DMX feat. Griselda – Hood Blues Lyrics

Lyrics Hood Blues – DMX feat. Griselda
Ay yo, ay yo, I’m in the hood, eighty K house, million dollar neck
Shot off two hundred rounds, n**gas know where we at
My coke be the best, talk no steps
Headshot took off his whole left
Margiela kicks, Margiela sweats
I’m on the yard doin’ burpees, me, Drop and Fresh

My shooter layin’ low, he got a new body
I spray the Tesla X, you need a new body
Fifty K, got my b**ch a new body
You internet n**gas, y’all punani
The Ace of Spades sipper, yay dealer
Pray five times a day, get on the wave, n**ga

Baddest b**ch you ever seen doin’ my braids, n**ga
The Tech echo like it got delays, n**ga
Your s**t ain’t s**t, get out the way, n**ga
New Yeezys, only me and Ye with ’em
Pay attention, four on the baby come back then leave seven
Guarantee into the rec’ yard, I got the weapon

The Butcher comin’, n**ga
You know how I rock, six figures off Zaza
Come and spend at my shop, I turn your hood to a hotspot
Every game I feel like I’m Dame without a stopwatch
Shootin’ before the shot clock, Griselda got the top spot
Locked down like a pawn shop, n**ga, I’m thinkin’, Why not
I gave my life to the game, but what do I got
Father these n**gas, how I don’t even know my pops
This flip phone that I got don’t connect to the WiFi

Uh-huh, this new foreign s**t with the wood on the door
Got me beefin’ with some n**gas I could’ve put on
They make up lies and put ’em in songs
I pull up to lots, cop, and down the block hear me pull in the yard
Yeah, prayin’ with my dirty hands
I did dirt and scammed, I’m askin’
God, do I deserve these bands
And we from murder land, eastside s**t
Jeans Purple Brand, ridin’ in the GLE, the turtle van

Ah, look, you throwin’ shots You better be precise
If I only squeeze it twice, that’s me bein’ polite
We was in the trenches, n**ga, four chicken wings and rice
The shooter fourteen, can’t read or write, but he gon’ squeeze his pipe
We was tryna sell a key a night
‘Cause Nas said a G at night wasn’t good enough, and he was right
They mad I’m rich, the same n**gas that wouldn’t see my plight
The Nets playin’, I’m ridin’ to the game with KD tonight

Yeah, machine b**ch, every beat I body
My n**ga on his way home, he just beat a body
Every time I leave the house, I got the steamer by me
My jacket a one of none, you never seen it probably
I took some cheddar out the vault to pay the lawyer for my man
Weapon possession and felony assault
Whippin’ up at Unc house, he keep the resi’ off the fork
I’m Kyrie hittin’ n**gas with the hezy on the court

Look, I reached the point n**gas never would’ve thought
‘Cause every time I drop somethin’ I don’t never get support
FN MAC shots severin’ your corpse
You never could extort me, my heart cold as February 4th
They hate to see me win, I’m not surprised
N**ga, I’m f**kin the b**ches them bum b**ches you f**ks idolize
I’m in Harlem at Lighthouse eatin’ lobster fries
Vee & Shooter with me, I got mobster ties
Machine, b**ch

I grew up at the dark side, apartheid
Where goin’ against the grain’ll get you kidnapped and hogtied
X the illest n**ga, realest n**ga
Never been scared, I’m a fearless n**ga
I got that cannon that’ll remove your head and shoulders
Cats that play in the street, get ran over
I’ma make you hand over everything you got
I’m not the average do damage ’cause I’m a savage
Sometimes I can’t manage all the s**t in my head
I was promised the world but I got the dirt instead
Turn the light, I was bred to shed blood
It’s always gonna be f**k you, n**ga, what
Built for war, raw, this .44 will hit you through the door
You exist no more
I done punk’d more n**gas than Ashton Kutcher
It’s Westside, Conway, X, and Benny the Butcher, n**ga

Get like you lit, n**ga
Get how you f**kin’ lit, n**ga
You know what the f**k it is
You know what the f**k it is, n**ga
I ain’t fifty years old for nothing, aight
I’m not fifty years old for nothing
F**k outta here, p**sy a*s n**gas
I’m from a small town called, wish a n**ga would
And I wish a n**ga would
Outta here, arf…
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