"Hood" lyrics - INSPECTAH DECK


[Verse 1: Rebel INS]
Berettas and Glocks, consecutive shots
Forever it pops, catching double life just for reppin the block
Brotheren or not, the cream 'cause metal to pop
When the smoke clears fake niggas setting up shop
I knew murderaz who blew trial and came home king
Some of ya'll catch a weed charge and start to sing
Criminal life, sinister trife, few are built for
The section of land young blood was spilled for
Not to mention the twenty beans he killed for
His fifty cal shells left in the building door
Animal rights, both sides hands on them pipes
Kenny rogers with the dice how we gamble with life
Cameras and lights a blind fold damage ya sights
Its real, another brother got hammered tonight
Its cold black, co-jacks tappin ya phone jack
Livin by the code I was shown by the old cats
Little nigga grown now totin a mack
Shorties sixteen telling me she blow my back
A day in the life the neighborhood hype
Johhny got blaze and blaze getting money and money got age
He a 86 O.G. who sniff now
Sugar hill romeoo cat who bring ya clique down
Not only was he sniffing the work
They found the wire tap when they ripped open the shirt
Its no hurt, the burners ah burst, the murders occur
Momma on the strip, daughter learning from her
Fish nets with the big breasts working the curb
Quick sex for a big check thirsting to splurge
Drama at night, the [?] start sparkin the light
Its part of the life the high is like bacardi on ice
Party all night and pray that ya make it till morn
In the cursed earth all things sacred are gone
In the hall by the gate door wavin the 4
Keep ya ears to the street or ya face to the floor
Either or heat flame for the 'cause beat jake and the law
Keep takin keep bangin for yours
Son you'd rather be loved than feared
Theres a price on ya head and you can catch slugs from here
The drugs the beer had a nigga bugged for years
Liviing a lie the mask can't cover the tears
Gotta rise up from under the stairs
It never rains in souther cal but its thunderin here
Just look, the killers the crooks the villians the jooks
The flowers by the grave of the witness who looked
Mob style in the broad day business is took
Dirty cop on the tape gettin hit off the book
Heaven for some they squeeze off weapons for fun
Tattoo on his back states second to none
Hard body who died for his section of slum
If its hood than its like that wherever you from