Boyz N Da Hood

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Ladies and gentlemen, gentlemen and ladies
Hop in the fo' with me, let's ride through the 80s
I was a baby, the block was hotter than Hades
I was mad doggin' niggas like rottweilers with rabies
Living in the hood far from Beverly Hills
Mama smoking on a joint playing Stephanie Mills
My cousin Doc hopping out his '87 Deville
He said remember real gangstas do whatever we feel
Ya hear me?
Picture a kid raised by that logic
As he passed I noticed that pistol in his back pocket
I was bred to slang weed sacks to stack profit
Wnen I shoulda been more into sports like Zack Crockett
I'm watching gangstas swallow whole bottles of brew
Wanted to be just like the only role models I knew
You could get in with the red, you could go follow the blue
Let the streets raise your child is what no father should do
But I didn't have one so I jumped in the back seat
They gave me that goon game, they taught me to pack heat
They taught me to cook crack, they taught me to mack freaks
They taught me to enemies in the past like last week
Not a one of them who wasn't high, wasn't high
Levis creased up with the button fly, button fly
Niggas throw the East up, it was thug or die, thug or die
So if you niggas G'ed up what the fuck am I, fuck am I?
I was just a young youth who was watching the murder show
Using curl activator and looking like Kurtis Blow
At that young tender age most never heard of blow
But my brother be serving, I seen him chop a bird or so
With the purple convertible fo' parked in the front
Said this New York shit, Crooked, sparked him a blunt
Back then niggas was fucking with Zig Zag papers
Blowing on homegrown like six damn acres
Started jacking dealers, them Slim Fast capers
That's when you lose weight if your snitch-ass neighbors
Want to take a bite out of crime, that neighborhood watch
We give 'em nine at a time while the neighborhood watch
Crooked love the game them thugs taught 'em
Yeah black croker sacks with the gun bottom
Mama, every color Lottos, your son got 'em
'38 snub nose, give me one problem
If you was there in the 80s than you know what I mean
Crack fiends in the alley, Billy Jean on the screen
Punk-ass crash unit trying to lean on your team
Wall banging, roll call, let 'em see the regime
Them ringleaders needed us little niggas, we was the key to the scheme
Get them nine millimeters to scream
They put a battery in our back, man them heaters are seen
We was lost, sleepwalking not believing in dreams
The 90s came, woke us up, gave us knowledge of self
This self-educated nigga had to college hisself
Polished off every book then I swallowed the shelf
Lifted moms 'cause my father never bothered to help
Man I thank God I survived the storm
A cop looked in my eyes, asked was I reformed
I asked him, do you wear the hat to hide your horns?
Why lie, you been hating me since I was born
In your eyesight I do drive-bys every night
So fuck it, I stay thuggin', it's easy as Eric Wright
Man I'm cruising through the beach in my Benzo
Ice heavy on my neck while I'm spittin' at hoes
I went to King Park to get the scoop
I saw Big C Style in a Bentley Coupe
A Range pulls up, who could it be
My nigga Sauce he coming from the 103
He rolled down his window and he said to me
It's all about that motherfuckin' C.O.B