[Sick Jacken] Ghetto Music, baby [Chino XL] King Tech, you're a beast [Sick Jacken] Chino XL [Chino XL] Yo [Sick Jacken] El Pecador (Yeah) Pitbull (Yo, come on) Yeah
Pre-Verse: Sick Jacken Latinos stand up Morenos stand up Act like you gettin' rob, then throw your hands up Mira We are the ghetto music Latin lingo beat killers We get it poppin' in the streets, so I know you feel us
[Verse 1: Chino XL] Be afraid Be very afraid Chino rippin' over this remix that Timbaland made (What) XL, Pitbull, Sinful, wildin' All y'all hear is POP, like the Black Eyed Peas album I'm 'bout to run rap soon By bringin' Drama like 50 and Game is in the same room In My Hood Police see yo, we no hablamo We push so much white They call us albinos My street advantage is (What is it?) I got more guns Than the Puerto Rican Day parade got baby carriages Street savages, you can't stop or hold me Nothin' gets by me in the game like a soccer goalie I gotta lay behind me, fold more paper than origami Chino keep the finest mamis, tryin' to get pregnant by me When grippin' the mini-shotty, I'm finishin' anybody The minister tried to stop me, now Jay-Z is tryin' to sign me Tu sabes As a kid was past rude Rob McDonalds with the quickness That's why they call it fast food (Ha!) Bad news Chino not keeping 'em poppers Like Mexican gangsters, removin' they tattoos
Chorus: Sick Jacken Latinos stand up Morenos stand up Act like you gettin' rob, then throw your hands up Mira We are the ghetto music Latin lingo beat killers We get it poppin' in the streets, so I know you feel us We stand up My people stand up Act like you gettin' rob, then throw your hands up Baby You can catch us in the hood, daily Stackin' money, tryin' to make it out alive cause it's too crazy
[Verse 2: Sinful] Porque haste ahora, se soprenden y otros se ofenden Porque haste ahora, me cienten si he estado aqui por siempre Atrapado en una calle con ciego y inconciente Ahora, los sonadores platica fue por suerte Doze anos en el juego y no es suficiente Por favor, miren, mocosos, ya mejor, despierten Yo se que me encanta el ambiente sigo indigente En el mismo lugar, de siempre, con la misma gente Puedes trayer tu arsenal, pero no te combiene Un corazon artificial, como se defienden Tu vieja te detiene, se te pone por enfrente Y tu no sales, tu te escondes como una serpiente Es como mesclar tequila con un baso de leche Una movida falsa y tu systema no sostiene Y por aqui sigue tronando esas cosas calientes Conosco a franco tiradores que no usan lentes
Repeat Chorus Twice
[Verse 3: Pitbull] Now when them boys get to poppin', you'll get, get, down When them choppers spit Spit Sp-spit, spit, rounds Round of town, upstate, so shake So shake it down Get them boys, get them thangs, but break But break 'em down From the bottom of the panhandle, where birds get manhandled From the pot To the block Where they hand-to-hand you Cook that white with Sprite, that's if we wanna scam you Pitbull, Rich Boy, we got plans too Don't pull out Unless, of course, you spit boy Squeeze out To the bottom of that clip, boy Just to reassure your ass got hit, boy Make thirty-six shows to a 360, that's a flip, boy It's a bird It's a plane, no, that's a brick, boy I got a lick, grab them thangs, let's get Rich, Boy Pitbull chillin' Rich Boy chillin' What more can I say, let's get millions
Hook: Rich Boy Now when them boys get to poppin' Get, get, down Get, get, get-get, get down Get, get, get-get, get Get, get, get-get
Other lyrics by (rich Boy F/) Sick Jacken (psycho Realm), Chino Xl, Sinful (tha Mexakinz), Pitbull
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Copy to Clipboard: [Sick Jacken] Ghetto Music, baby [Chino XL] King Tech, you're a beast [Sick Jacken] Chino XL [Chino XL] Yo [Sick Jacken] El Pecador (Yeah) Pitbull (Yo, come on) Yeah
Pre-Verse: Sick Jacken Latinos stand up Morenos stand up Act like you gettin' rob, then throw your hands up Mira We are the ghetto music Latin lingo beat killers We get it poppin' in the streets, so I know you feel us
[Verse 1: Chino XL] Be afraid Be very afraid Chino rippin' over this remix that Timbaland made (What) XL, Pitbull, Sinful, wildin' All y'all hear is POP, like the Black Eyed Peas album I'm 'bout to run rap soon By bringin' Drama like 50 and Game is in the same room In My Hood Police see yo, we no hablamo We push so much white They call us albinos My street advantage is (What is it?) I got more guns Than the Puerto Rican Day parade got baby carriages Street savages, you can't stop or hold me Nothin' gets by me in the game like a soccer goalie I gotta lay behind me, fold more paper than origami Chino keep the finest mamis, tryin' to get pregnant by me When grippin' the mini-shotty, I'm finishin' anybody The minister tried to stop me, now Jay-Z is tryin' to sign me Tu sabes As a kid was past rude Rob McDonalds with the quickness That's why they call it fast food (Ha!) Bad news Chino not keeping 'em poppers Like Mexican gangsters, removin' they tattoos
Chorus: Sick Jacken Latinos stand up Morenos stand up Act like you gettin' rob, then throw your hands up Mira We are the ghetto music Latin lingo beat killers We get it poppin' in the streets, so I know you feel us We stand up My people stand up Act like you gettin' rob, then throw your hands up Baby You can catch us in the hood, daily Stackin' money, tryin' to make it out alive cause it's too crazy
[Verse 2: Sinful] Porque haste ahora, se soprenden y otros se ofenden Porque haste ahora, me cienten si he estado aqui por siempre Atrapado en una calle con ciego y inconciente Ahora, los sonadores platica fue por suerte Doze anos en el juego y no es suficiente Por favor, miren, mocosos, ya mejor, despierten Yo se que me encanta el ambiente sigo indigente En el mismo lugar, de siempre, con la misma gente Puedes trayer tu arsenal, pero no te combiene Un corazon artificial, como se defienden Tu vieja te detiene, se te pone por enfrente Y tu no sales, tu te escondes como una serpiente Es como mesclar tequila con un baso de leche Una movida falsa y tu systema no sostiene Y por aqui sigue tronando esas cosas calientes Conosco a franco tiradores que no usan lentes
Repeat Chorus Twice
[Verse 3: Pitbull] Now when them boys get to poppin', you'll get, get, down When them choppers spit Spit Sp-spit, spit, rounds Round of town, upstate, so shake So shake it down Get them boys, get them thangs, but break But break 'em down From the bottom of the panhandle, where birds get manhandled From the pot To the block Where they hand-to-hand you Cook that white with Sprite, that's if we wanna scam you Pitbull, Rich Boy, we got plans too Don't pull out Unless, of course, you spit boy Squeeze out To the bottom of that clip, boy Just to reassure your ass got hit, boy Make thirty-six shows to a 360, that's a flip, boy It's a bird It's a plane, no, that's a brick, boy I got a lick, grab them thangs, let's get Rich, Boy Pitbull chillin' Rich Boy chillin' What more can I say, let's get millions
Hook: Rich Boy Now when them boys get to poppin' Get, get, down Get, get, get-get, get down Get, get, get-get, get Get, get, get-get
Repeat Chorus
[Sick Jacken] Too crazy... (Too crazy...)
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