Z-Ro Lyrics

Album: Unknown

Nigga From the Hood Lyrics

[Chorus]

 Too many niggas, trying to take me off of my game

 Just a nigga from the hood, that's looks some good

 Now they all want to to jock my fame

 When I coming down in my ?born?

 And I'm rolling one deep that should tell you about me

 I don't give a damn about none of you hoes

 I blast on sight cause I ain't tripping no more

 

 [Z-Ro]

 You can't knock my hustle, ain't no games gone be played

 Even haters a hundred miles away, deuce out they shades

 Coming down one deep, I ain't gone stop and try to speak

 I keep on rolling mean mugging as I pull on a sweet

 I gave a cool package of sellers, because I knocked down yellas

 Keep a 4 for myself and a 4-4 for the jealous

 Cause them boys be scoping, intoxicated and hoping

 That they run up on Z-Ro I leave they flesh wide open

 Let them take me for what, cause I be damned if I slip

 Beretta beam in the club same thang on my hip

 Another case like that, if you don't think I bring that

 Run on up and I'ma bust and flip your brain like crack

 

 [Chorus]

 

 [Z-Ro]

 Nothing but dollars we clock, show after show we gone rock

 Pimpin hoes in the five double o and baby mamas gone jock

 What the fuck is the deal, somebody pass me the kill

 Rubatussin and marijuana, one time and I peal

 Don't let a snitch see my dope, cause the snitches gone squeel

 If they play with my freedom, you know a coffin gone feel 

 Niggas be working with louds, I'm gone work on they jaws

 Putting snitches in ditches cause I know they be talking bout

 Every move that I make, that's why I be solo when I bake

 Cooking up in the kitchen come up with a ounce with no flakes

 Cause when I say get back, before my finger start itching

 Better believe when I relieve my stress you might come up missing

 I don't be kissing no ass, take a hit and dump the ash

 I'ma chop on 20's with sparkling oak on my dash

 I'm too low to descirbe, out the Screwed Up tribe

 Read about it in the Source, Murda Dog and the Vibe

 

 [Chorus]

 

 [Z-Ro]

 Remember back in 94 they use to laugh at me baby

 Now it's year two triple o broads be after me baby

 Can you recall when I was sparkling now I hide behind 10

 Cause being in a drop with a escallade I know you want to know where I went

 I got a bitch named Lucy, for me she sell her coochie

 Finest in the vagina for lunch when I feel like sushi

 See it to the day we fall, we ball out of control

 Everyday at my low key location hoes fall out of they clothes

 Range Rovers and Hummers, 45 glock gunner

 Plus I'm a pen pimping veteran, smelling plex among new comers

 How you love a platinum plack it means I'm already gold

 It ain't no joke I'm in the scope, five hundred thousand already sold

 I'm throwed off in the mind, mic and producer and booms no ?reap? in the wine

 Smoke to relax my mind, radio songs go lemon lime

 Fuck a neuse a niggas might go thet there to the po po why pop it

 Giving out my phone number on the daily cause it won't hurt my pocket

 

 [Chorus]

 

 [Z-Ro: outro]

 Man, what's the god damn deal, Southside, Northside, Eastside, Westside

 It's your boy Z-Ro, knocking down the door in year two triple o

 S.U.C. for life, screw you, it's for you baby

 Heavy Weighters, my nigga Toon, R-O, Big M-O-E

 Z to the Ro, Geurilla Maab affilliated, know what I'm saying

 Putting it down, new millenium it's ours, get that baby