| Doubled with the Perc, I stayed down
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| They wrestling in the trap, I’m playing like Draymond
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| I had them bitches at the same time
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| Feed my Crips that’s on my main line
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| The thing that’s sparkling this Rollie
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| Wrist drip, it’s this Rolex
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| Poppin' bitches swear they know me
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| I got the hood on my shoulders
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| Pulled up with bricks in the hood
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| I stayed down and got rich in the hood
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| Bad bitch, pussy good
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| Got a shell case for the .38 with the wood
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| I should hit me a jugg, I’m good
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| Put a whole 3.5 in a Backwoods
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| I don’t fuck with these niggas, they Hollywood
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| Cum in that bitch and I’m dabbing like Robin Hood
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| Getting that money, fucking these bitches
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| Fuck the police, we don’t fuck with no snitches
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| Stayed down, went from the rags to the riches
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| Me and Baby Uiie run up the digits
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| Ooh, let me stop for a minute
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| Fuck that bullshit, we got Glocks with extensions
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| Real niggas, we don’t beef over mentions
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| We still in the hood, in the trenches
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| Came from the hood, I was raised in the concrete
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| Getting money, I ain’t got time to sleep
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| Jumped out the Porsche and landed on my feet
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| Back then, I ain’t know nothing 'bout a beat
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| I ain’t know nothing 'bout rap
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| They ain’t know nothing 'bout me
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| Came from the belly of the beast
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| You ain’t never seen a nigga like me
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| I’m trapping all day, fuck the police, we gotta get it
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| Real street nigga riding 'round with it
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| Got a trap house filled up with bricks and the pounds in it
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| Shipping the pack like I pitch on the mound with it
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| Givenchy with the stars, couldn’t walk a mile in it
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| I don’t need money counters or accountant
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| Got fifty-thousand, money stacked up like mountains
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| I’m drinking lean like it comes out of fountains
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| We don’t know how to sit on no couches
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| Still in the hood with the bags and the ounces
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| I ain’t worried 'bout no nigga, I keep counting
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| I just drop off the pack and I’m rerouting
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| Pour a 4 in the Faygo, a 5 in the red Woods
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| African diamonds cost a lot of canned goods
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| Sending twenty to my mansion in Ellenwood
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| Cookies, you know them ain’t no edibles
|
| Pulled up with bricks in the hood
|
| I stayed down and got rich in the hood
|
| Bad bitch, pussy good
|
| Got a shell case for the .38 with the wood
|
| I should hit me a jugg, I’m good
|
| Put a whole 3.5 in a Backwoods
|
| I don’t fuck with these niggas, they Hollywood
|
| Cum in that bitch and I’m dabbing like Robin Hood
|
| Getting that money, fucking these bitches
|
| Fuck the police, we don’t fuck with no snitches
|
| Stayed down, went from the rags to the riches
|
| Me and Baby Uiie run up the digits
|
| Ooh, let me stop for a minute
|
| Fuck that bullshit, we got Glocks with extensions
|
| Real niggas, we don’t beef over mentions
|
| We still in the hood, in the trenches
|
| Just found a bitch on the «Explore» page
|
| Bust a pint on the Tech, pour up four ways
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| Fresh everyday, I got cake like my birthday
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| They like my swag and my lingo, my wordplay
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| I caught a skurt on a Thursday
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| I come from the PJ the worst way
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| I just want the PJ the private way
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| I don’t give these bitches the time of day
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| I’m eating Ruth’s Chris, the filet
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| I’m eating cookies, they come from the Bay
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| Foreign whip when I touch down in the A
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| Counting money, please stay out the way
|
| Rock designer, they wanna know what I pay
|
| Rock a gold chain like I just won first place
|
| My niggas strapped up with dirty K’s
|
| We got the gas like the Circle K
|
| Rocking Off-White with my Kanye’s
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| Chains on like a runaway
|
| Strapped the fuck up, nigga, ready for gun play
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| Church’s Chickens on a Sunday
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| I’m smoking that wonder brick, cookie candyland
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| Counting up the bands, I know I can
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| Hang in the hood with a money flag
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| Got a bookbag full of country bands
|
| I’m in the hood, they thought I wouldn’t make it
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| Now I’m shopping all the way out in Vegas
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| I’m rich, these bitches trying to have my baby
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| Copped the Audi and the brand new Mercedes
|
| I made the money, never made me
|
| Got chains on like a slave
|
| I rock designer all day
|
| Fuck you, gotta pay me
|
| Pulled up with bricks in the hood
|
| I stayed down and got rich in the hood
|
| Bad bitch, pussy good
|
| Got a shell case for the .38 with the wood
|
| I should hit me a jugg, I’m good
|
| Put a whole 3.5 in a Backwoods
|
| I don’t fuck with these niggas, they Hollywood
|
| Cum in that bitch and I’m dabbing like Robin Hood
|
| Getting that money, fucking these bitches
|
| Fuck the police, we don’t fuck with no snitches
|
| Stayed down, went from the rags to the riches
|
| Me and Baby Uiie run up the digits
|
| Ooh, let me stop for a minute
|
| Fuck that bullshit, we got Glocks with extensions
|
| Real niggas, we don’t beef over mentions
|
| We still in the hood, in the trenches |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hood , by - HoodRich Pablo Juan. Song from the album South Dark, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп