Pants Hang Low

Album: Da REAList (2008)
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  • Aye, man, motherfucker just told me to pull my pants up homie (What?)
    Pull my pants up, I went up to that motherfucker
    And told him I'm from the hood and that's how shit go

    I let my pants (My Pants) Hang low (Hang low)
    I'm from the hood and this how shit go (I'm from the hood)
    I let my pants (My pants) hang low (Hang low)
    So, you better not play with my dough
    Cause if you do, 4, 4 (4, 4)
    I'm from the hood and that's how shit go
    I let my pants my pants, hang low (Hang low)
    I'm from the hood and that's how shit go

    I'm from the home of goon, city of the choppers
    You ain't 'bout that life, you ain't want no problems
    If you sweet and you know it, fuck it gone rob ya
    Want straight yappas, fuck with no revolvers
    Real street nigga, need a real good lawyer
    Last two cases, bought four charges
    In the hood, couple rules that you must follow
    If you don't then, slugs'a be in your body
    Want my paper, get my shawty
    Hustle all day, try to ride big body
    Been with three dope boys, hood call 'em garbage
    Will I still fuck'a, I don't know, yeah, probably
    Just a hood nigga with a lot of swag shawty
    Who I hang with the most, probably my 40
    Been labeled a goon, that's what the hood call me
    Stay in the hood, 'til I die homie, that's regardless

    I let my pants (My Pants) Hang low (Hang low)
    I'm from the hood and this how shit go (I'm from the hood)
    I let my pants (My pants) hang low (Hang low)
    So, you better not play with my dough
    Cause if you do, 4, 4 (4, 4)
    I'm from the hood and that's how shit go
    I let my pants my pants, hang low (Hang low)
    I'm from the hood and that's how shit go

    Say I'm too hood, might be
    Don't give a damn what you think about me
    Say I'ma goon, that's me
    Don't give a damn what you think about me, nigga

    This where you find the most snitches, and most guns
    Go four little partners right now, on the run
    Half of the city fellas supposed to have got warned
    Guns stay swole every first of the month
    If you ain't got 5, you better not stunt
    Hood cut throat, can't even front
    Bentley alright, get more attention than the donk
    No shirt, pants saggin' with big charm
    If it ain't top of the line, I don't want that blunt
    Geeked in this trap, come through the front
    Jack boys ridin', tryin' to find what they want
    Ball last night, 4 G's what I spun
    Before you fuckin' wit me, better take his lunch
    Cause, if you get behind me, then I'm goin' punch
    554's under the hood, will run
    Cause I'm from the hood, and this is how it done

    I let my pants (My Pants) Hang low (Hang low)
    I'm from the hood and this how shit go (I'm from the hood)
    I let my pants (My pants) hang low (Hang low)
    So, you better not play with my dough
    Cause if you do, 4, 4 (4, 4)
    I'm from the hood and that's how shit go
    I let my pants my pants, hang low (Hang low)
    I'm from the hood and that's how shit go

    Say I'm too hood, might be
    Don't give a damn what you think about me
    Say I'ma goon, that's me
    Don't give a damn what you think about me, nigga

    Yeah, ladies and gentlemen
    You're now listenin' to the ghetto music
    And, this being supplied to you by the realest in charge,
    Plies, and the dude freggy fresh, yeah
    Good night y'all Writer/s: ALGERNOD LANIER WASHINGTON, BYRON O. THOMAS
    Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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