Текстове на песни: Ace Hood. Face Good.

[Intro - Ace Hood]
Chea
Gutta
See what you have is that movement my nigga
It's Flo Rida
Ace Hood homie

[Chorus - Flo Rida]
You know my, face good while they ask me on deck
Flo Rida and Ace because the ghetto got next
My face good, my face good in the hood
My face good
Yeah
You know my, face good while they ask me on deck
Flo Rida and Ace because the ghetto got next
My face good, my face good in the hood
My face good
Yeah
From the streets, to the block, to the trap, to the hood
I never got a problem let me get you understood
My face good, my face good in the hood
My face good
Hey

[Verse 1 - Ace Hood]
Chea
1988 momma birthed a fucking G
I tell her fuck a bottle give me Hennessy to drink
The only drink allowed to put me in my deeper sleep
Wake up in the morning on the corner ain't no school for me
Nigga bought them peaches that be preaching
Serving work and trees, had a Visa card, hella stacks
And only seventeen, my face is good in the hood
I was serving beans
A real nigga they salute you when you getting green
The youngest niggas on the block toting .17s
The AR is tucked in side of my denim jeans
So show your past or get stretched like a flat screen
I'm certified and born to ride, I am the streets

[Chorus]


[Verse 2 - Ace Hood]
Chea
I'm in that butter pecan Beamer creeping through the hood
Got to keep it gutter, motherfuckers knew a nigga would
But I got a pass courtesy of me and face good
In the streets of my city, block in my damn hood
Where niggas take your life for free like a canned good
I'm certified, me and Flo Rida remain hood
Better state your presence when you stepping through a man's hood
Or you get caught up with them choppers, leave you dead holmes
Because even in the middle of the hood you got a dead zone
Red zone, fake face do your head gone
I'm from the city niggas die to pay a cell phone
It ain't right, that's life, get your bang on

[Chorus]

[Verse 3 - Ace Hood]
Chea
And I was the low key nigga posted by the front door
Young dreadlock niggas rocking them Dickies and a torch
Got a house of red band, forced to keep me on the porch
Well look, I don't give a fuck because these crackers show no remorse
Trying to serve a nigga murder but never heard of the source
They ask me where I got the weed from
Then I serve and feed some
Trying to put my finger prints all on a clean gun
A real nigga never born to be a snitch
Never knew I'd be rich
But the streets made ki's
And since legit a nigga stayed in the mix
Never snitching on a bitch
So the FEDS know shit
Payed my dues to the real, I was good with the bricks

[Chorus]