In My Neighborhood

Hey yo, Spice, what's goin' on, man? I see five-O over there, is that five-O? Same muthafuckas that beat my partner down last week But I ain't trippin', I got this 187 Proof by my side It's finna be on, is that right? Yeah But where you stayin' at, man, what's goin' on? Same muthafuckin' neighborhood, man Just tryin' to get this shit off the ground This rap thing, you know? Yeah, I heard that shit, man Let them niggas know what time it is, yeah, check it I like to walk around my hood, smokin' dank a lot I see some brothers in the trees, is they slingin' rocks? Runnin' through a broken-down wooden fence A nigga didn't have brains 'cause he smoked sinse Or sess, or whatever you wanna call it, he got the task on his ass Better haul it, fiends suckin' up the crack in the backyard Dropped a pebble on the ground, now he's lookin' hard Will he keep searchin' or will he cease and just forget the hit? Or pull a jack move and let the nine click, I'm in the cut, late night About 12 O'clock, I see some brothers bustin' caps in a parking lot There go my homies rollin' up in a black 'Vette Nothin' but the money for the paycheck Another day, another dead up in the alleyway That's what the boys in the Bay up in Cali say The California life, task in the palm trees Brothers be clockin' G's, slingin' KI's up in my neighborhood In my neighborhood In my, in my, in my neighborhood In my neighborhood Funk, is a part of my life It's the sound of the gangster Spice Warning, check out the blast of a shotgun Nine muthafuckin' millimeter, have one or two or three or four 'Cause every brother in my hood is hardcore Boom-boom to the death of a cop, pop-pop-pop, see another one drop Crazy-ass nigga off the peppermint schnapps And now you wonder why young niggas sling hop? Never woulda thought I'd be a dealer of dope Niggas slingin' and bangin' and breakin' necks and throats The spot, it was poppin', but yet the fuzz kept ridin' my jock Tick-tock, I watch the clock, they flock See a undercover cop raise off the block That's how it is in the game of slingin' rocks 'Cause on the TV they make it look real good But Mr. Rogers ain't got shit on my niggas up in the neighborhood In my neighborhood In my, in my, in my neighborhood In my neighborhood Welcome to the ghetto, although I call it my neighborhood Some people get out, but some people stay for good I see a dopefiend yellin' he's a O.G. He scratched his head and started starin' like he knows me I say, "What up, old man, I seen your face before" It was my homie's pops, shirt dirty, pants tore He had a 40 in his hand, left a little swallow He said, "Young-ass nigga," and then he threw the bottle I ducked down, and I had to duck real fast Stepped two feet back, and then I banked his ass I started kickin' and stompin' my nigga's brains out I heard a bitch yell "Freeze" and runnin' out the house It was his wife, and the bitch started bustin' at me I can't believe this shit, this bitch is trigger-happy Pull out my nine, bust the bitch in the left titty That's how it is in a burned-out dopefiend city And now you're sayin' I'm the nigga up to no good If gives a fuck if you're Bush, you get jacked up in my neighborhood In my neighborhood In my, in my, in my neighborhood In my neighborhood