Wyclef Jean

Wyclef Jean - Hollyhood To Hollywood songtekst

Je score:

Blame, blame, whose dat with you again?
 (The ride, the ride)
 Yes black, where's my jewels at?
 (Uptown, uptown, uptown, uptown...)

 (Wyclef Jean)
 Yo, let's get back to the hardcore right now
 Underground hip-hop yo (*foreign singing*)
 This one's a gangsta tune, whassup Fosha?
 I'ma send this one out to all the refugee gangs around the world
 Signal, signal, y'all need to chill with the driveby's
 It was the Fourth of July I heard the cherry bomb bang
 Stay in the house that?s the sound of the gangs, Clef
 By the time we figured out what happened
 I was in an ambulance tellin my cousin keep breathing

 (Chorus: Wyclef Jean)
 Don't wear your colours here, that cemetery gear
 I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite
 (but that ain't right y'all)
 DON'T WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE!
 That cemetery gear (California, California)
 I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hood

 (Wyclef Jean)
 True, true, yo Hollywood got a lot of kids twisted
 Jumpin in and out of limo's thinkin is his ass really gifted
 The only gift y'all possess is workin with the triple six's
 Y'all disguise yourself with bandanas and diamond necklaces
 Mosta y'all can't even go back to the hood where y'all grew up
 Actin like y'all drink alcohol and all y'all do is throw up
 Talk about when y'all blow up y'all gonna visit the project floors
 But the last time they saw y'all was 1984
 Now y'all wonder, why they got all hoodies screamin "freeze"
 Get out the navigator, Godfather III's in the DVD
 They hoppin, they take your car for a spin
 It's cold outside so all you feel is the wind
 There's no celly phone, so you can't phone home
 Oh lord, here come those criminals Maleeg & Jerome
 ("Yo, who you know here, you got family over here?")
 He a rap artist
 ("I don't care, he got the wrong colours over here, no fear")
 Now you look shook like that Mobb Deep song
 I'm surprised, cause on all y'all records you was Al Capone
 And come to find out that you never held a chrome
 And you escaped the draft and never bust a shot in Vietnam
 Now you standin in the form amongst the children of the corn
 Like the Sun of Man stood with a crown made of thorns
 The only difference is for you there'll be no resurrection
 Cause it's a traffic jam, they got you locked up in a intersection

 (Chorus: Wyclef Jean)
 Don't wear your colours here, that cemetery gear
 I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite
 (but that ain't right y'all)
 DON'T WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE! (Colours)
 That cemetery gear (Chicago, Chicago)
 I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hood

 (Small World)
 Yo, Hollywood has half-man be hollow to you
 How could you have slipped through
 while I was detecting the trick that's in you
 Pretending you pitbull, when really your candy-ass is poodle
 We wouldn't of hit you, hammers have already been
 cocked and cleaned, yo, it was who?
 It's click-up, click-up, north cackus, commence to stick up
 That's what's within us, cack and lack, clap, buck killers quicker
 Stick up the forest misters then head up to chickens with 'em
 Adrenaline's givin, when I riff with the fifth to your chin-in
 You never knew bout how we play these innings
 But you about to play the commission
 Waves are spinning, I'm out the glaze I'm sh...ing
 The real is missing but the fraud is evident
 ever so clear, but you got the nerd to come around here with pounds of fear
 Your colours wrong you must rock edible dons with that huh?
 Damn Paul, what's that huh?
 Let me get that, with the quick snatch
 If it's a little man in you then I better put the trick back
 And if it's anything killers is fearing, I know my clit stacked for realer

 (Chorus: Wyclef Jean)
 Don't wear your colours here, that cemetery gear
 I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite
 (but that ain't right y'all)
 DON'T WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE! (Colours)
 That cemetery gear (Detroit, Detroit)
 I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hood

 (Outro: Wyclef Jean)
 Tell the FBI that I won't be home tonight
 Tell the Secret Service I won't be home tonight
 Colours, put away your colours whoa, colours
Vind dit lied op:
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amazon.com

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Taal: Engels

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