DJ Slip - Fuc Your Hood lyrics

Geah MC Eiht and Chill up in this b**h The Eihthype thugs up in this b**h, geah Compton in this b**h And we running this sh** like last year my friend, geah The k**ers, check it out I gives a f** where you from Could give a mad f** about your hood sign Keep hittin' me up and you'll get tore up from the floor up (ping) You fake n***as need to peep You gone get hit talking that sh** gone get yo' lip split I reach under my seat for the heat I bust a U-turn and see your a** dash 'cross the f**in street I see you a busta so I start to clown (right) Cause if you was a G you would have stood yo' ground uh But geah it's kinda difficult to stand Your ground when them k**ers got a strap in his hand Point it at yo' dome cause you got that wrong color on You better be hitting that gate real fast or be a shot up a** But I'mma still hit your block with it co*ked I give a f** about nuthin, a 159 n***as dumpin (geah) So don't look dumb And don't act dumb when we come n***a, f** where you from uh (geah) Ain't nuthin' but the k**ers on this side (that's right) Ain't nuthin' but the k**ers on that side (that's right) Ain't nuthin' but the k**ers in the front, k**ers in the back Strapped with macs On a mission down Compton Boulevard (geah) Some n***as rolling up slow looking too hard (they some bustas) They some bustas (that's right) And geah not to mention My hood is on my hat if them fools payed attention (West Side) Hand on my 9 cause I go for broke (geah uh) Peep out the corner of my eye through the endo smoke But what do you know it's another gang story Some fools done slipped and entered the wrong territory I told fools about hitting me up with they signs I guess I gotta hit they a** up with the f**in 9 Pump 2 slugs in the side of their door And they probably tryin' to figure what I'm dumpin for (geah) You don't remember me? well I remember you! When and your crew tried to roll through the f**in loop Now take 2 to your dome And don't look dumb when we come n***a f** where you from uh Chorus... Desert Eagle in the stash and we swervin' Me, Bam, Chill, Little Hawkin Bird, Da Foe in the suburban (West Side) Six deep to the party Putting out hits on n***as like Mr. Gotti (geah) Leave the straps in the truck cause they'll goin pat down We steps in with evil looks, you better scatter clown (geah what up) Ain't nuthin but 159 to the 4 Punk motherf**ers what is you starin' for? (geah) I guess it's time to start thumpin' Open up to the truck Come back with the mac and baby start dumpin' You gone catch some slugs and watch this Scenes look like some n***as in the mist But I guess we got to of y'all For all y'all, the funeral call I don't give a damn where you from n***a, geah