In My Neighborhood (original radio edit)
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Hey, what up, Spice?
What up, man Banks?
Know what I'm sayin'? What's goin' on in the hood, man?
Not much, man, same old thing, you know
Yeah, tryin' to get that mail on, you know
Get your mail on, that's 91 rules
Yeah, so why don't you get on this mic
Kick somethin' funky and we can get paid together
You know what I'm sayin'?
Yeah, I hear you
Alright, do it
Check it
I like to walk around my hood and smoke a dank-a-lot
I see 'em coolin' by the trees as they slangin' rocks
Runnin' through a broken down wooden fence
A clucker didn't have brains 'cause he smoked scents
Or sess or whatever you wanna call it
He got the task on his back, better haul it
Fiends talkin' up the crack in the back yard
Dropped the kibble on the ground, now he's lookin' hard
Will he keep suckin' or will he cease and just forget the hit
Or pull a jack move and let the nine clip?
I'm in the cut late night about twelve 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 flow the pay check
Another day, a mangled body in the alleyway
That's what the boys in the Bay of the Cali say
The California life, task in the pine trees
Brothers be clockin' G's, slangin' ki's
Up in my neighborhood
In my neighborhood
In my, in my, in my neighborhood, hey
In my neighborhood
Funk is a part of my life
It's the sounds of the gangsta's spots
One, check out the barrel of a handgun
Thirteen clip millimeter, have one
Or two, or three, or four
'Cause every brother in my hood is hardcore
Boom, boom, hear the TEC double cock
Pop, pop, pop, see another one drop
Murderous when I'm hit off the peppermint Schnapps
And when you look around, other brothers slangin' rocks
Never would've thought I'd been a dealer of dope
Shootin', bangin' and slangin' and breakin' necks and throats
Despite what's poppin', the gentle fuzz kept rockin' my jock
Tick-tock, I watch the clock, they plot
See an undercover cop, now he's off the block
That's how it is in the game of slangin' rocks
'Cause on the TV, they make it look real good
But Mister Rogers ain't got nothin' on brothers
Up in my neighborhood
In my neighborhood
In my, in my, in my neighborhood, hey
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 dope fiend yellin' he's a O.G
He scratched his head and started starin' like he knows me
I said, "What up, old man? I seen your face before"
It was my homie's pop, shirt dirty, pants tore
He had a forty in his hand left a little swallow
He yelled, "Young boy" and then he threw the bottle
I ducked down behind the car and heard the bottle smash
Stepped two feet up and then I bolted fast
I started kickin' and stompin', all the homies' brains out
Some ladies tellin' me, "Freeze" and runnin' out the house
It was his beat-up wife, she started bustin' at me
The bald-head broad, she went trigger happy
The police came just in the nick of time
Didn't wanna talk, so right then I had to go for mine
Got to the house and started thinkin' what I could and should
The police would've just jacked me, rat-packed me
In my neighborhood
In my neighborhood
In my, in my, in my neighborhood, hey
In my neighborhood
In my, in my, in my neighborhood, hey
In my neighborhood
In my, in my, in my neighborhood, hey