| Tonight
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| So nice, so nice
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| Always so, so nice
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| Coming home to you
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| 'Cause it’s been three years too long
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| Coming back to where I belong
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| You hold me down like no one before
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| Now finally, I’m coming home
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| This time it’s for good
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| There ain’t no place like my hood
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| Wouldn’t change it if I could
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| Coming home, coming home to you
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| Back to the same place
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| I used to be a hood nigga for real
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| True fi sell
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| You can catch me at the fish spot around 12 o’clock
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| Or at the barbershop
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| Probably in there smoking pot
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| Summertime, chickens out, and you know they’re getting hot
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| Baby mamas getting head, baby daddys getting shot
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| Yeah, I know, that’s a lot, that’s I should be turning up
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| 113 degrees, everybody burning up
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| Slip and slide, hood shit, waterholes, hefty bags
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| Icey house, candy house, now later’s purple sacks
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| Summer league, goof games
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| Hoods start showing out
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| My city’s the city you clowns need to know about
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| F.C., home of the three strikes
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| Most slept on, niggas hating on weak type
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| And we fight for the right to hustle
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| From the box to the streets
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| Ain’t a town that can touch us
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| I’ve been all around the world
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| Japan to Amsterdam
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| At every convention
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| Rolling woods and swishes
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| Taking hella' bitches
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| Running in dudes' misses
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| From Germany to Britain
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| Flew with the jewels glistening
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| A few screws missing
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| Because my environment had me conditioned
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| 'Til I started travelling
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| Now when I’m in the hood, all the old Gs listen
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| To the stories I be pitching
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| Because they knew me when my life was different
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| I’m a hip hop dude for real
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| Because I ain’t ever have to use the steal
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| I choose to build, break bread and bleed the block
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| Get dough, and look for good weed to cop
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| Proceed with gwop
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| Hold up, breathe to stop
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| Yeah, soak it all in because it means a lot
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| When you’re running around, spending money having fun
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| But even then
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| Fresno’s number one
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| FC, Fresno City
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| Cats quick to let you have it, there’s no pity
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| But on the right side, let me set the record straight
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| Yeah, I get dough, but my baby mamma’s on Section 8
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| Which means I can get cream and stack
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| I’m like Goldie in the town
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| That’s if you’ve seen the mack
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| There’s no place like my hood
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| There’s no place like home
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| There’s no place like the block
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| I sold rocks in Rome
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| Until I D-I-E
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| I’m repping F. C
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| And I’m a do my thing, nigga
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| That’s On Me
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| I’m going back to the streets where we used to meet
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| Share the same 40, man, and flip OZs
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| But this time, man, the zip’s on me
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| Whatever you drink, whatever you sip’s on me
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| It’s the G-O-D and I don’t care
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| Fresno, yeah!
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| Master, master!
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| Master, there’s some trouble. |
| Someone’s arguing at the restaurant,
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| so I went down to see myself. |
| It’s really looking ugly. |
| The guy’s mean.
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| He said his name was Slasher Pete! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Comin' Home , by - Planet Asia. Song from the album Jewelry Box Sessions: The Album, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп