[Intro: M.O.P.]
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Hahaha... they think they rid ourselves
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We definitely got to give the drummer somethin (c'mon!)
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Slaughterhouse (c'mon!) M.O.P. (c'mon!)
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Everybody (c'mon!)
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[Joell Ortiz:]
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H-E- (what?) L-L-O, I'm one hell of a show
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I'm the best, you stuck in the middle like L-M-N-O
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I'll piss on you, let every toxic elements go
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All you pussies is fucked, call me now celibate Joe (ay!)
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Ay Slaughterhouse, let's go rock "Ed Sullivan Show"
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I literally can't front, I'm back like never befo' (oh!)
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I'm a rap my letter to hoes
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Dear prostitute, I miss y'all lettin me slap my head on your nose
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Where the fuck is my guitar? It couldn't of went far
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Oh yeah, I smashed it on homie head in that Brook-lyn bar
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Man I'm somewhere in between a crook and a star
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Had some more bars but I left my rap book in the car (yo yo yo yo yo)
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[Chorus: M.O.P.]
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Yo, this that Woodstock hood hop
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Hands up if you fuckin with it
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We reppin Brooklyn (c'mon!) Jersey (c'mon!)
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Long Beach (c'mon!) Detroit (c'mon!)
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[Crooked I:]
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Geah, spaz out, knock a nigga ass out
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Knew he had a paper thin chin and a glass mouth
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West Coast shit, seven-deuce glass house
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Got a (Lil' Fame) so me and my (Posse Mash Out) (ohh!)
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I ain't got a college degree
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Just a circle of bosses, the Slaughter's in me - pardon me G
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I just wanna fuck your daughter and flee
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And leave all that marriage shit in the background like I'm Father MC
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Ha ha, cocky, but don't be a copycat
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When you see me rockin that, L.A. Kings hockey hat
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I'm the king of L.A., do you copy that?
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It's time for some change like Obama in a laundry-mat
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[Chorus]
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[Royce Da 5'9":]
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Do y'all want problems with us? I guess not
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Broadcastin live from a Pyrex pot
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The steeets know that we nice, try your best shot
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Speech coded in ice, dialect's hot
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Everybody (c'mon!) get cool
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Beef in big shoes, gun talkin repetitive call it chipped fool
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You ain't never heard of me mami you excused
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I don't only diss dudes
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You sleepin on us, that's what it is - just understand
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That I ain't gettin a wink of sleep 'til you lookin at the back of your lids
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I'm a lyrical ounce of PIFF
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Still countin them chips, for real mami, Slaughterhouse in this {"BITCH!"}
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[Chorus]
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[Joe Budden:]
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Look, I'm not a gang-banger, more like game changer
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With tamed anger, alias lover name changer
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Liable to pop at kids and aim flamers
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I'm why your parents told you not to entertain strangers
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Dope get it, top notch, flow sickest
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Best out, don't blame me it's no spitters
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So vicious on the road to riches
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From now on call Mr. Weiss, they chasin all of your old bitches
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From the hood New Jersey and I claim this
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Oxymoron, rob with the dirty and stainless
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Cock back, high saddity so I keep the top back
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So when the streets is watchin, I could watch back
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[Chorus x2]
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-----------------
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Woodstock Hood Hop
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| Crooked I |
