Lyrics Nigga from the Hood - Z-Ro

Nigga from the Hood

Too many niggas, trying to take me off of my game
Just a nigga from the hood, that did a lil' somethin' good
Now they all, wanna jock my fame
But when I coming down, in my foreign
And I’m rolling one deep, that should tell you about me
I don’t give a damn about, none of you hoes
I blast on sight, cause I ain’t tripping no mo'
You can’t knock my hustle, ain’t no games gone be played
Peppin' haters a hundred miles away, through 'Sace shades
Coming down one deep, I ain’t gone stop and try to speak
I keep on rolling mean mugging, as I pull on a sweet
I gave the groove back to Stella, because I knock down yellas
Keep a 4 for myself, and a 4−4 for the jealous
Cause them boys be scoping, intoxicated and hoping
That they run up on Z-Ro, I leave they flesh wide open
Let them take me for what, cause I’d be damned if I slip
Baretta beam in the club, same thang on my hip
Another case like that, if you don’t think I bring hat
Run on up and I’ma bust, and flip your brain like crack
Nothing but dollars we clock, show after show we gon rock
Pimping hoes in the five double O, and baby mamas gon jock
What the fuck is the deal, somebody pass me the kill
Rubatussin and marijuana, with Tylenol pills
Don’t let a snitch see my dope, cause the snitches gon squeel
If they play with my freedom, you know a coffin gon fill
Niggas be working with laws, I’m gon work on they jaws
Putting snitches in ditches, cause I know they be tal’n bout
Every move that I make, that’s why I be solo when I bake
Cooking up in the kitchen, come up with a ounce with no flakes
For goodness sake get back, before my finger start itching
Better believe when I relieve my stress, you might come up missing
I don’t be kissing no ass, take a hit and dump the ash
I’ma chop on 20's, with sparkling oak on my dash
I’m too low to descirbe, out the Screwed Up tribe
Read about it in the Source, Murda Dog and the Vibe
Remember back in '94, they use to laugh at me baby
Now it’s year two triple O, broads be after me baby
Can you recall when I was walking, now I hide behind tint
Cause being in a drop with a Escallade, I know you want to know where I went
I got a bitch named Lucy, for me she sell her coochie
Fly to Japan and China for lunch, when I feel like sushi
Sin to the day we fall, we ball out of control
Everyday at my low key location, hoes fall out of they clothes
Range Rovers and Hummers, 45 Glock gunner
Plus I’m a pen pimping veteran, smelling plex among new comers
How you love a platinum plaque, that means I’m already gold
It ain’t no joke I’m in the sto', five hundred thousand already sold
I’m throwed off in the mind, mic and producer and booms no reap in the wine
Smoke to relax my mind, red hair skunk or lemon lime
Fuck a neuse a nigga might go thet there, to the po-po why pop it
Giving out my phone number on the daily, cause it won’t hurt my pocket
(*talking*)
Man what’s the god damn deal, Southside Northside Eastside Westside
It’s your boy Z-Ro, knocking down the door in year two triple O
S.U.C.
for life, Screw-U it’s for you baby
Heavy Weighters, my nigga Toon, R-O, Big M-O-E
Z to the Ro, Geurilla Maab affiliated know what I’m saying
Putting it down, new millennium it’s ours get that baby