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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
{Capitan Pingaloca}
"Esto no me gusta. Aqui la gente, la gente no sirve pa' mierda. Aqui yo soy, yo soy Capitan Pingaloca. Y to' mundo aqui, me sirve a mi o va pa'l carajo. Oye... revolucion compadre!" {B-Real} In the midst of the madness no question, who's the baddest MC's in the game runnin for the status Take a few seconds to review the crews Sittin on top is the Hill lookin over you Killa Hill Niggas, cream in my dream Cookin up a scheme for all them big bank figures The world is yours, but it can be mine and his Bust you out the frame, I don't give a fuck who it is Number one mission, opposition Get thrown sent home in dead position In the casket, best wishes At the bottom of the lake, sleepin with the fishes Full out search for the body of the MC's who be comin to disrupt the party No wins, no ends, no way that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again! {RZA} Check my dramatics, brains get splattered, dreams shattered Sabas get blasted for words he packaged Peep the sequence; crab adolescents, on his defense Power-U niggaz talkin fast like Puerto Ricans What you seekin, son I catch cream like Dominicans Last Mohican, lyrics I'm speakin, wild as Indians Tomahawk - Shaolin slang, the violent talk Upstate New York, where chumps get extorted for Newports What you thought? {B-Real} Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again {Capitan Pingaloca} "Y ya esta dicho. Todos los que no les guste mi 'rebote' van a morir Yo le voy a meter una bala a la cabeza a cualquier maricon, que no me persiga a mi a la 'singadapuerta'. Oye, hijo puta! Quiero quemarte la cara!" {U-God} Words drop in chant, the cheeky-eyed slant I'm takin these cannabis plants yo for grant' Exotic, narcotic, tunes slam soon From a dune in the desert Mega-Babylon pleasure Comin out the domepiece, smell my aroma Warrior nomad, put you in a coma Comma, llama, smash-crashin your armor Drama, I'm a, stealth aircraft bomber Here is where I dwell at the gates o' hell It ain't where you're from it's where you're in the mentals And if not yo, credentials are essential I see reality, few things surroundin me Three like a spread, precise strikes the lyric Not frontin or braggin, hundred percent red dragon Pine fragranced lyrics, the rhymes you can't imagine The globe-trotter, call me Meadowlark Lemon Five part criminal, two part felon {B-Real} - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back.. ease back.. Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger.. {Capitan Pingaloca} "Esta dicho! Aqui, la revelacion! No se la ve por television. Todos los maricones del norte, que los voy a matar yo. Va a ser aqui en nuestro pais. Y todos los 'singamasones', que estan singando un mundo. Tambien, van a ver la muerte de ellos mismos, lo en las manos de ellos. Un dia, va a ser sangre, mucha sangre. La peste de los cuerpos muertos, vas a oir, que se va a hueler. Hasta los Estados Unidos, estos cabrones, que con la democracia, que nos 'tan singando en el culo. Todos son unos mismos cabrones..." |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
{Capitan Pingaloca}
"Esto no me gusta. Aqui la gente, la gente no sirve pa' mierda. Aqui yo soy, yo soy Capitan Pingaloca. Y to' mundo aqui, me sirve a mi o va pa'l carajo. Oye... revolucion compadre!" {B-Real} In the midst of the madness no question, who's the baddest MC's in the game runnin for the status Take a few seconds to review the crews Sittin on top is the Hill lookin over you Killa Hill Niggas, cream in my dream Cookin up a scheme for all them big bank figures The world is yours, but it can be mine and his Bust you out the frame, I don't give a fuck who it is Number one mission, opposition Get thrown sent home in dead position In the casket, best wishes At the bottom of the lake, sleepin with the fishes Full out search for the body of the MC's who be comin to disrupt the party No wins, no ends, no way that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again! {RZA} Check my dramatics, brains get splattered, dreams shattered Sabas get blasted for words he packaged Peep the sequence; crab adolescents, on his defense Power-U niggaz talkin fast like Puerto Ricans What you seekin, son I catch cream like Dominicans Last Mohican, lyrics I'm speakin, wild as Indians Tomahawk - Shaolin slang, the violent talk Upstate New York, where chumps get extorted for Newports What you thought? {B-Real} Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again {Capitan Pingaloca} "Y ya esta dicho. Todos los que no les guste mi 'rebote' van a morir Yo le voy a meter una bala a la cabeza a cualquier maricon, que no me persiga a mi a la 'singadapuerta'. Oye, hijo puta! Quiero quemarte la cara!" {U-God} Words drop in chant, the cheeky-eyed slant I'm takin these cannabis plants yo for grant' Exotic, narcotic, tunes slam soon From a dune in the desert Mega-Babylon pleasure Comin out the domepiece, smell my aroma Warrior nomad, put you in a coma Comma, llama, smash-crashin your armor Drama, I'm a, stealth aircraft bomber Here is where I dwell at the gates o' hell It ain't where you're from it's where you're in the mentals And if not yo, credentials are essential I see reality, few things surroundin me Three like a spread, precise strikes the lyric Not frontin or braggin, hundred percent red dragon Pine fragranced lyrics, the rhymes you can't imagine The globe-trotter, call me Meadowlark Lemon Five part criminal, two part felon {B-Real} - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back.. ease back.. Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger.. {Capitan Pingaloca} "Esta dicho! Aqui, la revelacion! No se la ve por television. Todos los maricones del norte, que los voy a matar yo. Va a ser aqui en nuestro pais. Y todos los 'singamasones', que estan singando un mundo. Tambien, van a ver la muerte de ellos mismos, lo en las manos de ellos. Un dia, va a ser sangre, mucha sangre. La peste de los cuerpos muertos, vas a oir, que se va a hueler. Hasta los Estados Unidos, estos cabrones, que con la democracia, que nos 'tan singando en el culo. Todos son unos mismos cabrones..." |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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3:23 |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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4:01 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Boom biddy bye bye
