Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hood Blues, artist - DMX.
Date of issue: 27.05.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Hood Blues |
Rrr, come one, brr |
What? |
What? |
Brr |
Ayo, ayo (Rr) |
I’m in the hood (Ah), eighty K house, million dollar net (Uh-huh, ah) |
Shot off two hundred rounds, niggas know where we at (Brr, yeah) |
My coke be the best, talk no steps (Uh-huh, ah) |
Headshot took off, soulless (Boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boo-boom) |
Margiela kicks, Margiela sweats |
I’m on the yard doin' burpees, me, Drop and Fresh |
Shooter lean low, he got a new body (Boo-boo-boo-boom) |
Pray to Tesla X, you need a new body (Skrrt) |
Fifty K, got my bitch a new body (Ah) |
You internet niggas, y’all punani (Rrr) |
The Ace of Spades simple, yay dealer |
Pray five times a day, get on the wave, nigga |
Baddest bitch you ever seen doin' my braids nigga |
The Tech echo like it got delays, nigga |
Your shit ain’t shit, get out the way, nigga |
New Yeezys, only me and Ye with 'em (Yeah, ah) |
Pay attention (Uh), four on the baby come back then leave seven (Uh, uh) |
Guarantee into the rec' yard, I got the weapon (Ow, ah) |
The Butcher comin', nigga (Come on) |
Yo, uh |
You know how I rock six figures off Zaza |
Come and spend at my shop, I turn your hood to a hotspot |
Every game I feel like I’m Dame without a stop watch |
Shootin' before the shot clock, Griselda got the top spot (Oh) |
Locked down like a pawn shop, nigga (Yeah) |
I’m thinkin', «Why not?» |
(Uh-huh) |
I gave my life to the game, but what do I got? |
Father these niggas, how? |
I don’t even know my pops |
This flip phone that I got don’t connect to the WiFi |
Uh-huh, this new foreign shit with the wood on the door |
Got me beefin' with some niggas I could’ve put on |
They make up lies and put 'em in songs |
I pull up the lots, cop down the block hear me pull in the yard |
Yeah, prayin' with my dirty hands (With my dirty hands) |
I did dirt and scam |
I’m askin' God «Do I deserve these bands?» |
(Do I deserve these bands?) |
And we from murder land, eastside shit |
Jeans purple brand, ridin' in the GLE, the turtle van (Talk to 'em) |
Ah, you throwin' shots you better be precise (Ah-huh) |
If I only squeeze it twice, that’s me bein' polite (Okay) |
We was in the trenches, nigga, four chicken wings and rice |
The shooter fourteen, can’t read or right when he gon' squeeze his pipe |
We was tryna sell a key at night |
'Cause Nas said a G at night wasn’t good enough |
And he was right (Talk to 'em) |
They mad I’m rich, the same niggas that wouldn’t see my plight |
The next plan, I’m ridin' to the game with KD tonight, yeah |
Machine bitch, every beat I body |
My nigga on his way home, he just beat a body |
Every time I leave the house, I got the steamer boy me (I got it on me) |
My jacket a one of none, you never seen it probably (Woo) |
I took some cheddar out the vault to pay the lawyer for my man |
Rifle possession and felony assault (You good nigga) |
Whippin' up at Unc house, he keep the resi' off the fork (Keep that) |
I’m Kyrie hitting niggas with the hezy on the court, look (Woo) |
I reached the point niggas never would’ve thought |
'Cause every time I drop somethin' I don’t never get support |
FN Mag shot, severin' your corpse |
You never could extort me |
My heart cold as February 4th (Talk to 'em) |
They hate to see me win, I’m not surprised |
Nigga, I’m fuckin the bitches them bum bitches you fucks idolize |
I’m in Harlem at Lighthouse eatin' lobster fries |
Vee &Shooter with me, I got mobster ties |
Machine |
I grew up at the dark side, apartheid |
Where goin' against the grain’ll get you kidnapped and hogtied |
X the illest nigga, realest nigga |
Never been scared, I’m a fearless nigga |
Got that cannon that’ll remove your head and shoulders |
Cats that play in the street get ran over |
I’ma make you hand over everything you got |
I’m not the average motherfucker |
Do damage 'cause I’m a savage |
Sometimes I can’t manage all the shit in my attic |
I was promised the world but I got the dirt instead |
It’s just life, I was bred to shed blood |
For all my niggas that know me «Fuck you, nigga, What «Built for war, raw, this .44 will hit you through the door |
You exist no more |
I done punk’d more niggas than Ashton Kutcher |
It’s Westside, Conway, X, Benny the Butcher, nigga |
Get like you lay, nigga |
Get how you fuckin' lay, nigga |
You know what the fuck it is |
You know what the fuck it is, nigga |
I ain’t fifty years old for nothing, aight |
I’m not fifty years old for nothing (We active, nigga, we active) |
Wish a nigga would |
And I wish a nigga would |