Hood Tales

[Hook: D.V. Alias Khrist]
These are them hood tales
We live that you say in your rap songs
It’s real talk in the form of a single
So as the block gets thicker we move a little quicker
Away from the eyes of the Lord

[Verse 1: Kool G Rap]
From the Queens plains cats walk with big things
[?] jook your big frame
My shit bangin’, how dare you talk the kid’s name
You walk around with the gems blangin’ you insane
The hood the perfect capital, it’s murder capital
Capital punishment, money is real
When I clap on my steel make ‘em pass bills to Capitol Hill
Capital G, space nigga R-A-P
Hold it down with AR-15s, better believe, [?]
Spray y’all strip clean, make y’all shit jeans
It ain’t no faking over here
[?] ‘cause my bacon over here
And this niggas on the block like his wake is over there
Cops set up shop, taking over squares
The duke he disappears when Jakes roll near
Straight up man stock is what we hold here

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Kool G Rap]
Get duffeled, your limbs missing like World War II
Gun in your mouth, throwing in your girl [?]
You Siamese twins, six shooters, I cross two
Both dogs eat a nigga’s ass like George [?]
I pack, man, I’m Pac Man, chew a man’s crew
Gobble ‘em up, hit the club we bottlin’ up
No hoodrats, just models and up
Find a nice one to swallow ‘em up
That’s your wife, son, she gobble a nut
Back in a minute, don’t distract a menace
Tell all your cats to save the racket for the tennis
Back where I’m at again, I clap you with the fences
Gon’ play all day, put data in your census
Clique is real deal, we clickin’ real steel
No playing, we leave you laying stiffer than steel
Don’t get it twisted, long jersey can still steal
Then we [?] slug through your Caddy Deville grill

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Kool G Rap]
Nigga when my firearm is dumpin’ my arm is jumpin’
My shit disconnect limbs, kid your arm be chumpin’
And we be armed like a army bunkin’
You can get it off the arm for frontin’, probably be harmed for nothin’
The drama’s comin’, on a different note
I hit bitches with different strokes like I'm Arnold drummin’
Your armor’s nothin’, when I shoot through
Niggas better roll like the niggas from The Roots, arms is drummin’
Homie done dumb and ain’t nothing comin’
Picture that, it’s like a nun comin’
Nigga what’s done is done, you and your dun get done in
You should a gunned your gunmen instead of running your gums and
The lane tight, we bang pipes like plumbers plumbin’
Make you vegetables, onions and plums and
Oh my bad, a plum is a fruit, yeah that’s true
Well that Sup-Dup son is a fruit
I got a screw loose, matter of fact got two loose

[Hook]