| Sitting back, getting my dick sucked by the neighborhood ho
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| East side local 304, stay twisted off that reefer smoke
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| Stay twisted off them potent pills, might just taste the powder back
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| Candy nose, man I ran these hoes in a white Range Rove', 'bout to pound her back
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| No strings attached, bitch might be a ho but she my homie though
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| She got that friendly pussy, when I touch down she let my homies scope
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| Preacher’s daughter, choir every Sunday bitch you known to blow
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| When I was on the block broke back in '04, bitch act like she ain’t know me
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| though
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| But it’s all to the good, baby I forgive ya, hoes caught up in the hype
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| See the chrome shine bright, and now they think I’m they type of nigga
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| Bitch pump your brakes, you wanna make the bed shake, get dressed and I might
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| come get ya
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| This ain’t a date and never hesitate, you can put your lips where you like
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| while I light my swisha
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| «Fred you so cold on a ho,» I know but I just sit back and get chose
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| All about my stacks fuck a rat bitch I’m gon' stay on ten toes
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| Got doctors, models, college freaks, and broads on strip poles
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| When I’m tipping in the G, gotta smoke one with my neighborhood ho
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| Man, sometimes I like to kick it with them neighborhood hoes
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| Get drunk and puff a swisha with them neighborhood hoes
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| My bitch say I stay fucking with them neighborhood hoes
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| I swear, man it ain’t nothing like them neighborhood hoes
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| I’m riding around and I’m getting it
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| You riding around and you didn’t
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| I am riding around with semis, life’s a bitch so I pimp it
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| Bread long like Pippen, Gucci on, not Dickies
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| I will dick her down so quickly
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| I draw pistols with no pencils
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| You know what I’m here for, that’s to get dough
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| Hotter than six niggas in a Pinto with the vents closed
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| Period, menstrual, sentimental bimbos
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| Telling me they love me but been with all my kinfolks
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| Want a slice like Kimbo, ice like igloo
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| I like a girl that like doing what her friend do
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| 'Specially if it’s me and I’m laying in the middle
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| And all my verses cold, my microphone should wear a trenchcoat
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| Trapping at the Citgo, yea the Citgo
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| Now I’m the shit, I remember when I was piss poor
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| Neighborhood hoes still hanging in the neighborhood
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| And I don’t have to talk too much cause my paper do it |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Neighborhood Hoez , by - Freddie Gibbs. Song from the album Cold Day In Hell, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп