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This one is called IN MY HOOD.. No It Is Not My Best And Doesnt Compare To Some Of My Best.. I Had An Episode Of Sadness And Anger. More Like A Depressed Feeling So Im Sorry For Its Poor Quality
In my hood theres bravery and there's the lion hearted.
Always murder never peacefully departed.
There's different gangs clicks and crews, always some beef getting started.
As kids we felt safe and well guarded.
Nah.
That's a lie, saying that I must be retarded.
Growing up our families didn't think we knew what was going on.
Sh*t I knew, that's why three of my homies is gone.
Everyday we start a new war, guns always drawn.
I hear that pistol pop, homicide on my front lawn.
When we dispute, we don't sit and discuss, we shoot it out till the cops slaps on cuffs.
We have fathers and brothers locked a way in a cell as if death wasn't enough.
From the time you grow some hair on your nuts you better play rough.
In these you gotta be strong and tough.
To numb our pain we light up and puff.
No emotion.
They tell me a gangster that cries ain't a gangster at all.
In my hood you better stand tall.
Up on my block you better not fall.
Better stay calm when you hear the green light call.
Get your back off that wall.
I turn the tube to the news and hear of wrong doing and violence.
Laugh cuz in the hood we terrified when we hear nothing but silence.
Sh*t I cant sleep unless I hear the police sirens.
On Sunday I'm in church cuz another funeral or wake.
The hommie gets caught slipping, I can't make that mistake.
At night I pray only for my families sake.
Then I stay lying awake.
Turn on the radio to hear gangsta rap but you and I know they fake.
Bullet to my dome would be icing to a cake.
Sometimes I wish for death.
Especially after a hommie takes his last breath.
Wish for money so I commit theft.
The big hommie tells me to loom out it's war.
The same reason I ain't want to be here no more.
All I see is the scars and wounds that became a big sore.
I wonder if that's how the soldiers felt when they stormed Normandy's shore.
We have to be hard cuz we soldiers to our core.
Drugged up.
I hear the crack heads in my back alley fighting over the last rocks.
So I run on them prepared to box.
Broke all their jaws from the socks.
I go to school and look around.
I see nice young girls that are pregnant bound.
I go to sleep hoping I won't hear that taunting sound.
The sound that puts a homie in the ground.
Throw funeral roses in the hole we surround.
