Luyện nghe bài hát In My Neighborhood

Hey yo, Spice, what's on, man?
I see five-O over there, is that
Same muthafuckas that beat my partner down last
But I ain't trippin', I got this 187 Proof by my
finna be on, is that right? Yeah
But where you stayin' at, man, goin' on?
muthafuckin' neighborhood, man
Just tryin' to get this off the ground
This rap thing, you know? Yeah, I heard shit, man
Let them niggas know what time it is, yeah, it

I like to walk around my hood, smokin' a lot
I see some brothers in the trees, is they slingin'
Runnin' through a broken-down wooden
A nigga didn't have brains 'cause he sinse

Or sess, or whatever you wanna call it, he got the on his ass
Better haul it, fiends up the crack in the backyard
Dropped a on the ground, now he's lookin' hard
Will he keep searchin' or will he and just forget the hit?

Or pull a jack move and let the click, I'm in the cut, late night
About 12 O'clock, I see some bustin' caps in a parking lot
There go my rollin' up in a black 'Vette
but the money for the paycheck

"Another day, another up in the alleyway"
That's what the in the Bay up in Cali say
The California life, in the palm trees
Brothers be clockin' G's, KI's up in my neighborhood

In my
In my, in my, in my
In my

Funk, is a of my life
It's the sound of the Spice
Warning, check out the of a shotgun
muthafuckin' millimeter, have one or two or three or four

'Cause brother in my hood is hardcore
to the death of a cop, pop-pop-pop, see another one drop
Crazy-ass nigga off the schnapps
And now you why young niggas sling hop?

Never woulda thought I'd be a dealer of
Niggas and bangin' and breakin' necks and throats
The spot, it was poppin', but yet the fuzz ridin' my jock
Tick-tock, I watch the clock, flock

See a undercover cop raise off the
That's how it is in the game of slingin'
'Cause on the TV they make it look real
But Mr. Rogers ain't got shit on my up in the neighborhood

In my
In my, in my, in my
In my

Welcome to the ghetto, although I call it my
Some people get out, but some people stay for
I see a dopefiend yellin' a O.G.
He scratched his head and started like he knows me

I say, "What up, old man, I seen your before"
It was my homie's pops, shirt dirty, pants
He had a 40 in his hand, a little swallow
He said, "Young-ass nigga," and he threw the bottle

I down, and I had to duck real fast
Stepped two feet back, and I banked his ass
I started kickin' and my nigga's brains out
I a bitch yell "Freeze" and runnin' out the house

It was his wife, and the bitch bustin' at me
I can't believe shit, this bitch is trigger-happy
Pull out my nine, bust the bitch in the left
That's how it is in a burned-out dopefiend
And now you're I'm the nigga up to no good
If a fuck if you're Bush, you get jacked up in my neighborhood

In my
In my, in my, in my
In my