H.O.O.D - Masta Ace

Yea, goin’out to the H double

That’s for you, you, and you

They got broke people, poor people, my people, your people

(Wherever I go) Listen

And they won’t change, ever change, can’t change, don’t change

(And everyone knows)

As I travel through various towns and strange places

I see the same scowls and frowns on the same faces

The game races and cats try to catch it Before they know it they know death on a first name basis

Whether it’s slangin’or banging, drinking or smokin'

There’s bound to be one cat thinkin’of loccin'

The hood’s like a sitcom

Leave ya bike outside, come back outside, I guarantee your shit gone

Young cats be sellin’the rock

Money busting out they sock mama tellin’them stop

But desperate times call for desperate means

It all seems so simple when you’re just a teen

Only take one bad apple to poison the good

This for the girls on the block, the boys in the hood

And wherever I go it’s the same as home

It’s the H double O D the name is known

They got broke people, poor people, my people, your people

(Wherever I go) Listen

And they won’t change, ever change, can’t change, don’t change

(And everyone knows) Listen

They got broke people, poor people, my people, your people

(Wherever I go) Listen

And they won’t change, ever change, can’t change, don’t change

(And everyone knows)

They got wild and rough blocks where it’s hard to trust cops

Get shot on your way to school at the bus stop, damn

That kid was a fine scholar

Hear his mama whine and holler he died for nine dollars

Young mothers trying to learn the ropes

And them one dollar lotto games turn their hopes

They keep hoping that they number coming

They dreamin’about getting rich driving in they hummer dummin'

Old ladies keep they purse in the front

Cuz them fiends on the prowl it’s the first of the month

And you still feel good when you there, yup

And you know you in the hood when you there

They got one in every spot on the planet

And if you wasn’t raised there you prolly can not stand it Some call it the hood I’m calling it home

And there’s love feel it all in my poem… what they got?

H dot O dot O dot D Should I turn my back on the hood?

No not me Whether P.R., D.R., or the West Indies

Or fifty other spots that are just like these

Chicago know what I mean, Philly as well

Shit I hear nowadays sounds silly as hell

Whether in Miami or in Houston, Texas

Where some so broke they’re not used to breakfast

Oakland know what I mean, L.A. too

D.C. feel me, I can tell they do When will it change?

Never I know

And I see the same things wherever I go They got broke people, poor people, my people, your people