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"Boyz N Da Hood" lyrics by JIM JONES
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"Boyz N Da Hood"
[feat. Chink Sinatra]


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

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