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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Coolio
Coolio
Vocals
Stan Jones
Stan Jones
Bass Guitar
The Homies
The Homies
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Artis Ivey Jr.
Artis Ivey Jr.
Songwriter
Ralph MacDonald
Ralph MacDonald
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dobbs The Wino
Dobbs The Wino
Producer
Brian Dobbs
Brian Dobbs
Producer

Lyrics

This record goes out to all you fake ass Gangsta baller bueschwa-minded ass house niggas who forget their colour Put on a suit and tie and escape from the ghetto And don't never come back Yeah motherfucker, you can run, but you sure can't hide! Deep down in the jungle with a crack to the throat Niggas kill niggas for steppin' on their toe A girl is a bitch and a lady is a ho When anything goes for a little bit o'docey Shit get cooked by thugs and crooks With the knowledge of a scholar, but they don't read books Every day is a chance that ya life might go So today is a day that ya gotta get paid Slang them ki's, make them g's Do what'cha want, but ya sell what'cha please But don't forget where you come from 'Cause when you do that you're done Remember your niggas and bitches in the trenches And dig into your pockets for some figures When you get it goin', and you got it goin' good You better bring back somethin' fo' da hood Bring back somethin' fo' da hood, motherfucker! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood, motherfucker! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood! LA County, what's goin' on? 1993 modern day Babylon Peace to the niggas from the street And rest in peace to the others that's six feet deep Welcome to the fool, and he strikes when he's back And the snake come around, go around and get ape Top down, slipped on CO-run, they none Every ceased cracked Caine ain't no fun Black cop, white cop Fuck the colour of skin, make sure he shot Escape from a jail cell, split away from hell And all I want for Christmas is a Glock and some shells Billy Boy takes the pictures, what! What's the worry? Five-I-seven on my switch, we got out early Taddle-tails get dropped an' they get got good So get this stoob nigga for the hood Get that nigga fo' da hood, motherfucker! Get that nigga fo' da hood! Get that nigga fo' da hood, motherfucker! Get that nigga fo' da hood! Them niggas ain't playin' Them niggas ain't playin' Them niggas ain't playin' Them niggas ain't playin' (What'cha gonna do when you get out of jail?) Get that nigga fo' da hood You must remember this if you're black and you're rich One push come to shove, they'll take your shit Martin Luther King didn't wear a diamond ring But he had a dream to let freedom reign My homie Red Foxx got played like blocks Pick 'em up sticks, jacks and hop-scotch Frustration, aggravation, there's no end to the situation 'Cause niggas need a place to meet, a place to sleep A place to eat and rest they feet But nobody really even gives a fuck That's why so many niggas is maggot'd up, huh You claimin' the hood, but you don't back it up Fool! And when they catch your ass, they gonna fuck you up So when you get it goin' and you got it goin' good You better bring back somethin' fo' da hood Bring back somethin' fo' da hood, motherfucker! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood, motherfucker! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood, motherfucker! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood, motherfucker! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood! Bring back somethin' fo' da hood, motherfucker
Writer(s): Unknown Composer Author, William Salter, Ralph Macdonald Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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