[Chorus]
I know it's hard in every hood I know
Struggle in every ghetto I know
But not like the one I know
I see the law in every hood I go
They throw metal in every hood I know
But not like the one I know

[Oschino]
We all started innocent
Eating Reese's Pieces
I was young, then wearing 5 star Aleses
Bullet in ya gut a have a bag catch ya feces

20 months, vision quest, sleeping in a tepee
Since my dad died, attitude worsened
That's why I stole cars before I could write cursive
Thousand miles from being rich, stuck on my grind

Try to sale nickel bags like Louie Baton
I'm young, I'm good, best shape of my life
One shot from big shit a blow you out of ya Nikes
Only a dick head wouldn't want to be rich

And do his car like school and drop out in the 6
You could look at my wrist, It wasn't shit on it
But I was determined to get a little gliss on em
The 40 ounce bottles done turned to Cris on em
And every bitch that was fronting, I'ma piss on em

[Beanie Sigel]
My hood dog
Like any average one
You know the dirty kids on the block having fun
Hand to hand is how the grams is slung

In tanned Timberlands and [unknown] until them vans a come
It's all good now
But you remember those latter days
Them tubleware, soul food platter days

That was ya mom little hustle on a Saturdays
Back then, when it really didn't matter days
You would take that beating
'Cause you wasn't trying to be

The only one who missed the house party on the weekend
Knowing that them project chicks was in there freaking
Grinding off "As We Lay"
Walk with me why'all

Back in the Day, you and ya man slap tapping away
Pitching chains, playing craps everyday
Getting high on the block
Green bottles of private stock

2 dollar 40's
Sparks tell ya story

[Chorus]

[Sparks]
I come up fragile and timid
Pressed to the limit
12 years old, no household
From the start I was finished

Disowned by the biologicals
And adopted by rolling stones on corners, sipping Thunderbird
Banging needles and pushing stolen Regals
And with no hoe and no money, layered my hunger pains daily with rice and gravy

Stuck between a rock and a hard spot as a juvenile
Just made me want to holla "Lord help me"
But I had will power
Stole a burner from Uncle Lester

And that .22 long blossomed to wild flower
Now when I enter rooms the conversation stop
And them cock suckers whisper
These faggots ain't got no cahunas

So if they so much as touch me
I cock back and put like bananas on them mokey motherfuckers
Show no love for these cock suckers
Weeping

Who can't deal with life situations cause that's money to me
Uhh
Murder

[Freeway]
Now who am I
Little nigga named Free from the hood
What I do
Make a living, make a killing in the hood

What I'm trying to do now
Get my children out the hood
Before the ATF start coming
Plot, plot on

Now who am I
Little nigga named Free from the block
What I do
Make a living , make a killing on the block

What I'm trying to do now
Get my children off the block
And my real niggas, if they coming, clique come on
In my hood, F-are-double uh

Cock back, double pump
You rapping, I just happen to have some space in the trunk
89' dough, space in the front
Will ya hoe fit?

Beef come, we be dumping the whole clip
Having lunch, while you be fronting, be fucking ya hoe sick
Send her home, can't hump
Send my nigga's through ya block, can't pump

Grind, watch for the cops
Shit tucked
I'll be watching them lady CO's if I slip up
Uh Uh

[Chorus: x 2]

[Chris and Sigel talking]
Yo, I'm saying Mac, I know I'm young and all
(Yeah that's what's up?)
But I been through a little struggle too
(What you been through?)
Lot of crazy shit dog, ya know?
(Shit Don't tell me, you got opportunity to tell the world)
Feel this dog
(Speak ya story, Yung Gun)

[Chris]
Yo I was brought up in the wildest streets
Where niggas pack everyday, and everybody crowd to eat
24/7, no time to sleep
A g and up, reign up, 3 times a week

Throwing numbers on the strip
The youngin' out the clique
Moves like Carl Lewis when it's coming out the clip
Uh, Still in school, all the learning I can get

Focused, trying to purchase all the burners I can get
I know plenty niggas fell, trying to chauffer through this shit
These niggas tell, then a murder gon exist
It's no joke in the hood

Especially when the boat ain't make it across
And we ain't got no coke in the hood
That's where rap come in at, more notes in a book
Dro in the woods, Mom dukes trying to lay low in the woods
[Raps to fade]

Writer : DWIGHT GRANT, CHRISTOPHER RIES, LESLIE PRIDGEN, KENNETH JOHNSON, BERNARD PARKER, OMARR
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, BMG RUBY SONGS , BMG RUBY SONGS OBO 1996 MUSIC LANE PUBLISHING , BMG RUBY SONGS OBO YOUNG CHRIS MUSIC , Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC