Nigga from the Hood - Z-Ro

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