(Verse 1) - Frank Knight

I never seen a shooting star a day in my life
Surrounded by ignorance from day to the night
My man said he want a baby mama not a wife
Married to the game of cocaine, lot of white
Been in the ghetto so long we finally accepting it
Young project specimens proud to be experiments
Rising through the slums with nothing but dirt clothes
Running from the heat, like we dashing on burnt coals
Hurt flows, uh.. scars on my flesh
Christened through the pain, Allah is the best
Y'all don't know issues every Sunday wet tissues
Thank God none hit you, so death missed you
You unofficial herbs of the world got some nerve
Claiming you fly just cause your girl a dumb bird
I should beat you with a sock filled with oranges
Hit your brib baring arms Goldie your porridge's

(Chorus)

Dope hood story, dope hood story
I fathered flow nigga no need Maury (4X)

(Verse 2) - Cocaine Chris

I tell em welcome to hell live by the gun and you die by the shell
You weak minded you fail Only strong prevail
Snitch niggas get hit don't live long to tell
The rich niggas just pitch fish scales and bricks
Clap toys them jack boys ready and strap
Them dope boys just stack night and day on the trap
Gunplay get clap try and run its a wrap them gunners attack BANG!!!
Leave one in your back they snap Once a week its chalk-lines and yellow-tape
Dumping Alize mourning at a nigga wake
Looking at his moms tear drops down her face
Nothing you can say so you bow your head and pray
Damn swear to God its gotta be a better way
But for now its all pain no glory
Feels like this shit is every night and every day real life and this my story

(Chorus)

(Verse 3) - Sleep

This my hood story do it for the glory
Hurry niggas talking fast a get the Gunz.....Corey.
Lordy I couldn't have said it better than other cats,
Talking shit while we politic n the laundromat,
Da homie mike say he dealing and getting money
Which is funny, rack season, we know dat it's tax season bra,
Crack bleeding through the street alcohol tears,
Terrified from nightmares clutching to old fears,
Like the boogie man slash local killer
Or a monster stealing your dreams.... Slash local dealer,
The city ain't what it seems, we glorify the hood shit,
When it's over u only recall the good shit,
I miss the days when niggas they understood shit,
Would rather fall with the principles that they stood with,
The book of us is nothing less than a good story,
Study up if u gone make it through this hood story.