Boom biddy bye bye Step back as I'm kicking up dust For a while As I put mothafuckas to rest And pull their files Out from the cabinet With the picture Get the 45 and settle it With this punk nigger Slow your roll As I take control Take your toke from the Indo' Then hit and hold Now let it out How you feel when the herb Got you by the balls And you're coughing up a lung anyhow You can't shake That nigger that's gonna brake Fool On any one member of your bitch crew As I pull the trigger On my nine Say goodnight nigger Boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye You ain't never caught a rabbit So you ain't no friend of mine It's a habit Barkin' up your tree with my nine Keep your bitch on a leash or at home A nick knack Paddywack Give the dog a bone The raw dog Fuck a law dog Still handin' out beat-downs wit' my sawed-off 'Cause a every now and then I got to knuckle up Buckle up Chin checking It's on I reckon It's the wild wild west Get your 40 and your blunt and your Glock and your bulletproof vest Let me guess Everybody wanna test Everybody burning up, gonna get burned like Ses Laudy daudy We're fucking everybody Boom biddy bye Sing the lullaby In the party Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Yes yes ya'll To the beat ya'll Watch a punk slipin' see the pouta fall I'm buck-loody Looking for the nigga who wanna cut me 'Cause the nigger gets so funky Fool I'm the one From The big bad Cypress Hill clique, a Number one son of the funk freaka Yes yes ya'll I'll be the one with the mad Buddha blast ya'll Comin' from the west ya'll But I figure You'd cry like a bitch Don't twitch 'Cause I just might pull the trigga Now lay down Stay down Don't move a muscle if you see your homeboy's brains on the ground Don't fuck don't say nothin' You fuck around and I might get ragamuffin Boom biddy bye bye Line up on the floor now you' all gonna die Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye It's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Time to say good-bye Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die |
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3:03 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"This sure is. I got data on crazy shit for round the corner you know
The homeboys and the brothers be slangin' this shit But anyway, (everybody must get stoned (x4)) You over there singin' some shit, talkin' 'bout Everybody must get stoned I don't know but that shit sounds good to me" [Verse 1] Hit the joint, up the bomb, take a puff Till you just can't get enough Of the sunk a punk Pick an endo, wanna take control But the primaso puff on the endo (keep puffin') Let me take it in then I let it out (let it out) One of you motherfuckers pass the barred owl Peace to the niggaz in all the Budha spots Slangin' fat bags o' weed and runnin from the cops (runnin' from them fools) I hit the leno then pass it on To the cypha' of dreadlocks gettin' stoned (All the dreadlocks lya') >From the fat joint twisted at the end 'Cos I get high with a little help from my friends (from my friends) [Chorus] Everybody must get stoned I said everybody must get stoned (Everybody must get stoned)*variations* (x4) [Verse 2] Hit the blunt of the bong, take your dope Now my head's in a cloud of smoke and no joke Called 'the uptight', motherfuckers puttin' me down 'Cos I talk about the green shit in every town (Everywhere I go) You right in front of me, I can't see ya I'm blind and faded and I get the G-rock And everything's gonna be alright When I pass that toochi from the left-hand side Niggaz is havin' a good time tonight Roll it up, hold it up, pass me the fucking light (Gimme that lighter) Indoor on the home-grown Light it up, everybody must get stoned (gotta get stoned) (Chorus-different variations) You know how we talkin' to talk We say, stoned is the way of the walk (x4) (Chorus till fade) |
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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Verse One: B-Real
Let me introduce my self I'm the one who rules the set So don't you forget Bad for ya health but ya still be tryin' ta push buttons But you ain't nothin', no frontin I bring the level up a little louder In the clubs, an' the jeeps an' the after hours Fools on the street wanna feel the funk Lookin for the 'skunk' that's what'cha want Ya betta, sit back and let the track flow Like smoke in ya lungs from puffin' on the indo Rythems upside'cha brain, can ya hang, can maintain Can ya feel the funk flowin' in ya veins Get'cha fix and ya bag of tricks In tha mix I got the stix and stones a few bricks I'm gonna hit 'em high He's gonna hit 'em low Open up ya mind so that'chu can feel the flow On, an' on till there all gone Fools be runnin' but they won't last long Chorus: I'm the freaka (8X) Verse Two: B-Real People always wanna get what you got, no matta what Can't take care of themselves in the big hunt In the quest for the crown An' the jewels, and the cheese Motherfucker please Enemies wanna plot against me with envy in they hearts But, I rip their sorry ass apart In a minute, I can take ya to the limit Temprature risen, nasal highzen Verse Three: Sen Dog Comin' back in with the lows, for the fows Fuckin' up egos, an' anybody, oppose The numba one skunk freaka, the Cypress Hill cliqua Blowin' a hole in tha speaker You don't wanna dis the Perro, the Real One, or the Werro Slangin' rythems through the ghetto Ya best keep ya ass in cheak Come on little mutha fuckas betta show respect An whats next, the big brown takin' ya down How ya feel (how ya feel punk) When your sorry ass can't hang with the Hill Chorus: 1/2 Outro: B-Real Can ya feel the effects of the chocolate tide Nobody even knows how I kick the flow Slow down, cause ya commin' up too fast Ya might get smacked down cause ya got no class [Fades out] |
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4:28 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Some people tell me that I need help
Some people can fuck off and go to hell God damn, why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em! And feed 'em, cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gat to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin that trigga, I dig ya That grave on the east side of towwwwn Lay ya six feet undergrounnnnd From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Clicl-clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't goin home But I ain't goin out with a bang Wa da da dang, wa dada daa dang *I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's fuckin me up in my mind Motherfuckers be drivin me up the walls Hopin that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket, strap it In a padded room when some punk niggaz can't hack it Distracted from all reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality (ahhh) They all fucked up now Cause they let a nigga back on the streets somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city lookin at the ho wit the big titties Lookin at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin hot Cause she looks like my girl who just smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin round with the gauge or a rope *Repeat I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. |
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4:00 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"Esto no me gusta. Aqui la gente, la gente no sirve pa' mierda.
