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In the hood

Now see, the definition of a real nigga

Is about it, in this motherfucking song right here

You know, it took two real niggaz to collab

And make some motherfucking shit happen, man

It's your boy Yung Joc, you know, Block Entertainment

And my motherfucking nigga Trae, asshole by nature

Ay, Trae, tell me what you is nigga

[Trae]

I'm a gangsta to the end, riding for the set

Black Chevrolet, with the paint still wet

J's on my toes, locs on my eyes

Crawling on fours, every time I slide by

Nothing less than the truth, on the streets of the South

Hos on my swag 'cause the diamonds in my mouth

But I move low key, posted in the trap

Raw with the rap, to put my hood on the map

I'm a do this one for H.A.W.K., and his brother named Pat

And my partna named Screw, so I let the trunk crack

What they know about that, haters better chill

Plus I'm packing something, that they classify steel

Repping my block, still doing my thang

Trunk full of bang, holding A.B.N. gang

Screwed up click, I'm a let the world know

Before it's all over, we gon' make the world slow

[Chorus]

You can find me in the hood, swanging in a drop

Trunk popped up, now I'm letting back the top

Locs on my face, and my grill so clean

Thirty grand talk, boppers hopping on my team

Moving so slow, banging my screw

Moving so slow, banging my screw

Moving so slow, banging my screw

Hop out on the block, still hollin' 'what it do'

[Yung Joc]

'65 Impala, Chevy SS

The top disappear, see the clear VVS

I guess you know the name, I ain't even gotta say it

When I say it's going down, SK start spraying

Block E-N-T, and A.B.N. niggaz in charge

Ery'body mugging, nigga face different starch

I'm a let you pull your card, but watch how quick I pull it

Ay fuck a semi-auto, my niggaz pack fullest

We bullies on the block, the hustle don't stop

It's eat what you kill, that's the motto off top

Yeah, it's the A-Town, and the H-Town

Tell 'em this the shake down, lay face down

Me and my nigga Trae, getting cake now

Split it down the middle, 50-50 that's the break down

Baby, keep your face down, and don't talk back

You can find me in the hood, nigga distributing packs

[Big Pokey]

My guns go off, when my fists is hard

Mobbed up 'cause nigga pistols'll scar

You got your knife on you, homie, that's for twisting cigars

I got my knife on me, homie, that's for twisting your guards

These niggaz, wanna play you for weak

It's going down, motherfuckers drizzown when they playing it deep

I do the damn thang, niggaz talking about it

I'm a problem run into it, you ain't walking up out it

Sensei'll fade the pack, I get mean

Lean on you with this beam, till you fade to black

Cuffing broads, cause I mack on chicks

I go hard same nigga hit your hard, put your Lac on bricks

Niggaz a trip, crock bull give niggaz the clip

Slap niggaz in they trap, when they giving me lip

S.U.C. my nigga, we missing H.A.W.K.

I'm gon' live through the rest of the click, that's real talk

[Chorus]

[Trae]

Hop out on the block, like I'm still hitting stangs

Platinum in the hood, so they tend to know my name

Yellow VS-1's, got me switching up the game

Might hop fly, top dropping like the rain

Hoes talk down, Trae never get mad

Niggaz old school, still jacking my swag'

Y'all concerned about a playa, since the day of my birth

Grab a couple mill, and I can show you what I'm worth

Sitting so low, every time I come down

Trunk just popped, so I'm showing my surround

84's got me tipping, so low to the ground

Still hitting licks, moving off the Greyhound

Watching for the laws, I ain't fucking with the time

Bitch I'm in my prime, ain't no stopping my shine

I advise, that they lead the truth to the throne

If you say I ain't the realest, say bitch you dead wrong

[Chorus]

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written by FREEMAN, BERNARD JAMES / , Y

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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