(feat. Jadakiss, Petey Pablo, Chyna Whyte, Roy Jones Jr.) [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 niggas 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 shit motherfucker Represent yo shit motherfucker Represent yo click motherfucker Represent yo click motherfucker [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 drugs Get high, get drunk, and we get shit crunk Violate you might die or just get jumped Jadakiss, Lil' Jon and them Eastside Boyz D-Block, every nigga got at least five toys Double R till they put me in the ground And I come back as a bullet, nigga put me in the pound Stop actin' like a bitch you scared What up niggas the remix, put yo hood up niggas [Hook] [Verse 2: Petey Pablo] It's the dirty boy's home town, yeah bitch I'm on now Act any motherfuckin' way I want cause shit I'm in my own house Music - extra, extra loud Shorties - extra, extra out My flows - four mics, get The Source bitch and check it out I came to knock this bastard 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 ass out Lil' Jon thanks for the sixteen, yeah now [Hook] [Verse 3: Chyna Whyte] Ha ha, keep the fame nigga I'm in it for the dough Fuck 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 fuck with mine Ooh the language I speak when them people roll around And niggas just don't crack they leak And they too quick to quack they beak You hungry nigga's ribs touchin' what Now you want half my meat You know the narrow Nigga 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 motherfuckin' crowd Bia bia - get buck in the motherfuckin' crowd We run this bitch, yo click ain't shit We run this bitch, yo click ain't shit We run this bitch, yo click ain't shit We run this bitch, yo click ain't shit Say nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you Nigga fuck you - fuck you [Hook]
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