Aqui yo soy, yo soy Capitan Pingaloca. Y to' mundo aqui, me sirve a mi o va pa'l carajo. Oye... revolucion compadre!" In the midst of the madness no question, who's the baddest MC's in the game runnin for the status Take a few seconds to review the crews Sittin on top is the Hill lookin over you Killa Hill Niggas, cream in my dream Cookin up a scheme for all them big bank figures The world is yours, but it can be mine and his Bust you out the frame, I don't give a fuck who it is Number one mission, opposition Get thrown sent home in dead position In the casket, best wishes At the bottom of the lake, sleepin with the fishes Full out search for the body of the MC's who be comin to disrupt the party No wins, no ends, no way that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again! Check my dramatics, brains get splattered, dreams shattered Sabas get blasted for words he packaged Peep the sequence; crab adolescents, on his defense Power-U niggaz talkin fast like Puerto Ricans What you seekin, son I catch cream like Dominicans Last Mohican, lyrics I'm speakin, wild as Indians Tomahawk - Shaolin slang, the violent talk Upstate New York, where chumps get extorted for Newports What you thought? Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again "Y ya esta dicho. Todos los que no les guste mi 'rebote' van a morir Yo le voy a meter una bala a la cabeza a cualquier maricon, que no me persiga a mi a la 'singadapuerta'. Oye, hijo puta! Quiero quemarte la cara!" Words drop in chant, the cheeky-eyed slant I'm takin these cannabis plants yo for grant' Exotic, narcotic, tunes slam soon From a dune in the desert Mega-Babylon pleasure Comin out the domepiece, smell my aroma Warrior nomad, put you in a coma Comma, llama, smash-crashin your armor Drama, I'm a, stealth aircraft bomber Here is where I dwell at the gates o' hell It ain't where you're from it's where you're in the mentals And if not yo, credentials are essential I see reality, few things surroundin me Three like a spread, precise strikes the lyric Not frontin or braggin, hundred percent red dragon Pine fragranced lyrics, the rhymes you can't imagine The globe-trotter, call me Meadowlark Lemon Five part criminal, two part felon - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back.. ease back.. Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger.. "Esta dicho! Aqui, la revelacion! No se la ve por television. Todos los maricones del norte, que los voy a matar yo. Va a ser aqui en nuestro pais. Y todos los 'singamasones', que estan singando un mundo. Tambien, van a ver la muerte de ellos mismos, lo en las manos de ellos. Un dia, va a ser sangre, mucha sangre. La peste de los cuerpos muertos, vas a oir, que se va a hueler. Hasta los Estados Unidos, estos cabrones, que con la democracia, que nos 'tan singando en el culo. Todos son unos mismos cabrones..." |
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2:56 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Living in the city of the Scandalous
Shisty motherfuckers, can't even trust my own brothers So who can I choose to trust, me, that's who Niggas want a piece of the pie, fuck off and die! Jealous, envious fools want to rush this Loco, trooping ass nigga with the cash, shit Motherfuckers just get your own, and leave mine alone Forty-five places to get done Send out your invitation To the party of your elimination I got peeps that play for keeps, (Hardball) Now I'm laying your ass down to sleep But every hustler wants to be bawling But I got the balls for the shot calling I pull strings, the Don King, only in America Then I hustle, and flex my muscle --Yeah, man, I've been out here running game for eight years --I know I'm getting tired of standing on this corner --Nigga, I want a fat pad, and fly ass pool Finest motherfucking bitches, jewels and all that shit, if I got to take it from a nigga --Shit, let him run for me then --I can work for myself, don't have to work for nobody, I'll be my own hustler Where can I roam to get my hustle on Killafornia, stacking the chips, got the full clips Loaded and cocked, I'm used to running with the Glock Nina Millimeter, lighting up the fucking block Now, who you gonna trust?, who can you trust? I don't know, but if you coming on my corner I think I'm gonna bust You can't handle us, devious, dangerous Criminal mentality, insanity I move weight, from state to state All the niggas moving weights, can you relate? --Damn, what's up, I see you pushing that big time weight --I told you, I wasn't bullshitting --You coming up, aight! --When I seen you three or four months ago I told you --Got respect for a man now --Handle your shit! Where can I choose to get my hustle on? In the alleyway, lighting up all night long Fuck working at McD's, I'm rolling with the O.Z's In the QP's, puffing on trees Who can I trust?, who can you trust? Not that shady motherfucker in the city Los Scandalous --Well, well, little man came up a little bit --It feels good having money in the pocket --Fuck that nine to five bullshit, right? --Yeah, kick that shit to the curb --But you got to look out for the scandalous motherfuckers Cuz niggas is tricky than a motherfucker --Yeah, but motherfuckers got to look out for us too You know what I'm saying I'm just as shisty as a nigga --Shit, set me up and niggas are gonna die --You get set up back, cuz we ain't having that bullshit --I got your back, you got mine, that goes without saying --Twenty-seven and mo' baby, twenty-seven and mo' --Let's get the fuck out of here" |
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3:43 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Fuck all y'all
