GOTA

In my hood, they don't want you if you're a loser (hey!)
You're the old lady who never throws the ball back
I got home and they welcomed me with a broken soul
In my hood, if they like you, bro, they really like you
The kids barefoot, the mud from downtown (oh)
And they share a pair of flip-flops between two
The cop in boots like a cat in boots
Searching in the stash for something for his big nose (oh, oh)
They used to call me a kid: You always stand out (oh)
And now they say: Tony, why don't you give us a show?
More than a thousand losses and you can't even tell (zero)
I make them sit down and take notes (oh)
Thieves pop up, the drones that float
Flying through my yard and they're not seagulls
The bus, the little gem, terracotta red
And the alarm button at a remote stop
A kid who dropped out of school
And another kid, a soccer player, leaves the club, the fees are too high
In the hood, it's tough, the back gets tired
But if you're real, they keep track of you at the store
Here, they're tough, the girls keep it real
If it doesn't fit in the clothes, they shorten the pipe
Yeah, if fists start flying, they team up
And if a cop car shows up, they behave

And I who came out of here, drip drops one by one
And I who came out of here, learned to keep it short
And that's why we do trap, we are trap, no other way
My family is trap and my hood is trap
And I who came out of here, drip drops one by one
And I who came out of here, learned to keep it short
And that's why we do trap, we are trap, no other way
My family is trap and my hood is trap, trap

Tony
Ivo, ay, yah-ah-ah
Tony
Yeah, yeah, hood
Real in the westside
Culture