Chyna Whyte - Put Yo Hood Up (Remix) lyrics

[Intro - Roy Jones Jr.] Yeah this Roy Jones Jr Pound for pound the baddest thing throwin' down The undisputed light heavyweight champion of the world We about to knock n***as heads off with this put yo hood up remix Lil' Jone and the East Side Boyz Jadakiss, Petey Pablo, Chyna Whyte Represent y'all in the hood tonight Yeah, yeah, uh uh [Hook] Put yo hood up Put yo hood up Put yo hood up Put yo hood up Put yo click up Put yo click up Put yo click up Put yo click up Represent yo sh** motherf**er Represent yo sh** motherf**er Represent yo click motherf**er Represent yo click motherf**er [Verse 1 - Jadakiss] I hold a 44 from the side angle Gunshots below the waist'll make ya thigh dangle Uh you know Kiss, all I do is puff hem all day Gettin' money in the Bluff or on MLK Since they brough gold back I bought me a gold mack To explode I leave ya back on Old National I'm in a gentlemen's club with gentlemen thugs But they call my hood pool dog cause we swimmin' in d** Get high, get drunk, and we get sh** crunk Violate you might die or just get jumped Jadakiss, Lil' Jon and them Eastside Boyz D-Block, every n***a got at least five toys Double R till they put me in the ground And I come back as a bullet, n***a put me in the pound Stop actin' like a b**h you scared What up n***as the remix, put yo hood up n***as [Hook] [Verse 2 - Petey Pablo] It's the dirty boy's home town, yeah b**h I'm on now Act any motherf**in' way I want cause sh** I'm in my own house Music - extra, extra loud Shorties - extra, extra out My flows - four mics, get The Source b**h and check it out I came to knock this ba*tard down Juic - ya bleedin' now You be it - the Petey style Why - hit the curb man I got 'em With the open mouth All I hear is oohs and awes What ya mama said, damn Petey king now Pow, I'm on they tails now Helicopter well now From Carolina to the ATL, it's hell now Ah, simmer down, simmer down Before they kick our a** out Lil' Jon thanks for the sixteen, yeah now [Hook] [Verse 3 - Chyna Whyte] Ha ha, keep the fame n***a I'm in it for the dough f** the glow, what's the sense if you ain't got cash to blow I had to shift my gears from fast to slow And get it past they time Hopin' that when I call home they dead or press the nine I bet yo hood can't f** with mine Ooh the language I speak when them people roll around And n***as just don't crack they leak And they too quick to quack they beak You hungry n***a's ribs touchin' what Now you want half my meat You know the narrow n***a I still run with the four pound metals Still lacin' the tracks with the pain of the ghetto You boys livin' a dream like the Cosbys And I'm tell ya one mo' time, no that ain't me on Foxy Don't get it twisted I got hitters that'll do you in And if the Feds come I got hitters that'll do my ten With no problem, on every song I plant my flow blossom From guns to gospel, Chyna Whyte AKA The Apostle [Verse 5 - Lil' Jon & The East Side Boyz] Bia bia - put yo click up and shout it out loud Bia bia - put yo click up and shout it out loud Bia bia - get buck in the motherf**in' crowd Bia bia - get buck in the motherf**in' crowd We run this b**h, yo click ain't sh** We run this b**h, yo click ain't sh** We run this b**h, yo click ain't sh** We run this b**h, yo click ain't sh** Say n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you n***a f** you - f** you [Hook]