| See like
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| People can’t relate to it, don’t understand it
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| Cause they ain’t never been there, they ain’t from there
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| I understand it
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| (*echo*)
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| As we wrap this shit up
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| We call this one +Still My Hood+
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| Even though they hate 'em (oh), even though when a nigga try to make a come up
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| (It's a), it’s another nigga waitin just to run up
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| Though they sellin rocks for shorts
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| And every night around twelve you hear them shots go off (talk to 'em)
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| And know niggas is rats, some boys is wired
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| And the food in the supermarket’s all expired (whoa)
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| Every block’s a liquor store, an abandoned building
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| Drunk parents at the liquor store abandonin children (let's go)
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| Though the sky seems gray, we’ll get through the weather
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| And even though they fill our grade schools with metal detectors
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| Some cops is crooked and police indecent
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| And you can catch a body up the street from the precinct
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| Though we got a lot of shit wrong, a lot of shit goin on
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| Gotta love it, this the place I was born, so I sit here dedicatin this song
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| This is still my hood
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| — w/ ad libs
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| Now everywhere I roam, though they keep the chrome, it’s no place like home
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| This is still my hood
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| And it’s far from fine, I may like other places but they far from mine
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| Gotta love my hood
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| And I only know one place that be like that, if I ever leave, trust
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| I’ll be right back
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| It’s my hood
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| It may not be good, it may not be like it should
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| But let me get one thing understood, this is still my hood
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| Shout to Wyks on the beat
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| Can’t forget NV, what up nigga?
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| You know they got them Macs out until ya time’s up
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| And the barbers’ll fuck ya line up (this is still my hood)
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| Hold up cause even though
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| You can’t meet a girl ain’t fucked a nigga you know (gotta love my hood)
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| This the same place you can’t get a job
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| They look at you, like you young and you black
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| Get the fuck out of dodge (fuck out of here)
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| Get a gun, get some crack, feel like that’s our only op'
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| Tell ourselves we’ll fall back as soon as that money stop (oh!)
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| They feast on ya watch (and)
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| And dudes stand on the corner like if life passes us by at least we
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| Wanna watch (talk to 'em)
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| Clowns get extorted (whoa), gangstas get recorded (whoa)
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| Mami don’t know if she should keep it or abort it (get rid of it)
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| Cops you’ll never will catch me, I’m aware all my warrants
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| And I’m not goin down (naw), naw that’s not goin down (nah)
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| Carjackings, shootouts is imperial here
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| And I dare you find a ratchet with the serial, yeah
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| Though you might have to raise ya gun, just to raise ya sums
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| This ain’t the place you want to raise ya son (never that)
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| A few dudes’ll argue about they favorite rapper
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| Other dudes sit and think of different ways they could yak ya
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| Don’t take it personal, it’s just the paper they after
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| So I keep mine on me, just in case I might have to
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| And still no other place that I’d rather
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| Gotta love my hood
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| — w/ ad libs
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| If you’ve never been, you can’t really know about it (naw)
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| System’s fucked up, the jails is overcrowded (whoa)
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| Murder rates is up and as a matter of fact
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| A couple of close friends of mine have added to that
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| And I rate nothin above it, I know it seems odd but I hate it and I love it
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| (naw)
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| Naw, I hate that I love it (yeah, yep)
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| The same things that seem to get me always pissed
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| As soon as I leave, I always miss, it’s always like this
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| So small, everybody knows everybody
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| It’s body after body, it’s robbery after robbery
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| Hookers on the strip, some girls’ll be a ho
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| We got a few local legends, I guess the world’ll never know
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| From Jers to Little Rock, the hood’ll never die down
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| B-More, D.C., Compton, Chi-Town, New York to VA, ya town’s like my town
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| Let’s go
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| — 2X — w/ ad libs
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| Whoa!
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| This goes out to everybody in every hood man
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| No matter where ya at, where ya from
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| New Orleans, Mississippi
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| Vancouver, London, T. Dot
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| Wherever you at, I don’t even care man (*fades out*) |