Neighborhood lyrics

𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦
𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘞𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵
𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘷𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺


[Verse 1]
MC Hammer, too legit to quit
I pull up with a stick
Got my stepper with me
Drop a b*tch with the flick of a wrist
I’m on my sh*t
Money in my pocket, and your b*tch on my di*k
She say you scary, and you broke, and you be flexin like you rich
You ain’t gang, you don’t let your nuts hang, nobody know your name
You want some fame? Bullets gon make the news when n*ggas bust your brain
What you heard? n*gga we gon swerve, once I get the word
Your lil b*tch been tryna eat the di*k I swear this hoe a bird
In my neighborhood, ain’t no Mr. Rodgers, just choppers
And these n*ggas act like Tupac off of juice ‘cause they too grimеy
And these b*tches, thеy gon’ f*ck for a few dollars if you got it
Stop that cappin, you ain’t active, you just act like you be slidin


[Chorus]
In my neighborhood, ain’t no Mr. Rodgers, just choppers
So let me know you got a problem
Let me take you to my neighborhood
A bunch of young n*ggas with bodies
I punch you out then get it poppin
Yeah, took ‘em to my neighborhood
It ain’t no Mr. Rodgers, young n*ggas with choppers
n*gga, welcome to my neighborhood
n*ggas get whacked like a piñata, so do we have a problem?

[Bridge]
Have my neighborhood (do we have a)
In my neighborhood (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Welcome to my neighborhood (yeah, yeah, yeah)
n*gga welcome to my neighborhood (hmm)
Still playin


[Verse 2]
Think this sh*t a game?
n*ggas caught you slippin, hit you with iron
You hopped on the ground, laughin’, talkin’ ‘bout you still alive
Think I missed my turn? We gon’ spin your block like one more time
Half a dufflebag on these n*ggas, like lets go put it on they mind
Had to take yo b*tch to eat, I could’ve f*cked if she was fine
She gave me the info, I know where you be at certain times
With this stick up cold, don’t know how to ski but b*tch I slide
Youngins get them poles, think I got a fish up on my line
I put away my drum, f*ck around and get hit with sixty-five
b*tch I’m goin’ dumb, ask me I think three plus sixty is five
Nah for real, b*tch I got a sheet of Grove steppers
Hollywood steppers, We HollyGro together
I’m sellin’ classic pot pies, can’t leave without the pepper
My shirt off in this b*tch, I’m booted up like It’s whatever

[Outro]
It’s whatever
Keep that, we got that “It’s whatever?”
At the end?