This is a song about "Shoot up the rival hood"

I’m picturing that body like a camera phone would

Then i will cut a bitch up an then leave them in the hood

Wale and k'naan, they don't know is there radio

Throw my hood up, it's startin to snow

When i'm low, she take me high

And shoot the fucking sky,

All i wanna know girl what yo name is, i see them other niggas they be on that lame shit

And i'm rhymin' up about all of this shit up in the 'hood 'cuz i'm a street poet,

I'll tell you true stories, how i coldly hold heat

Dougie fresh up in the hood and he's bringing me my weed

And that’s a scary thing, i try to duck em good

With so many others still stuck in the hood

This information is vital, look

Call the crib, same number same hood

I don't live in the hood

Smoke ? you know it taste good