Crooked I feat. Slaughterhouse & M.O.P. Woodstock Hood Hop Lyrics

Mr. Pig Face Weapon Waist Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 The Skitzo (intro)
  • 2 Mr. Pigface
  • 3 U Shoulda Made a Phone Call
  • 4 One More Time
  • 5 Guess Who's Back?
  • 6 Freestyle Cypher
  • 7 Woodstock Hood Hop
  • [Joell Ortiz]
    H-E- (what?)
    L-L-O, i’m one hell of a show
    I’m the best, you stuck in the middle like l-m-n-o
    I’ll piss on you, let every toxic elements go
    All you pussies is fucked, call me now celibate Joe (ay!)
    Ay Slaughterhouse, let’s go rock Ed Sullivan Show
    I literally can’t front, I’m back like never befo’ (oh!)
    I’ma rap my letter to hoes
    Dear prostitute, I miss y’all lettin’ me slap my head on your nose
    Where the fuck is my guitar? It couldn’t of went far
    Oh yeah, I smashed it on homie head in that Brook-lyn bar
    Man I’m somewhere in between a crook and a star
    Had some more bars but I left my rap book in the car

    [Hook: M.O.P.]
    Yo, this that Woodstock hood hop
    Hands up if you fuckin with it
    We reppin Brooklyn (c'mon!) Jersey (c'mon!)
    Long Beach (c'mon!) Detroit (c'mon!)

    [Crooked I]
    Spazz out, knock a nigga ass out
    Knew he had a paper thin chin and a glass mouth
    West Coast Shit, Seven-Deuce glass house
    Got a Lil' Fame so me and my Posse Mash Out
    I ain't got a college degree, just a Circle of Bosses
    The Slaughter's in me, pardon me G
    I just wanna fuck your daughter and flee
    And leave all that married shit in the background like I'm Father MC
    Cocky but don't be a copy cat
    When you see me rocking that
    LA Kings hockey hat
    I'm the king of LA, Do you copy that?
    Time for some change like Obama in a Laundromat


    [Royce Da 59]
    Do yall want problems with us? I guess not
    Broadcasting live from a Pyrex Pot
    The streets know that we nice, try your best shot
    Speech coated in ice, dialects hot
    Everybody (Cmon), get cool, these some big shoes
    Gun talking repetitive, call it Chip-Fu
    You ain't never heard of me, mami? You excused
    I dont only diss dudes
    You sleeping on us? Thats what it is
    Just understand that I ain't getting no winter sleep til you looking at the back of your lids
    Im a lyrical ounce of piff
    Still counting those chips
    For real mami, Slaughterhouse in this


    [Joe Budden]
    Look, I’m not a gang-banger, more like game changer
    With tamed anger, alias lover name changer
    Liable to pop at kids and aim flamers
    I’m why your parents told you not to entertain strangers
    Dope get it, top notch, flow sickest
    Best out, don’t blame me it’s no spitters
    So vicious on the road to riches
    From now on call me Mr. weiss, they chasin all of your old bitches
    From the hood new jersey and I claim this
    Oxymoron, rob with the dirty and stainless
    Cock back, high saddity so I keep the top back
    So when the streets is watchin, I could watch back


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