Текст песни
Huh, huh, huh
Money, drugs, and sex
All in My Hood
In My Hood
In My Hood
In My Hood, yo, yo What up little nigga, what you smokin on?
Only 14, product of a broken home
Out late, tryin to tell me that you’re makin your livin
Tryin to see how much weed you can take in your system
Indeed, take out the seeds, then he finished his sentence
Askin me what I believe, have I ever repented?
Type of shit niggas talk about when they get high
Passed out, hazy eye, lettin days go by Bullshittin one another with the same old lies
Tryin hard not to show all that pain inside
Saw the clouds turnin black like an angel died
Preacher sayin you a curse if you don’t pay your tithes
It’s like that to the day that our loved ones die
Lookin up at the sky, «Please sun come shine»
But all we see is dark days, ain’t no sun rays
Only gun plagues, in My Hood
In My Hood (Look around, what you see? Tragedy)
In My Hood (The place to be, in My Hood)
In My Hood (Look around try to be free)
In My Hood (Come with me to My Hood)
In My Hood (Look around at what you see)
In My Hood (Tragedy, in My Hood)
(Look around to be free)
(Come with me to My Hood)
We’ve got Pirus and P-Stones
Damu and El-Rukn's, in Hell feudin, the 60's movement
The death of Newton, the resurrection of Clarence X students
The revolution, this is rebel music
The other day a young lady threw her baby of the roof end
Six niggas died from homicide and drug shootins
My homey’s mom just went of the loose end
From drugs abusin, this is thug amusin
Bloods and Crips, huggin the strips
Lovin they clips, sittin on dubs in they whips
Folks, GD’s and vice lords, when night falls
Black pimps and white whores, from the immortal words of Jeff Fort
To death do us all, the sets I recall, til we rest in the morgue
From the pilgrimage of Larry Hoover, to the Tribes of Judah
We live our lives through ya, in My Hood
Chorus
Cuz outside there’s a Cold War
And inside niggas waitin on their roll call
When friends, dies niggas ride for their road dogs
Don’t know why we all cry when the soul fall
Yo, we got uncles comin home from doin a bid
Move in ya crib, with you and ya rib, is how a few of us live
The rest is always in debt, feel with heartaches and stress
Can’t argue cuz God makes the test
I hear oldies from OG’s who go OT
Some OD in doorways, out cold for four days
It’s like that all day
We gat rollin 60's, foldin 50's
Triple-O's in the Windy City
Latin Kings, Manhattan Queens
Spanish cobras, band of shoulders, families of soldiers
40 busters, 4 corner hustlers
From west side, to Bed-Stuy
Neta’s in fiestas in neckties, Wepa
Ese, and Chevy’s with hydraulics
This is God Knowledge
Spin it down for the hood, it’s all good
In My Hood
Chorus
It’s all good in My Hood