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ScHoolboy Q - Hoover Street

ScHoolboy Q - Hoover Street Lyrics and Youtube Music Videos

Album: Oxymoron
Released: 2014

Hoover Street Lyrics

I got that work, fuck Labor Day, just bought a gun
Fuck punching in, throwing rocks, no hopscotch
Bet my 9 milli hit the right spot
Bang, last night it was a dream
This morning a fantasy
Back when the only fan I had was a fiend
Meet me by the Acura cause the cops like
To get help from the store camera, they always in my cornea
But it's cool I've been catching on to they formula
See I'm a real loc, my street sign I'll kill fo'
Then rewind my Indo, then unroll my rillo
The bad guy never once been a hoes hero
He get zero, I said nada
Bitch pass the cama (Uh, yeah)
How'd it feel to be a real nigga? (I'm a product of a real nigga)
La-la familia (Get confronted by a real nigga)
Fuck with one of my real niggas
(It's on like night fall, summertime gotta ball)
How'd it feel to be a real nigga?
(It's on like night fall, summertime gotta ball)
How'd it feel to be a real nigga (My whole life I've been a real nigga)
La-la familia (Get confronted by a real nigga)
Fuck with one of my real niggas
(It's on like night fall, summertime gotta ball)
How'd it feel to be a real nigga?

I done jumped off my ass
Hit the lick and barely pass but I quickly got to balling
2012 ain't really happen
So I guess it's back to trapping, eyes open night to morning
Had roaches in my cereal
My uncle stole my stereo, my grandma can't control him

But, every last one of us had a pistol in the room, nigga
But, click-clack, pow-pow-pow (Boom, nigga)
But, meet Glock clock familia (Boom)

Find a nigga realer than me, my socks stink
Eat so much pussy that my mustache pink
Strapping, my pants seam, no need for a belt
Gangsta lean help, hoodie on backwards with the eyes cut out
My hate felt, my .45 elder, poetry's deep
I never fail ya, Schoolboy bust flame
Orange-yellow, higher than Margiela's
Since a young nigga I admired the crack sellers, seen my uncle steal
From his mother, now that's the money that I'm talking 'bout
Think about it, the smoker ain't got shit and everyday he still get a hit
Whether jacking radio's or sucking dick
Sell his kids and chop his wrists and sealing his lips
'Cause he don't want the feds arresting his fix, didn't take much
To get me convinced, coincidence that I ain't fucking with work
Unless we rewind and answer my church
Times getting harder than my dick on a growth spurt
Around the same time all you niggas was on purp
My sober ass was snatching her purse, make the ice cream truck freeze
Give me the keys, extra Frito's, chili and cheese
Thew some Baby Lucas in his eyes before I leave
The cops'll never get the leak, grandma taught me well
And my uncle gun was the accessories, 211 sipping plus a robbery
This little Piggy went to market, this little Piggy carry chrome

I done jumped off my ass
Hit the lick and barely pass but I quickly got to balling
2012 ain't really happen
So I guess it's back to trapping, eyes open night to morning
Had roaches in my cereal
My uncle stole my stereo, my grandma can't control him

But, every last one of us had a pistol in the room, nigga
But, click-clack, pow-pow-pow (Boom, nigga)
But, meet Glock clock familia (Boom)

Grandma said she loved me, I told her I loved her more
She always got me things that we couldn't afford
The new J's and Tommy Hill in my drawers
Sega Genesis, Nintendo 64, see Golden Eye was away at war
We wasn't thinking of getting money then
Nor did I wonder why my uncle done sold his Benz
'Cause he been tripping now, he sweats a lot and slimming down
I also notice moms be locking doors when he around
But anyways, his wife done left him and now he living with us
My bike is missing, grandma light a hotter chick every month
My uncle's nuts, he used to give me Whisky to piss in cups
Knocking on the door telling me to hurry up, he in a rush
I gave it to him then got my ass whipped for doing it
Moms used to tell me like "Nigga, know who you dealing with"
Them was the good days 'til I was raised the older ways
Rat-Tone my niggas' brother showed me my first K
I was amazed, me and Floyd was in the back, he called us over like "Hey"
Yak, yak, yak, yak! We like "Damn, nigga"
Then again, yak, yak! We like "Damn, nigga"
Hearing him say 'cause turned us to a fan, nigga
Later on he got locked so know we're taking his fades
Continue the chapter from his life, we flipping that page
Gangbanging was a ritual and grandma would help
She should've never left her gun on the shelf
This little Piggy went to market, this little Piggy carry chrome

I done jumped off my ass
Hit the lick and barely pass but I quickly got to balling
2012 ain't really happen
So I guess it's back to trapping, eyes open night to morning
Had roaches in my cereal
My uncle stole my stereo, my grandma can't control him

But, every last one of us had a pistol in the room, nigga
But, click-clack, pow-pow-pow (Boom, nigga)
But, meet Glock clock familia (Boom)

Writer/s: SPEARS, MARK ANTHONY / HANLEY, QUINCEY
Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

Hoover Street

This song finds Q detailing his loss of innocence growing up on Hoover Street. He spits rhymes about his grandma's gifts of Jordan shoes, Tommy Hilfiger underwear and video games, but also recounts his uncle stealing money out of his mom's purse and how he helped him cheat on a drug test.

Q also chronicles the negativity he was forced into upon joining the 52 Hoover Crips at the age of 12 when "every last one of us had a pistol in the room." As he recounted on "Gangsta," it was his grandma who showed him his first gun.

The Crips were founded in 1969 by Raymond Washington and Stanley Williams after they decided to unite their local gang members from the west and east sides of South Central Los Angeles in order to battle neighboring street gangs. Their sign, Cs formed with the thumb and forefinger of both hands, has become well known and today they are one of the largest and most violent associations of street gangs in the United States, with over 30,000 members.