Hollyhood To Hollywood Lyrics - Singles - Wyclef Jean

(Small World) 

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 

(french singer) 

Elle a toutes les qualités, mon grand défaut c'est de t'aimer... 

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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 

(french singer) 

arrête, arrête ne me touche pas!... 

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 

Photos 

(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...