Вершы: Rich Boy. Other. Get To Poppin' (Latinos Stand Up Remix).

(feat. Sick Jacken (of Psycho Realm), Chino XL, Sinful (of Tha Mexakinz) & Pitbull)

[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

[Chorus x2]

[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

[Chorus]

[Sick Jacken:]
Too crazy... (Too crazy...)