I'm comin' of the wall I got a nigga from The Source Swingin' from my balls Ughh! Ya want me to set it Well my MAC-11 takes unleaded Let it rain And jackin' out fire What you're seein' when I'm takin' shit another level higher Now it's on Ain't gettin' domed Buckin' all these niggas 'till they all gone Now we can roll to the east side of town And I'm lookin' for a fat boy and a lotta (state of clown) You better move your ass to this MAC-11 Pointed at your ass for the 1-8-7 "Yeah motherfucker, gonna break your back with this shit. Hey motherfuckas: move back! Yo, B-Real.." I'm the head-hunter You goin' under Make a trophy Call it the two-headed buster On my mantle Back in the temple Givin' up the family Up and down Central Butt bloody Anybody Lookin' for a wide body One body Somebody Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson I ain't fallin' off like Humpty-Dumpty Nigga you still wanna bump me Still got the hand on pump And now I'm thumpin' on 'em Thumpin on 'em See Somebody, anybody scream When I got the gatt with the big red beam Now what if I moved it up right between your eyes Now your chances are never When you're lookin' at the slug at the of the barrel Where ya gonna run when ya can't move further Seven eighty one redruM with the Murder Tie him up Throw him in the trunk Let the funk Blow his earsdrums out 'Till he's bleedin' Then let's get him weeded It's the phunk Buddha Let me do the Ceremony up with the hoota And the shooter Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson |
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3:35 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Verse One: B-Real
Let me introduce my self I'm the one who rules the set So don't you forget Bad for ya health but ya still be tryin' ta push buttons But you ain't nothin', no frontin I bring the level up a little louder In the clubs, an' the jeeps an' the after hours Fools on the street wanna feel the funk Lookin for the 'skunk' that's what'cha want Ya betta, sit back and let the track flow Like smoke in ya lungs from puffin' on the indo Rythems upside'cha brain, can ya hang, can maintain Can ya feel the funk flowin' in ya veins Get'cha fix and ya bag of tricks In tha mix I got the stix and stones a few bricks I'm gonna hit 'em high He's gonna hit 'em low Open up ya mind so that'chu can feel the flow On, an' on till there all gone Fools be runnin' but they won't last long Chorus: I'm the freaka (8X) Verse Two: B-Real People always wanna get what you got, no matta what Can't take care of themselves in the big hunt In the quest for the crown An' the jewels, and the cheese Motherfucker please Enemies wanna plot against me with envy in they hearts But, I rip their sorry ass apart In a minute, I can take ya to the limit Temprature risen, nasal highzen Verse Three: Sen Dog Comin' back in with the lows, for the fows Fuckin' up egos, an' anybody, oppose The numba one skunk freaka, the Cypress Hill cliqua Blowin' a hole in tha speaker You don't wanna dis the Perro, the Real One, or the Werro Slangin' rythems through the ghetto Ya best keep ya ass in cheak Come on little mutha fuckas betta show respect An whats next, the big brown takin' ya down How ya feel (how ya feel punk) When your sorry ass can't hang with the Hill Chorus: 1/2 Outro: B-Real Can ya feel the effects of the chocolate tide Nobody even knows how I kick the flow Slow down, cause ya commin' up too fast Ya might get smacked down cause ya got no class [Fades out] |
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3:28 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Smokin' MC's like a bowl of Buddha Burnin' in my bong NOW You don't want to step to the rhythm of the funk degrees You'll be a prisoner in the temple of thieves Move it out, just move it on out, no doubt We the number one crew Kickin' more gas niggas out the house Puttin' up an argument, just don't bother `Cause I'll whoop that ass just like I'm your father Take heed to the master's call yes y'all (Bring your cell-phone cause I fade them all) Bullets fly But they don't give a fuck about who dies When you're in the middle of the fuckin' No question, confrontation Nowhere to run from the assassination Let the rain come down Whoops there goes another body on the ground Watch out for G hound It's the undisputed Cypress family Kickin' up dust can you handle us fragilly Growin' inside your mind like a tumour Spreading in your head like a rumor Venomous! I'm from the underground, I take care of business What the fuck is this? Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Suckas come in all shapes sizes and colors Let me get the rope And hang `em `till their fuckin' necks broke Wind passage cut off, now you can't breathe Let me give you what you need A fat dose of the good weed Like a puppet on a string I'm the one controlling your ass With the rough shit here to bring My army grows like the buddha I sold ya Every seed planted is another fuckin' soldier Like the `coup d'etate' Now ya are in the middle of the ambush Stuck in your car They can't find ya At the bottom of the lake Let me remind ya You better be lookin' behind ya It's too late, ain't no one standin' here Hallucination, bees hummin' in your ear Paranoia, dwelling to your dome piece Increase, the level of the terror that move ceased Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Come on Open up the doors for the high funk buddha With the light point the dick can die Rolling with the six shooter Thirty-eight Still shootin' real straight Lookin' for the buster that I must eliminate No surprise As the inches demise Let the four flow As I look him right in the eyes And rip these niggas in half With the (fabergraph) They can't find a path I like the aftermath Still I reign the sect we remain The big bad Cypress Hill, fuckin' niggas up again When I aim I'm scopin' for your brain Brother stay low, cross-hairs break you up the frame Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! |
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5:01 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Boom biddy bye bye
