HOLLYHOOD TO HOLLYWOOD

One, two, what's Fusha? I'ma send this one out to all the Refugee gangs around the world Signal signal yaw'll need to chill wit the drive bys It was the fourth of July, I heard the cherry boom-bang Stay in the house, that's the sound of the gangs Clef By the time we figured out what happed I was in an ambulance tellin my cousin“keep breathin” Don't wear your colors here (yeah) that's cemetery gear (uh huh) I've got my gun and knife (what) killin's my appetite (But that ain't right yaw'll) Don't wear your colors here (uh) that's cemetery gear (yeah) I've got my gun and knife from Hollywood (true) to ya neck of the woods Yo, Hollywood got a lotta kids twisted Jumpin in and out of limos, thinkin it's them that's really gifted The only gift that yaw'll posses is workin wit the triple sixes Yaw'll disguise yaw'lselves wit bandanas and diamond necklaces Most of yaw'll can't go back to the hood where yaw'll grew up Actin like yaw'll drink alcohol when all yaw'll do is throw up Talkin bout when yaw'll blow up, yaw'll gone visit the project floors But the last time they saw yaw'll was 1984 Now yaw'll wonderin why they got on hoodies, screamin“freeze” Get out the navigator, Godfather III is in the DVD They hop in, they take your car for a spin It's cold outside, so all you feel is the wind There's no celli phone, so you can't phone home On lord, here come those criminals Malik and Jerome Yo,“who you know here? ”“you got family over here? ” He a rap artist,“I don't care, he got the wrong colors over here” (warfare) now you look shook like that Mobb Deep song I'm surprised cause on all of your records you was Al Capone 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 a farm amongst the children of the corn Like the son of man stood wit 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 the intersection Don't wear your colors here (yeah) that's cemetery gear (uh huh) I've got my gun and knife (what) killin's my appetite (But that ain't right yaw'll) Don't wear your colors here (uh) that's cemetery gear (yeah) I've got my gun and knife from Hollywood (true) to ya neck of the woods Yo, Hollywood ass, halfman, we hollow hip you How could you have slipped thru Without us detectin that bitch that's in you Pretendin you pitbull When nigga, yo candy ass is shitfull We willin to hit you, hammers already been cocked to clean ya whistle It's click up click up North cack is commenced to stick up That's what's within us Cacilack clap up niggas quicker Stick up the fraudest niggas, then hit up the bitches wit'em Adrenaline's given when I riff wit the fifth to ya chinin You never knew bout how we play these innins But you bout to pay the commission, waves is spinnin I'm bout to glaze them shits in The real is missin but the fraud is evident, ever so clear But you got the nerve to come round here wit pounds of fear Yo colors's wrong, you must rock edible thongs wit flat (huh) Damn par, what's that? (huh) Let me get that wit the quick snatch If it's a little man in you, then I better put the bitch back And if it's a anything niggas is fearin, I know my click's that nigga Don't wear your colors here (yeah) that's cemetery gear (uh huh) I've got my gun and knife (what) killin's my appetite (But that ain't right yaw'll) Don't wear your colors here (uh) that's cemetery gear (yeah) I've got my gun and knife from Hollywood (true) to ya neck of the woods