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Blame, blame, whose dat with you again?(The ride, the ride)Yes black, where's my jewels at?(Uptown, uptown, uptown, uptown...)Yo, let's get back to the hardcore right nowUnderground hip-hop yoThis one's a gangsta tune, whassup Fosha?I'ma send this one out to all the refugee gangs around the worldSignal, signal, y'all need to chill with the driveby'sIt was the Fourth of July I heard the cherry bomb bangStay in the house that's the sound of the gangs, ClefBy the time we figured out what happenedI was in an ambulance tellin my cousin keep breathingDon't wear your colours here, that cemetery gearI got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite (but that ain't right y'all)DON'T WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE!That cemetery gear (California, California)I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hoodTrue, true, yo Hollywood got a lot of kids twistedJumpin in and out of limo's thinkin is his ass really giftedThe only gift y'all possess is workin with the triple six'sY'all disguise yourself with bandanas and diamond necklacesSongtexteMosta y'all can't even go back to the hood where y'all grew upActin like y'all drink alcohol and all y'all do is throw upTalk about when y'all blow up y'all gonna visit the project floorsBut the last time they saw y'all was 1984Now y'all wonder, why they got all hoodies screamin "freeze"Get out the navigator, Godfather III's in the DVDThey hoppin, they take your car for a spinIt's cold outside so all you feel is the windThere's no celly phone, so you can't phone homeOh lord, here come those criminals Maleeg & Jerome("Yo, who you know here, you got family over here?")He a rap artist ("I don't care, he got the wrong colours over here, no fear")Now you look shook like that Mobb Deep songI'm surprised, cause on all y'all records you was Al CaponeAnd come to find out that you never held a chromeAnd you escaped the draft and never bust a shot in VietnamNow you standin in the form amongst the children of the cornLike the Sun of Man stood with a crown made of thornsThe only difference is for you there'll be no resurrectionCause it's a traffic jam, they got you locked up in a intersectionDon't wear your colours here, that cemetery gearI got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite (but that ain't right y'all)DON'T WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE! (Colours)That cemetery gear (Chicago, Chicago)I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hoodYo, Hollywood has half-man be hollow to youHow could you have slipped throughwhile I was detecting the trick that's in youPretending you pitbull, when really your candy-ass is poodleWe wouldn't of hit you, hammers have already beencocked and cleaned, yo, it was who?It's click-up, click-up, north cackus, commence to stick upThat's what's within us, cack and lack, clap, buck killers quickerStick up the forest misters then head up to chickens with 'emAdrenaline's givin, when I riff with the fifth to your chin-inYou never knew bout how we play these inningsBut you about to play the commissionWaves are spinning, I'm out the glaze I'm sh...ingThe real is missing but the fraud is evidentever so clear, but you got the nerd to come around here with pounds of fearYour colours wrong you must rock edible dons with that huh?Damn Paul, what's that huh?Let me get that, with the quick snatchIf it's a little man in you then I better put the trick backAnd if it's anything killers is fearing, I know my clit stacked for realerDon't wear your colours here, that cemetery gearI got my gun and nine, killing's my appetite (but that ain't right y'all)DON'T WEAR YOUR COLOURS HERE! (Colours)That cemetery gear (Detroit, Detroit)I got my gun and nine from Hollywood, to your neck of the hoodTell the FBI that I won't be home tonightTell the Secret Service I won't be home tonight Aus Songtexte Mania