Boom biddy bye bye Step back as I'm kicking up dust For a while As I put mothafuckas to rest And pull their files Out from the cabinet With the picture Get the 45 and settle it With this punk nigger Slow your roll As I take control Take your toke from the Indo' Then hit and hold Now let it out How you feel when the herb Got you by the balls And you're coughing up a lung anyhow You can't shake That nigger that's gonna brake Fool On any one member of your bitch crew As I pull the trigger On my nine Say goodnight nigger Boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye You ain't never caught a rabbit So you ain't no friend of mine It's a habit Barkin' up your tree with my nine Keep your bitch on a leash or at home A nick knack Paddywack Give the dog a bone The raw dog Fuck a law dog Still handin' out beat-downs wit' my sawed-off 'Cause a every now and then I got to knuckle up Buckle up Chin checking It's on I reckon It's the wild wild west Get your 40 and your blunt and your Glock and your bulletproof vest Let me guess Everybody wanna test Everybody burning up, gonna get burned like Ses Laudy daudy We're fucking everybody Boom biddy bye Sing the lullaby In the party Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Yes yes ya'll To the beat ya'll Watch a punk slipin' see the pouta fall I'm buck-loody Looking for the nigga who wanna cut me 'Cause the nigger gets so funky Fool I'm the one From The big bad Cypress Hill clique, a Number one son of the funk freaka Yes yes ya'll I'll be the one with the mad Buddha blast ya'll Comin' from the west ya'll But I figure You'd cry like a bitch Don't twitch 'Cause I just might pull the trigga Now lay down Stay down Don't move a muscle if you see your homeboy's brains on the ground Don't fuck don't say nothin' You fuck around and I might get ragamuffin Boom biddy bye bye Line up on the floor now you' all gonna die Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye It's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Time to say good-bye Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die |
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1:46 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"(Inhales) Break that shit off nigga"
Look at all the M.C.'s trying to get down But all you get is a peeled back, dome cap I'm not the one to be having that shit All these punk niggas better bow down and submit Niggas don't know how to "keep it real" Only if you niggas know the real deal Fuck all the bullshit, Cypress Hill Comes raining on your brain Bringing the blood stains Smeared on the sidewalk, one mark dome of the prejudice skull, hanging in my home "Straight to you dome sucker So what you wanna do fool" The Big Game hunter, fucking shit up Get your ass back down, the Hill's on the cut Who'll get in the circle, let's see if you're raw Hardcore, last vato might hit the fucking floor Glocks and ?, in them one clip For any buster who wanna flip Back ese ?, shining in your eye Soul of an Assassin, until I die (Por vida ese!) Red light visions in your dome piece Nightmares running through your head, won't cease Look at you now, broke down and done No competition can ever get none "Straight flip-flop, nigga, flip-flop on your punk ass until you drop (Cypress Hill, coming at your grill) You're nothing but a motherfucking time clock Cypress motherfucking Hill (Fuck how you feel) It ain't but another piece to the puzzle fool!" |
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3:39 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Once again the powers of the herb open up the mind,
Seek deep inside, tell me what you find, Come on... Who be the ones steppin' in the room, Everybody welcome to the temple of boom, Back, let me see ya fat indo sack, And get weeded, somebody, everybody need it, Mari-Juana, Mari-Juana, do ya wanna, Give me love when I put the flame on ya, Homie I'm the one with the shotgun,in the closet, Next to the fat bags full of chronic, Puto, don't ya be steppin', with ya hands open, Askin' me "can I get a hit of what t'cha smokein'", I aint got no kind of love for a brother, Who comes to the party, with no bud, I be smokein' this, indo-blazin', funk buddah, Everybody, wanted it, now they talk about the hooter, Up until the summer of '91, Wasn't no mutha fuckas talkin' 'bout smokein' blunts, From the west coast to the east coast, Everybody be braggin', But , I'm the one who be puffin' most, First it started with the nickel, then the dime, Then the Twenty, spendin' up all my money, Now, I roll with the nelco(?), With the pound in the pad smokein' up the indo, Just take a deep breath (Ahh), Hit it then pass it to the left, You can keep the mutha fuckin' stress, Smoke it up, just puff it up, (O yea), Light it up, then put your spliff up in the air, Do you wanna spark another owl? Do you wanna spark another owl? Everybody spark another owl. Everybody spark another owl. I wanna spark another owl. I wanna spark another owl. Do you wanna spark another owl? Do you wanna spark another owl? (Sen Dog)Yea, stroll the ways of the buddah mastas, brings me to the temple of boom, I see people everywhere startin' to understand the point, when I'm talking about the joint, talkin' 'bout that marijuana, talkin' 'bout the sense, talkin' 'bout the kind mota boca loa-loa maui,maui, lugers of work- ready, mexican greenba, cheeba, cheeba y'all, yeska, humble pound weed, the crypt, the choclate tide, the afgani, the meefrakan, the indo, the skonka, the bad breath sense (cough). Hello everyone, I'm Kurt Loaded, we're here t hemp TV, with Cypress Hill in Amsterdam we're listening to there new album, I'm stoned, I'm outta here, Goodbye folks. |
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2:54 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
1 for trouble, 8 for the road,
