inglewood high

supa good, we 'bout to get 'em high, this time is my time, we 'bout to get 'em high, we 'bout to get 'em high, high, we 'bout to get 'em high, high, supa good in this bitch, the 'wood in this bitch, 'bout to school these niggas like only i could in this bitch, here by myself and i still got the whole hood in this bitch, claiming new stomping grounds, gon' leave my whole foot in this bitch, ankle-deep and it's painful, my handkerchief is a spangled banner, with the blood of black sons of slaves, uh, painting people's depictions, won't be no sequel, afflictions, made me the true nigga that i am today, uh, did my homework in class, walked the halls with no pass, eleventh grade, i had it made, held my balls when i laughed, my older brother sang and sir chose to ball for his pass, i chose to get perfect grades and catch fades in the grass, seven gang was the clique, it wasn't no blood or no crip, was more like fraternity ties mixed with bare knuckles and clips, my big homie saw something in me, said fuck hitting licks and pistols, your test scores gon' hit the lick with pencils, teaching credentials, i never got 'em, they said wasn't a problem, i sent that application they said, "you start tomorrow, where else, we gon' find a nigga black and fluent in spanish?, might as well use it to our advantage", i went right back to inglewood, inglewood, inglewood, inglewood, i'm from inglewood, inglewood, inglewood high, from inglewood, inglewood, inglewood, inglewood, inglewood, inglewood, inglewood high