Blame, blame, whose dat with you again?
(The ride, the ride)
Yes black, wheres my jewels at?
(Uptown, uptown, uptown, uptown...)
Yo, lets get back to the hardcore right now
Underground hip-hop yo (*foreign singing*)
This ones a gangsta tune, whassup Fosha?
Ima send this one out to all the refugee gangs around the world
Signal, signal, yall need to chill with the drivebys
It was the Fourth of July I heard the cherry bomb bang
Stay in the house thats the sound of the gangs, Clef
By the time we figured out what happened
I was in an ambulance tellin my cousin keep breathing
Dont wear your colours here, that cemetery gear
I got my gun and nine, killings my appetite
(but that aint right yall)
DONT WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE!
That cemetery gear (California, California)
I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hood
True, true, yo Hollywood got a lot of kids twisted
Jumpin in and out of limos thinkin is his ass really gifted
The only gift yall possess is workin with the triple sixs
Yall disguise yourself with bandanas and diamond necklaces
Mosta yall cant even go back to the hood where yall grew up
Actin like yall drink alcohol and all yall do is throw up
Talk about when yall blow up yall gonna visit the project floors
But the last time they saw yall was 1984
Now yall wonder, why they got all hoodies screamin "freeze"
Get out the navigator, Godfather IIIs in the DVD
They hoppin, they take your car for a spin
Its cold outside so all you feel is the wind
Theres no celly phone, so you cant 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 dont care, he got the wrong colours over here, no fear")
Now you look shook like that Mobb Deep song
Im surprised, cause on all yall 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 therell be no resurrection
Cause its a traffic jam, they got you locked up in a intersection
Dont wear your colours here, that cemetery gear
I got my gun and nine, killings my appetite
(but that aint right yall)
DONT WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE! (Colours)
That cemetery gear (Chicago, Chicago)
I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hood
Yo, Hollywood has half-man be hollow to you
How could you have slipped through
while I was detecting the trick thats in you
Pretending you pitbull, when really your candy-ass is poodle
We wouldnt of hit you, hammers have already been
cocked and cleaned, yo, it was who?
Its click-up, click-up, north cackus, commence to stick up
Thats whats within us, cack and lack, clap, buck killers quicker
Stick up the forest misters then head up to chickens with em
Adrenalines 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, Im out the glaze Im 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, whats that huh?
Let me get that, with the quick snatch
If its a little man in you then I better put the trick back
And if its anything killers is fearing, I know my clit stacked for realer
Dont wear your colours here, that cemetery gear
I got my gun and nine, killings my appetite
(but that aint right yall)
DONT WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE! (Colours)
That cemetery gear (Detroit, Detroit)
I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hood
Tell the FBI that I wont be home tonight
Tell the Secret Service I wont be home tonight
Colours, put away your colours whoa, colours...
|
