| Mama used to beat me with my trophy
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| My teacher used to chase me through the hallway
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| My nigga, he done snaked me for my.38
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| I put my dawg on, he went and made a hundred K
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| I’m from the hood, I’m so hood, that’s the hood in me
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| Never watched my dawg starve, that’s the good in me
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| Real nigga, know my Jordans 1 through 23
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| Name a nigga in my city that can shit on me
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| I got a Glock.30 filled with zombies
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| I’m like a new pair of Loubs, niggas want me
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| I’m in some Off White, niggas wanna off me
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| Pressa make the hood look like palm trees
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| First and furthermore, let’s get this clear like Avianne
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| Pull up on his block, we shmurda shit just like we Bobby
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| This rap shit just ain’t easy, for this shit you need a body
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| Baby girl got freckles on her face, look like a cookie
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| And why not? |
| Just go blow some bands, don’t wear no Reebok
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| Never catch me in the hood rockin' fake designer
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| Never catch me hangin' on the block without my handgun
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| He ain’t killed nobody, but he claim he a gangsta
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| My niggas play your block, it’s on repeat
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| My dawg underground like it’s P3
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| Uzi shout me out on the TV
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| I keep sayin' I’ma blow, they won’t believe me
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| My shooters, my shooters, they come in varies
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| These niggas, they bitches, they scared of police
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| The Feds hate a nigga, they stole my jewelry
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| Wassi a sav, he legendary
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| It’s scary, I bet he in this room, he prolly hear me
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| Pressa lock the city like a Dudley
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| My niggas swing around like a monkey
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| I got a glizzy, rockin' in my Monclers
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| Traphouse whippin' dope and I done broke my wrist
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| And ceelo’s only time a nigga gamble
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| These niggas hesitate, they start to fiddle
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| Where I’m from, homicides go by the triple
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| Mama used to beat me with my trophy
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| My teacher used to chase me through the hallway
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| My nigga, he done snaked me for my.38
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| I put my dawg on, he went and made a hundred K
|
| I’m from the hood, I’m so hood, that’s the hood in me
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| Never watched my dawg starve, that’s the good in me
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| Real nigga, know my Jordans 1 through 23
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| Name a nigga in my city that can shit on me
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| Real nigga, never stole out my mom’s purse
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| Grade school, mama used to tuck my collar
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| Loyalty’s a price, I can’t rob her
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| I went from baller to a baller
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| I went from ball court to a bando
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| So much hand transactions, I got handles
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| It’s fucked up how I made money on
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| I’ll never leave my dawg, yeah, for dead like a weirdo
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| 'Cause niggas nowadays, they so fake, man
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| Where I’m from, we take your gun if you’re a wasteman
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| And all that sit-at-home shit, never rate that
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| I hit the road and got dirty on my way back
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| Niggas sit at home playin' video games
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| I learned to go and get it, by a minimum wage
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| My nigga’s on your block, he needs to relocate
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| Shoot a nigga in his face, do it the drifter way
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| Yeah, you know how we rock, do it the drifter way, shit
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| Free my niggas, R.I.P. |
| my niggas and shout all my bros |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hood Trophy , by - Pressa. Song from the album Press a Brick, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп