In the Hood
Trae Feat. Yung Joc Lyrics

Now see, the definition of a real nigga
Let me explain to you what being a true street hustler really means

Is about it, in this motherfucking song right here
It's the subject of this song we're rapping about right now

You know, it took two real niggaz to collab
It took two skilled rappers to create this track

And make some motherfucking shit happen, man
And the collaboration resulted in some amazing music

I'm a gangsta to the end, riding for the set
I'm a true gangster and I'll always support my crew

Black Chevrolet, with the paint still wet
I'm cruising in a black Chevy that I just had painted

J's on my toes, locs on my eyes
I'm wearing Jordans on my feet and sunglasses on my eyes

Crawling on fours, every time I slide by
I'm driving my car slowly, taking over the streets

Nothing less than the truth, on the streets of the South
I always tell it like it is, especially when on the streets

Hos on my swag 'cause the diamonds in my mouth
Women love my style because of the expensive jewelry in my mouth

But I move low key, posted in the trap
I prefer to keep to myself while doing business in a secluded area

Raw with the rap, to put my hood on the map
I speak the truth on my tracks and want my hometown to be recognized

What they know about that, haters better chill
People who think they know me and my success should relax and stop hating

Plus I'm packing something, that they classify steel
I'm carrying a firearm that's considered illegal

Repping my block, still doing my thang
I'm still representing my neighborhood and doing what I do best

Trunk full of bang, holding A.B.N. gang
My car's trunk is full of drugs and weapons, representing my gang

Screwed up click, I'm a let the world know
I'm part of the 'Screwed Up Click' and want the world to recognize it

Before it's all over, we gon' make the world slow
We're going to make slow-paced Southern rap popular worldwide

You can find me in the hood, swanging in a drop
I'm always hanging out in the neighborhood, driving a convertible

Trunk popped up, now I'm letting back the top
My car's trunk is open and I'm lowering the convertible top

Locs on my face, and my grill so clean
I'm wearing sunglasses and have clean jewelry in my mouth

Thirty grand talk, boppers hopping on my team
I'm rich and have women attracted to me because of my money

Moving so slow, banging my screw
I'm driving my car slowly and playing screwed and chopped music

Hop out on the block, still hollin' 'what it do'
I get out of my car and continue to greet my crew

'65 Impala, Chevy SS
I drive a 1965 Impala Chevy SS

The top disappear, see the clear VVS
The convertible top of the car is gone and the diamonds on my jewelry are very clear

I guess you know the name, I ain't even gotta say it
You already know who I am, I don't even need to introduce myself

When I say it's going down, SK start spraying
When I say it's time for action, my team will start shooting

Block E-N-T, and A.B.N. niggaz in charge
I represent 'Block Entertainment' and my gang 'A.B.N.' are in control

Ery'body mugging, nigga face different starch
Everybody is looking at us, their faces expressing different emotions

I'm a let you pull your card, but watch how quick I pull it
I'll let you test me, but beware of how fast I might react

Ay fuck a semi-auto, my niggaz pack fullest
We don't need semi-automatic weapons, my crew carries the most powerful ones

We bullies on the block, the hustle don't stop
We're in charge on the streets and the business doesn't stop

It's eat what you kill, that's the motto off top
We live by the rule 'survival of the fittest'

Yeah, it's the A-Town, and the H-Town
I represent Atlanta and Trae represents Houston

Tell 'em this the shake down, lay face down
This is a robbery, everyone lie down with your face to the ground

Me and my nigga Trae, getting cake now
Trae and I are making a lot of money now

Split it down the middle, 50-50 that's the break down
We share our profits equally and that's our agreement

Baby, keep your face down, and don't talk back
Don't move or make noise, just cooperate

My guns go off, when my fists is hard
I shoot guns if necessary, but I prefer to fight with my fists

Mobbed up 'cause nigga pistols'll scar
My gang is armed and dangerous, our weapons will leave you with scars

You got your knife on you, homie, that's for twisting cigars
You carry a knife on you for recreational purposes

I got my knife on me, homie, that's for twisting your guards
I have a knife with me to harm those who oppose me

These niggaz, wanna play you for weak
People want to take advantage of you if they think you're weak

It's going down, motherfuckers drizzown when they playing it deep
People who underestimate us will regret it when we retaliate

I do the damn thang, niggaz talking about it
I do everything right, people are talking about my success

I'm a problem run into it, you ain't walking up out it
If you try to fight me, you won't leave unscathed

Sensei'll fade the pack, I get mean
I'm a master fighter, I know how to defend myself

Lean on you with this beam, till you fade to black
I'll hurt you badly with my gun until you pass out

Cuffing broads, cause I mack on chicks
I hook up with many women and 'cuff' them to keep them around

I go hard same nigga hit your hard, put your Lac on bricks
I go hard in everything I do and will leave you in a bad state

Niggaz a trip, crock bull give niggaz the clip
Other people are always trying to start trouble, but we retaliate with firearms

Slap niggaz in they trap, when they giving me lip
I physically attack people who disrespect me or talk back

S.U.C. my nigga, we missing H.A.W.K.
I represent the Screwed Up Click and we still miss H.A.W.K.

I'm gon' live through the rest of the click, that's real talk
I'll happily continue the legacy of the Screwed Up Click

Hop out on the block, like I'm still hitting stangs
I get off of my car like I'm still driving my classic Ford Mustang

Platinum in the hood, so they tend to know my name
My platinum-selling music is popular in the neighborhood, everyone knows who I am

Yellow VS-1's, got me switching up the game
I own yellow diamonds and my prosperity changed things up

Might hop fly, top dropping like the rain
I might drive a flashy car with a removable top

Hoes talk down, Trae never get mad
Women might criticize me, but I don't let it bother me

Niggaz old school, still jacking my swag'
Older people might try to copy my style, but I take it as a compliment

Y'all concerned about a playa, since the day of my birth
People have been talking about me and my success from day one

Grab a couple mill, and I can show you what I'm worth
Once I make a few million dollars, I'll prove my true value

Sitting so low, every time I come down
My car is low to the ground and I get noticed every time I drive by

Trunk just popped, so I'm showing my surround
I just opened my car's trunk to show off my sound system

84's got me tipping, so low to the ground
I'm driving with rims that are low-riding and stylish

Still hitting licks, moving off the Greyhound
I'm still conducting illegal activities while traveling by bus

Watching for the laws, I ain't fucking with the time
I'm always looking out for the police, I don't want to go to jail

Bitch I'm in my prime, ain't no stopping my shine
I'm at my peak and nobody can bring me down

I advise, that they lead the truth to the throne
I suggest people to speak honestly and openly to me

If you say I ain't the realest, say bitch you dead wrong
If you doubt my authenticity, you're mistaken