7 to get ready when I'm lettin' off all my load, Funk, Buddha monk, in the trunk, I got'cha, thumpin' so hard, Up and down the blvd., I'm a natrual-born cap-peela', strapped illa, I'm the west coast settin' it on, no one's reala', Get'cha fix of the uncut funk, A small dose of the skunk weed, like it's suppose to be, Move it up, just move it on out, What'cha talkin'bout son, I got the first shot, and it's all over now, One nation under a groove, Smoke a pound for the strict of it, Everytime I make a move, Smooth and togetha, Raw like leatha, Ain't goin' out like a punk, neva, Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove It's the numba one money maker, Money takea, few steps back I'm on a plane to Jamaica,(Am I) Puffin' a fat wada, talk shit, For the fool I'm thinkin' about, I got the ruff shit, Hard rock bone breaka, Stoned Raider, in the Temple of Boom, Assurt to assume, Never be lettin' shit slide, no way, Bitch niggas can hide, But, I'll find they ass some day, Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Wherever you are, put'cha muthafuckin' spliff in the air, Some dogs, like you gotta pair, When I kick to the metro, Lone clip, be lookin' around, Cause this shit ain't over with yet, People can't understand my situation, Now they cought up in the Soul Assasination, Fool, just take cover, it's all over, When I break ya off a chunk of this muthafucka, Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove |
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4:31 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
I neva rapped on an R&B record, and I neva will,
I got these phoney muthafuckas, talk about lets keep it real, But, they don't know how to take they own advisement, Going out, do it solo on an advertisement, comecializing Fuckin' sell out, nigga, this is hip-hop, not fasion, Get the hell out, I'm taking out these so called gangsta niggas, Takin' pictures, modeling clothes for small figures, And I neva took another fuckin' MC's shit, And made it my first single, fuck a hit, Fuckin' hypocrite, you can get the dip, when I lick a shot off, I'm gonna, and all of it, It's a damn shame when you got all these fools in the record indistry, Sellin' out for the fame, I just sit back and watch thes fools with their gimmiks, Go down in flames , in the big game, Zippidey-dooda, I smoke weed and I got brain damage, But, I don't give a fuck cause I still manage, To represent to the fullest, No pop singles, and no actin' foolish, To the studio gangsta with the articals, In them magizines with the bitch editors, Keep it real in the game, Niggas got no shame, Now all the executives want all the fame, Based on the videos, just a gang of silly hoes, For the fuck-em indistry that's take'n all ya dough, I neva stole it, stole it all, Just hard work, and sweat, for them platinum records on the wall, Fools want me to fall, I won't cause my roots are to thick and strong, like the chocolate tastic, I hear niggas say no, but, I know they front, Cause afta they shows they want me to smoke a blunt, I don't respect a hypocrite, muthafuckas I despise, Cause me I tell the truth, even when I tell a lie, All you bruthas in the game run a check, Cause you get checked fucked off, with no respect, Muthafuckas |
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4:06 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Every nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for your neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on the mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air (c'mon) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw it up homes!) Wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ask you ?? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the Glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter Los scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air (c'mon) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw your hood up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care (got c'mon on!) Throw ya set in the air (give it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Nigga throw your set in the air, nigga you know I'm sayin' If you're scared nigga take your muthafuckin' punk ass to church Cause this one from a nigga on the east side Every muthafuckin' day is a job nigga Gotta handle your business, niggas you get don't You muthafuckin' cap on get peel back And it ain't no bullshit If you wanna test a nigga, bring it on nigga, you know I'm sayin'? Fuck your muthafuckin' set up in the air Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air (c'mon) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw your hood up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (give it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Yeah, that's right Straight givin' up the 'hood long day fool! Cypress Hill muthafucka watcha wanna do? Hell no Givin' my shit to be in your face fool! |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
Livin in the city of the scandalous, shiesty mother fuckas
Can't even trust my own brothers, So who can i choose to trust ? me that's who. Niggas want a piece of the pie, fuck off and die. Jealous, envious, fools wanna rush this. Loco cuban ass nigga with the cash shit. Mother fuckers better get your own And leave mine alone forty five ways to get domed. I send out the invitation, To the party of your elimination. I got peeps that play for keeps........ Now i'm layin your ass down to sleep. But every hustler wanna be ballin But don't got the ball's for the shot callin. I pull strings, the don king; Only in america can i hustle and flex my muscle. (hook). Where can i roam to get my hustle on, Killafornia stackin the chips got the full clips. Loaded and cocked used to run with a glock; Nina milimeter sig lightin up the fuckin block now, Who you gonna trust? who can you trust? I don't know, but if your comin on my corner; i'm gonna bust. You can't handle us, devious, dangerous, Criminal mentality, insanity. I move weight from state to state. All the niggas movin weight can you relate. (hook). Where can i chill to get my hustle on, In the alley way comin up all nite long. Fuck workin at mc' dee's I'm rollin with the o.z's, and the q.p's Puffin on tree's. Who you gonna trust? who can you trust? Not that shady mother fucker in the city of scandalous. {hook}..............end. |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
[Wyclef] Refugee camp, with Cypress Hill
