Wyclef Jean, Small World - Hollyhood to Hollywood lyrics

Bling, bling! Who's that with Supercat
(Third Eye!, Third Eye)
Yes black, where all my troopers at
(Uptown!, Uptown)
Yo, let's get back to the hardcore right now
Underground Hip-Hop yo
(Sample from Patricia Carli's song Demain
Tu te maries (arrête, arrête
Ne me touche pas) )
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 drive-by'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"

Don't wear your colors here
That's cemetery gear
I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite
(But that ain't right y'all)
Don't wear your colors here
That's 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 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 when 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 on hoodies screamin' "freeze"
Get out the navigator
Godfather I I I 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 cell-y phone
So you can't phone home oh lord
Here come those criminals Maleek & 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, 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 Son 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

Don't wear your colors here
That's cemetery gear
I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite
(But that ain't right y'all)
Don't wear your colors here
(Colors) , that's 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 that's in you
Pretending you pitbull
When really your candy-ass is poodle
We wouldn't've 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 shing
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 colors wrong you must rock
Edible dons with that huh?
Damn Paul, what's that? Lemme 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

Don't wear your colors here
That's cemetery gear
I got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite
(But that ain't right y'all)
Don't wear your colors here
That's cemetery gear
(Detroit, Detroit) I got my gun and nine
(From Hollywood to your neck of the hood)

Tell the FBI that I won't be home tonight
Tell the Secret Service I
Won't be home tonight colors
Put away your colors whoa, colors