Lil Jon and the Eastside boyz - Put Your Hood Up (Ultimatum dc bootleg) | Текст песни

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• Lil Jon and the Eastside boyz
• Put Your Hood Up (Ultimatum dc bootleg)

[Verse 1 - Jadakiss]
I hold a 44 from the side angle
Gunshots below the waist'll make ya thigh dangle
Uh you know Kiss, all I do is puff hem all day
Gettin' money in the Bluff or on MLK
Since they brough gold back
I bought me a gold mack
To explode I leave ya back on Old National
I'm in a gentlemen's club with gentlemen thugs
But they call my hood pool dog cause we swimmin' in drugs
Get high, get drunk, and we get shit crunk
Violate you might die or just get jumped
Jadakiss, Lil' Jon and them Eastside Boyz
D-Block, every nigga got at least five toys
Double R till they put me in the ground
And I come back as a bullet, nigga put me in the pound
Stop actin' like a bitch you scared
What up niggas the remix, put yo hood up niggas

[Verse 2 - Petey Pablo]
It's the dirty boy's home town, yeah bitch I'm on now
Act any motherfuckin' way I want cause shit I'm in my own house
Music - extra, extra loud
Shorties - extra, extra out
My flows - four mics, get The Source bitch and check it out
I came to knock this bastard down
Juic - ya bleedin' now
You be it - the Petey style
Why - hit the curb man I got 'em
With the open mouth
All I hear is oohs and awes
What ya mama said, damn Petey king now
Pow, I'm on they tails now
Helicopter well now
From Carolina to the ATL, it's hell now
Ah, simmer down, simmer down
Before they kick our ass out
Lil' Jon thanks for the sixteen, yeah now

[Verse 3 - Chyna Whyte]
Ha ha, keep the fame nigga I'm in it for the dough
Fuck the glow, what's the sense if you ain't got cash to blow
I had to shift my gears from fast to slow
And get it past they time
Hopin' that when I call home they dead or press the nine
I bet yo hood can't fuck with mine
Ooh the language I speak when them people roll around
And niggas just don't crack they leak
And they too quick to quack they beak
You hungry nigga's ribs touchin' what
Now you want half my meat
You know the narrow
Nigga I still run with the four pound metals
Still lacin' the tracks with the pain of the ghetto
You boys livin' a dream like the Cosbys
And I'm tell ya one mo' time, no that ain't me on Foxy
Don't get it twisted I got hitters that'll do you in
And if the Feds come I got hitters that'll do my ten
With no problem, on every song I plant my flow blossom
From guns to gospel, Chyna Whyte AKA The Apostle