Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Wu-Tang Clan
Performer
RZA
Mixed Artist
Masta Killa
Performer
Inspectah Deck
Performer
Street Life
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Patrick Charles
Composer
Elgin Turner
Composer
Jason Hunter
Composer
Robert Diggs
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
RZA
Producer
Steve Thompson
Mixing Engineer
John Goodmanson
Mixing Engineer
Caleb Shreve
Recording Engineer
Jose "Choco" Reynoso
Recording Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
What the fuck y'all **** thought, huh, what you thinkin', bitch?
Are you stupid, son? Must be stupid kid
What the fuck is wrong? It's the Wu, bitch
Ain't got a clue, bitch, tie your shoe, bitch
Get the fuck back 'fore we break a ****, listen
Tryna tell y'all ****, give you a fair warning
Just a chance to live so you can see your kids
Yo son, nah, before I split your wig
I'd rather feed you this, but you ain't wanna eat it
So now you got to feel it
[Verse 2]
Y'all **** better rock y'all hoodies
Take money, snatch jewelry in the hood
You find the best woman lookin' good
Diamond, she need polishin'
In my hood, all the gunshot legal
At the same time, we gotta stop killin' our people
Keep it in the hood, **** walk with they gun
Keep it in the hood, that's where we come from
I rep Brooklyn, home of the gangsta
I know a few murderer, drug dealer
[Verse 3]
In the hood, we speak mathematics and build
What's the total weight of the brain? Allah real
Slang jacks, hold gats, in the hood, eighty proof
Get my dick sucked on the rood of the projects
Dice game in the park, blunt sessions after dark
Movin' with the Wesson
Welcome to the god, we build and drop a lesson
Pussy hole testin', in the hood
Got the word from the hoodrat, shorty on the wood
[Verse 4]
Murder, bad boy, you block off
Murder, rude boy, you pop off
Murder, .9 millimeter, me say
Murder, no time for talk, wanna
Murder, men and dem all talk 'bout the
Murder, Masta Killa come calm with
Me say murder
[Verse 5]
Ay yo, we boys in the hood, big bad wolves in the woods
It ain't all good, pass the goods
Deep in the project halls, waitin' to shine
Walk with the nine and talk with gang signs, in the hood
**** put twenties on hoopties
Four heads, one forty ounce, and a loosie
And keep dough on the flip, a hoe on the strip
And roll dick, throw on the flip
Weed clouds thick enough to block the sun
Cops come, but thugs never drop the gun, understood?
Far from your Hollywood
From day one, I vowed I would keep it in the hood
From project chicks with hips and slim waists
From five dollar plates, apartment six-eighths
OG, I spit G to the young ones
I keep it in the hood, that's where I come from
[Verse 6]
Murder, bad boy, you block off
Murder, rude boy, you pop off
Murder, nine millimeter, me say
Murder, no time for talk, wanna
Murder, men and dem all talk 'bout the
Murder, Masta Killa come calm with
Me say murder
[Verse 7]
This is the place where thugs is born
In the hood, blink too long, your life is gone
In the hood, convicts still live with they moms
And they whole family tree is tattooed on they arm
In the hood, crack fiends'll furnish a 'Llac
In the hood, African's be drivin' cabs
In the hood, in the streets, the ghetto is hot
And the illest gangsters on the blocks with cops
In the hood, the ones you love'll fill you with slugs
In the hood, babies born addicted to drugs
In the hood, we make life or death decisions
And the school system is like a minimal prison
So you can't knock the hustle for the life that I'm livin'
In the hood, it ain't all good, repent or you sinnin'
[Verse 8]
Murder, bad boy, you block off
Murder, rude boy, you pop off
Murder, nine millimeter, me say
Murder, no time for talk, wanna
Murder, men and dem all talk 'bout the
Murder, Masta Killa come calm with
Me say murder, rude boy, you pop off
Murder, no time for talk, wanna
Murder, we'll find the cop and we'll
Murder, rude boy, you pop off
Murder, me and dem all talk 'bout the
Murder, you callin', who's talkin'?
Murder, me and dem all talk 'bout the
Murder, Masta Killa come calm with
Written by: Elgin Turner, Jason Hunter, Patrick Charles, Robert Diggs
