussin and marijuana, one time and I peal



Don't let a snitch see my dope, cause the snitches gone squeel



If they play with my freedom, you know a coffin gone feel 



Niggas be working with louds, I'm gone work on they jaws



Putting snitches in ditches cause I know they be talking bout



Every move that I make, that's why I be solo when I bake



Cooking up in the kitchen come up with a ounce with no flakes



Cause when I say get back, before my finger start itching



Better believe when I relieve my stress you might come up missing



I don't be kissing no ass, take a hit and dump the ash



I'ma chop on 20's with sparkling oak on my dash



I'm too low to descirbe, out the Screwed Up tribe



Read about it in the Source, Murda Dog and the Vibe







[Chorus]







[Z-Ro]



Remember back in 94 they use to laugh at me baby



Now it's year two triple o broads be after me baby



Can you recall when I was sparkling now I hide behind 10



Cause being in a drop with a escallade I know you want to know where I went



I got a bitch named Lucy, for me she sell her coochie



Finest in the vagina for lunch when I feel like sushi



See it to the day we fall, we ball out of control



Everyday at my low key location hoes fall out of they clothes



Range Rovers and Hummers, 45 glock gunner



Plus I'm a pen pimping veteran, smelling plex among new comers



How you love a platinum plack it means I'm already gold



It ain't no joke I'm in the scope, five hundred thousand already sold



I'm throwed off in the mind, mic and producer and booms no ?reap? in the
wine



Smoke to relax my mind, radio songs go lemon lime



Fuck a neuse a niggas might go thet there to the po po why pop it



Giving out my phone number on the daily cause it won't hurt my pocket







[Chorus]







[Z-Ro: outro]



Man, what's the god damn deal, Southside, Northside, Eastside, Westside



It's your boy Z-Ro, knocking down the door in year two triple o



S.U.C. for life, screw you, it's for you baby



Heavy Weighters, my nigga Toon, R-O, Big M-O-E



Z to the Ro, Geurilla Maab affilliated, know what I'm saying



Putting it down, new millenium it's ours, get that baby