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