I want to know who's from the hood right now, who's all about that, I was woofin' out loud
And you can save that rest in peace *, cause to my sons I'm alive, won't you hear the .45 spit
It's blood in, blood out, don't you get it, you fuckin' with them demons, you'll regret it
And every man for himself, yeah right, punk would talk like that
You'll end up in the trunk, bound in gag from your head to your feet, ain't that scary
Nothin's gonna save you, not even virgin Mary
I wear this tack on my neck with respect, blastin' enemies out, till there ain't nothin' left
I gave up one to the dome, and two to the chest, you fuckin' little demon, take your last breath
Pray to God, will he take you, or the gates be closed, or your homies gonna ride, or just let it go
Now if I die tonight, tell me who's gonna die
My homies from the hood, or is my soul gonna split em?
I wanna know, who wears those caras, who ready from the hood, who ain't about nada
If I die tonight, tell me who's gonna hit em
My homies from the hood, or is my soul gonna split em?
I wanna know, who wears those caras, who ready from the hood, who ain't about nada
Yo, quiero saber, quien es duro y cual es soldado, de veras traen jugo
Traigo una voz que me dice en mi mente, matalos, matalos
Siempre, no conozco, vatos que son chachas, de esos no barrios
Palabra, traigo balas y salen de los cuernos, te dejan frio como cuerpos muertos
Ya hable con el diablo en el espejo, si puntas dedos, garras el fierro
En el condado te comen los perros, los angeles y tambien los balleros
Alguien te dijo una mentira, no eres loco, ven aqui, mira
I'm with you, I'm with you, I'm with you, I'm with you
Muchos cholos y quieren el respeto, ojos a las cae, o te dejan pendejo
If I die tonight, tell me who's gonna hit em?
My homies from the hood, or is my soul gonna split em?
I wanna know, who wears those caras, who ready from the hood, who ain't about nada
If I die tonight, tell me who's gonna hit em?
My homies from the hood, or is my soul gonna split em?
I wanna know, who wears those caras, who ready from the hood, who ain't about nada
Last night, I caught a * hot one
Two to my neck, and one in my lung, I can't breathe
Slowly coughing up blood
Dying in this bed all full of * drugs
The night started good, another party in the hood
Three enemies in the caddy Fleetwood
I was slipping, had these hoes in my ride
I didn't know they was from the other side
We hit the boulevard, not tripping on *
Thinking back, it had to be the fat bitch in my rearview
I seen her, talking on the phone right then and there
It came to Fleetwood, bro, pop pop
About eight or nine times
On Wiggy or Boulevard, I hit the flat line
Will I die for the hood or will my soul fight back?
Only the strong survive, time for the big payback
If I die tonight, tell me who's gon' hit em
My homies from the hood or is my soul gon' slit em?
I wanna know, who wears those skydives?
Who ready from the hood, who ain't about nada?
If I die tonight, tell me who's gon' hit em
My homies from the hood or is my soul gon' slit em?
I wanna know, who wears those skydives?
Who ready from the hood, who ain't about nada?
Who ready from the hood, who ain't about nada?