Hallway Productionz – Hood Mentality lyrics

[Intro: Keith David]
The hood mentality is a crippling disease that attacks your nervous system
It makes you nervous of the system
Gangsters and hood rats are especially susceptible to this grown-stunting mentality
The hood is where I’m from, but it’s not what I am
The hood is where I’m from, but it’s not what I am

[Verse 1: Ice Cube]
f** school n***a, I’mma be a dope dealer
I’mma be a k**er, yep a urban guerrilla
I’mma stack scrilla, yeah buy me a villa
Sell a 5-0 to my auntie Priscilla
I don’t give a f** that she look like “Thriller”
Hit that sh** one more time and f** around and k** her
Cause I got the heart of a Pittsburgh Steeler
Black n***a draped in gold, with a nine milla
Love money, love jail, love that penitentiary mail
Love the way these n***as smell, keep coming back, can’t you tell?
Love to see my mama cry, love to see my babies struggle
Love to see my woman juggle nuts cause she got to hustle
I don’t give a f** how my life go
Now I’m a slave man to this caveman without Geico
Everybody wanna call Michael a psycho
But he ain’t never came through the hood with a rifle
Gunning n***as down cause they don’t got the right clothes
Hit the wrong person cause we shoot just like hoes
First I was blood thirsty, Mister Mister Controversy
Now I wanna beg for mercy, should have took my a** to Berkeley

If you don’t wanna shake that hood mentality
How the f** we supposed to change our reality?
(Repeat x4)

[Verse 2: Ice Cube]
f** school n***a, if I grow a little taller
Everybody tell me I’m gon’ do it, I’m gon’ be a baller

So f** that thinking, f** that thinking
f** them Lincolns, I want Franklins
Come back through here with my crew, I’m gon’ have my own shoe
I’m gon’ be that little fool coming in your living room
Starting point guard n***a, fresh out of middle school
Either it’s the NBA or it’s the NFL
I don’t know what else I can do to keep my a** up out of jail
I wanna be like Tiger Woods, swing that club, make you sick
(I wanna be like Pacman Jones), (I wanna be like Michael Vick)
I wanna be like Barry Bonds, (I wanna be like O.J. Simpson)
Leave this field, leave this prison
Tell you motherf**ers where to kiss ’em
I wanna be all broke up, moving all old and slow
I wanna be a alcoholic just like Broadway Joe
I wanna be a sideshow, kinda like Iron Mike
Used to have a few Bentleys, now I just ride a bike


[Verse 3: Ice Cube]
f** school n***a, they ain’t trying to educate me
All they give a f** is what I memorized lately
I’m gon’ have to teach myself, clock that money, get that wealth
I wanna be like Santa Claus, I don’t wanna be no f**ing elf
No kid left behind but he get the runaround
Can’t you motherf**ers see that they trying to dumb us down?
Don’t trust the government, President is for sale
He don’t give a f** about a n***a, just a oil well
Sell crack, go to jail, bust a rap, go to hell
Do I got to sell my soul if I wanna go to Yale?
Go kiss Oprah’s a** if you wanna be Gail
I’d rather have my a** kissed up in Bloomingdale
You can go be a pimp, you can go be a ho
But you only gon’ get paid off what you know
If you don’t know sh**, then you can’t work for me
Cause you read your first book in the penitentiary


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