Woodstock (hoop Hop) Lyrics - M.o.p.

[Intro: M.O.P.] 

Hahaha... they think they rid ourselves 

We definitely got to give the drummer somethin (c'mon!) 

Slaughterhouse (c'mon!) M.O.P. (c'mon!) 

Everybody (c'mon!) 

[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 (yo yo yo yo yo) 

[Chorus: 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] 

Geah, spaz 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) (ohh!) 

I ain't got a college degree 

Just the 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 

Ha ha, cocky, but don't be a copycat 

When you see me rockin that, L.A. Kings hockey hat 

I'm the king of L.A., do you copy that? 

It's time for some change like Obama in a laundry-mat 

[Chorus] 

[Royce Da 5'9"] 

Do y'all want problems with us? I guess not 

Broadcastin live from a Pyrex pot 

The steeets know that we nice, try your best shot 

Speech coded in ice, dialect's hot 

Everybody (c'mon) get cool 

Beef in big shoes, gun talkin repetitive call it Chip-Fu 

You ain't never heard of me mami you excused 

I don't only diss dudes 

You sleepin on us, that's what it is - just understand 

that I ain't gettin a wink of sleep 'til you lookin at the back of your lids 

I'm a lyrical ounce of PIFF 

Still countin them chips, for real mami, Slaughterhouse in this {"BITCH!"} 

[Chorus] 

[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 

[Chorus - repeat 2X]