[B-Real] Yo, bringin it on [Wyclef] Cubans meet the Haitians Perfect combination, check it Verse One: Wyclef, B-Real [Wyclef] You say guns [B-Real] I say pistolas [Wyclef] Well if you got beef son [B-Real] Callate la boca [Wyclef] Go meet me on the island where the Cubans meet the Haitians [B-Real] A bullet beats the verbal lyrical assassination [Wyclef] From L.A. to Brooklyn why you doin all that talkin [B-Real] Think you got a soul but you're a Dead Man Walking [Wyclef] Yo toast the host from coasts' we boast When we meet again, I will be Casper that Friendly Ghost [B-Real] You'll hear shots, like the show Cops Things are still the same, I'm still growin crops [Wyclef] Wyclef with B-Real, let me build better yet [B-Real] Killa bee kill [Wyclef] Yo B-Real watch your grip Chorus: B-Real, Wyclef, Lauryn Hill [B-Real] Hi, boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhhahhh, ahhhahhh [Wyclef] You open up your eyes you'll be the next one to die [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [B-Real] Boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [Wyclef] Ohh as simple as they come as as simple as they die [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [B-Real] Boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [Wyclef] Yo who told the boyy, to pack a forty-five [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [B-Real] Boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhahhhh [Wyclef] Now he rest in the place that they call paradise Verse Two: B-Real, Wyclef Fools run up, but they've never seen the last Spread your last lyrics get broken like glass Can he pass or does he posess the will Or does he need to create to keep him straight on the real Punks are broken some dey fall off the ledge Refugee Camp bringin it straight over the edge You duck as I fluff the feathers from ya skin How ya gonna win that's like Satan without no sin (without no sin) They'll never happen while I'm rappin I be watchin The Philistines, creepin up in Manhattan The sun turn up though Wyclef produce a track with Muggs But there's no survivors, they all died in the flood Chorus Verse Three: Wyclef, B-Real Yo, once a child, twice a villain If this was drugs I'd make a million off this combination They say you'redope Clef you're dope so they offer me sess and beer Beware, you pull your wallet Mr. Thief stares The opposite direction of the room, he pulled his gun and said I'm doomed join the son of man in the tomb I see the soldiers, comin from out the shadows Ready for battle, ain't trying to hear the baffled Warriors lined up in full war gear In it to win it if it goes on for years Dedicated to the stable of the Assassins Revolutionaries, just bring on the action Chorus [WYCLEF] Soldier man Rewind selector soldier man Refugee soldier man Brooklyn soldier man L.A massive soldier man New Jersey massive soldier man Uptown massive soldier man Long beach massive soldier man You know the whole world watches soldier man Boom biddy bye bye open up ya eyes you'll be the next one to die....... |
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4:42 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Well I'm an alley cat
Some say a dirty rat On my side is my gat See I'm all of that Spittin' out buck shots, for I'm gonna wetcha Running hard, but I'm still coming to getcha Thinking like a peace smoke, comin' on a homicide You talkin' shit, try to take me for a ride I'm not a bad guy But I'm the funky feel one Finger on the trigger with my hands upon the steel Lettin' out a bullet, this is going boo-ya You're stuck in my hood, so what ya gonna do now? Being the hunted one is no fun Here I come son Yo I think you better run Better run more, and move a little faster Second of thought and I'm coming to blast ya With my Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Comin' at you like a stiff blow, fuckin' up your program Ain't takin' shit from you him or no man Master mind maniac and a menace Oh, how they want to pass a sentence All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger He missed So now the nigga's hist' Rude and crude like a pitbull Get to the point, your fuckin' going to get pulled Now, I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns Get your face down! Put me in chains Try to beat my brains I can get out, but the grudge remains When I see ya punk ass, I'm gonna get ya Gatt ya Fucking do ya Shotgun goes boo-ya! Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit, Think I'll light another for the blunted to chill with 'Cause I'm the chill one Known to get ill when They stepped to the Hill "What's up?", I had to kill one Now I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Livin' like a nigga who done lost his mind 'Cause I ain't goin out like a spineless jellyfish Some say life is a bitch Ask that punk who dug his own ditch Up on the Hill fuckin' up at a party Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body Lala la la lala la laa Look at all of those funeral cars 'Cause I'm a Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa |
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4:24 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Hits From The Bong
Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Pick it, pack it, Fire it up, Come along, And take a hit from the bong, Put the blunt down just for a second, Don't get me wrong it's not a new method, Inhale, Exhale, Just got a ounce in the mail, I like a blunt or a big fat cone, But my double barrel bong is gettin' me stoned, I'm skill it, There's water inside don't spill it, It smells like shit on the carpet, Still it, goes down smooth when I get a clean hit, Of the skunky funky smelly green shit, Sing my song, puff all night long, As I take Hits from the bong... Hits From The Bong y'all Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Let's smoke that bowl, hit the bong, And then take that finger off of that hole, Plug it, unplug it, Don't straaaain, I love you Mary Jane, She never complains, when I hit Mary, With that flame, I light up the cherry, She's so good to me, when I pack a fresh bowl I clean the screen, Don't get me stirred up the smoke, through the bub-bling water, Is Makin' it pure so I got ta', take my hit and hold it, Just like Chong, I hit the bowl and I reload it, Get my four-footer and bring it on... As I take Hits from the bong, Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Straighten your dick out... Can I get a hit ... |
