Yoooooooo!
Who's those jerks actin' all rude?
It's those little boy gangsters, dude.
Hey there little boyz in the hood,
Ain't up to nothin' good.
Out on the street just rollin' up a blunt.
Coppin' a plea.
'
Little boyz in the hood,
You're so feeling misunderstood,
Try talking English and not some tongue unknown.
Yoooooooo!
'
What's those signs you have?
You think those signs make you real bad?
Don't like those signs flashin' in my face,
You're just so hip with all your signs and cliches.
'
Ammo clips you have,
You cap a hit and think you're bad.
If you think you really own that space,
Take on the mob and soon your ass they will strafe.
'
You better keep them beepers on,
You must endure that combat zone,
You're gonna get busted if they catch you alone.
Yoooooooo!
'
Little boyz in the hood,
You're gonna fall where you once stood,
You may just think that you're bullet proof 'til you're gone.
Yoooooooo!
'
You think you're all smart and bad-you better just plead the fifth,
Little boyz in the hood,
Go to jail and get tatooed.
You'll get used to life inside, they'll jail your ass when you've been tried,
You're gonna wish that you were gay, with Bubba and Dutch invadin' your space.
'
Hey there little boyz in the hood,
Ain't up to nothin' good.
Out on the street just rollin' up a blunt.
Yoooooooo! I mean waaaaah! waah?