Jim Jones - Boyz N Da Hood lyrics

rate me

ft. Chink Santana

I haven’t been up this early in a long time

Turned on the TV this morning, heard the shit on the box

About living in a violent, violent world

Showed all these foreign places, foreigners live in them

Started thinking man, thinking they don’t know

On a shelf, we all camp out, what’s going on with the whole world

Buy ahead and pour out liquor for my dead homies

Finna flying kites at my fed homies

And the dogs upstate with a bad only

In a locker if we pop you it’s your head only

We only kick drug dealer tales

Another story where you hear a drug dealer tale

I mean these niggas, they ain’t holding water

Shit, my watch trippy like a frozen water

Can I live then we go to Florida

KOD on Mondays, hey, you know the order

My dope boys are my sole supporters

Way too many stories of opposing porters

Niggas fronting like they have half frozen quarters

Six pack, man, and a roll of quarters

We was supposed to front the laundry man

With the mad motherfucker, better honor that

Old niggas coming home for them long stretches

We just hope the war is so raw it stretches

Hope the young niggas don’t get the wrong message

But listen close and you can clearly hear the song’s message

I’m took in, try to tell you them trees cold

Soon as they catch their case then bitch niggas fold

Ain’t no more honor in these streets

Soon as they get their heat forget that CODE

You should go on, gone and buck them

Fuck their families, their kids and their momma, just gonna fuck ‘em

If you heard the telling, just go and fuck ‘em

This is back in the game, betrayed and go fuck ‘em

My memory is like a cemetery

Heaven just of memories of men I buried

So many cars, man, they tend to vary

So many niggas coming home, they say their plan was scary

So I respect them for that truthful fact

But it’s baiting disrespect when my wolf go back

I’m not a saint like a lot today, but I take niggas to church on Saturday

I’m talking black suits for everybody

We getting money, buying black coupes for everybody

Uncle Rick was in the kitchen, cooking

I was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking

There was hammers in the doors of every whip I’m pushing

I could spend a couple grand on any nigga looking

I remember selling coke at a rapid pace

On the highway just focus on the traffic plates

Well, that’s another trick I’ll tell you about

And don’t trip if you slip, we’ll bail you out

Well, let’s now pay the waiting game

We gonna wait to see if he gonna say some names

I’m took in, try to tell you them trees cold

Soon as they catch their case then bitch niggas fold

Ain’t no more honor in these streets

Soon as they get their heat forget that CODE

You should go on, gone and buck them

Fuck their families, their kids and their momma, just gonna fuck ‘em

If you heard the telling, just go and fuck ‘em

This is back in the game, betrayed and go fuck ‘em