Artist: Prodigal Sunn
Album:  Hood Chronicles (S)
Song:   Hood Chronicles
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Prodigal Sunn]
Yeah, Hood Chronicles, yeah, we back man
B.K., take a little vacation, man
Hard Life Vol. 1, this is the return
But I'm back, baby, P. Sunzini
Sunny Medina, know how we do it
B.K. all day, yeah, the game
S.U.N.Z., W.T.C., the good old life
That's right man, it is what it is
Check it

[Prodigal Sunn]
Some say I'm fire like the pen and a tech
While others say I'm ice like the cold of your neck, as I win with respect
Never neglect the dialect of a vet, fleeing any set
My twin Glizzy Glock Black, chemical wet
Sinister, split the words like a minister, finisher
Zini, the replinisher burn, at any temperature
Injure, moving ninja on any size contender
Get in where I fit in, rise to my agenda
Ladies I love 'em tender, soft, spicy and ginger
Apple in the back, pretty face smack in the center
I take 'em on an oil, pipe line revenger, keep 'em
Cold in the summer, plumb' 'em, right in the winter, I be
Gone til november, leave 'em, something the'll remember
A sign that represent 'em, my bloodline the winner, baby

[Interlude: Prodigal Sunn]
That's right, man, I do this for anybody, man
I do it for the hood, do it for the babies, man
I do it for all my ladies, man, it's real out here
Ain't nothing stopping me, man, this P. Sunzini
In the muthafucking place, baby
That's right, Hood Chronicles, that's what it is
You know what it is, man, Hood Chronicles
Everybody came from the hood, if you didn't, then you know what it is, though
That's right, man, that shit was creative

[Prodigal Sunn]
Yo, a young hoodie on the hustle for cash flow, fire like tabasco
Running with calicos, who let it go
We stack reser' dough, I'm breaded like Nabisco
Came from the era, of weed, cracks and Crisco
Up in your disco, flooded official
Step into Sunz sideways, I got that heat for your tissue
Damn shame, think it's a game, just a weight like trickle
Had to figure out the riddle, chopping meat out the middle
Turned a little into a lot, started from the scale on the pot
To selling them rocks, po' smell 'em, back on the block
Oh this place, my mom leaving my pops
Dishonor with cop, too many of my brothers catching shots
Caught up in the system of the plot, victims love to watch
We can shine whether you like it or not, I'm on the road, the weapon
It's Sunny, straight reppin', the number seven, equals heaven
A lethal injection, another to perfection