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Some people tell me that I need help
Some people can fuck off and go to hell God damn, why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck em! And feed em cause I don't need em I won't join em if I can beat em They don't understand my logic To my gat to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin that trigga, I dig ya That grave on the east side of town Lay ya six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Clic Cloc barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit the pain Wa da da dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind Muthafuckas be drivin me up the walls Hopin that I fall but they can suck my balls Straight jacket, strap it In a padded room when some punk niggaz can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city lookin at the ho wit the big titties Lookin at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin hot Cause she looks like my girl who just smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin round wit the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions |
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4:26 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Intro:
What′s up we gonna go down the line baby Brand new one from the Call O Da Wild Give big shouts to money makin Manhattan 145th street crews, 155th street crews All my niggaz on the East Side We gonna flip the track baby, flip the script like this Big shouts to all the weed spots and all that who know how we do Me things no money sat on Monies chicks Fillin Barcadi on club seats Harm′s represent the crease on wise fully feet harmly accriminate Futuristic kittens of the street all malfunction seats Crews stand like mannequins sportin names is Tim′s I′ll make half your flaps burn is self-discipline And supportin your kittens if you′re convinced They keep the scripts movie-men Experience and hard is (unknown) has captured run for the (unkown) Mischievous black kids dipped in black hooches Ruthless-a the caswendler stupid used to pump with the any gooier Now let the card hold the futures Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual trauma causing dime Barron Ricks B Ricks stands anonymous decant flicks And non-raps that can′t bonely manifest the Buddha blessed Freshly dressed rollin in the clubs for success I′m not dressed in materialistic games to get the sex The five six I′m livin fortune of survival tactics Keepin my enemies close and all my niggaz out of business What is this? Slicey characters spreadin my business Fragments that can′t manage that do damage yo I had it Environmental pressure causing static In fabric of the asiac cabbage it′s madness All this I′m civilized now what do I now? Run these avenues buckwild with crews now who is it? Makin all you critics fiend these lyrics And be the core Yes y′all comin through on your premises This is it Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Interlude KnowI′msayin? Big shouts to my sacred projects connections know I′m sayin? All my brothers on 113th Lexus to-dial knowI′msayin? Big shouts to the LES baby we see you Put on Stella performances While niggaz place bids at auto auctions Re-model frames and changin rusty engines and courting And while you Forman fools wanna shorten my life My life is like survival organs It′s not important that you′re this lyrical dissertation Tossing lineal seeing precitals break your vinyl Chronically spotting spiral perhaps spinning out wax Yo ?Nas? put the black wars on elegant floors The teachers got operations make em insecure Gypsy cabs I flag Donnas DC slam that ass take a detour Affiliates with my predominately black landscape Hop the squad I watch the sling shot from rotting up your pin spot Jostling nigga glocked him playing possum I got the X-ray vision Ain′t nothing poppin while the tears who interfere And the fears they disappear Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin DONS Outro: Ah man that′s the Call O′ Da Wild flavor baby I can′t take it no more I′m outta here baby But before we get up out I wanna give big shouts To all the Buddha spots that made this possible Big shouts to the 99 cents store baby The discount health foods know I′m sayin? All the brothers on the Lexus ail with that good, goodness Big shouts to the party bag shop To all you other food spots on your roster crew with the end shit Yeah we out baby don′t forget to flip this to the other side Get with that Call O′ Da Wild baby, it′s like that yeah |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Freak to the funk that no-one else is bringing
Sen Dog with the funky bilenge Yeah that's the nombre, heard the homey Peace to Mellow and Frost, and the deporte Sen Dog is not kid from the Telano I'm down, another fried hispano One of the many of the latin deseyano [de-say-ahnyo] And I got plenty for the Jennies tryin to hound dog But wait, they're clownin on me cause of my language I have to tell em straight up, it's called spanglish Now who's on the fiend, gala gringo Tryin to get paid, from the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Yeah, funky bilingual! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo! [Sen Dog] From the entro, when I come in, suckers fronted They mida, another bilingual from bein a banga, como ejemplo, check the tempo Ahh, it's that chingonla instrumental Ya no usted, como somos Yo no jovo, I gots the soul dose And you can hear it, in las skonkas Tribal ceremony as the Hill gets stronger Don't be such a leper what chupa la cabeza Hey homes, pass the cervaza Before I have to go and push up on your resa Hmm, she's fine, son que fresca Here homes have a hit of this yesca Deep yo enseno [en-senyo] the lingua la prento Now you know, that I am in the centro Where you live, si tu puedes Nowadays you ain't shit without your puentes Something like it's gangbang, vatos get it BANG BANG Could of hung out with them now you callin me a insane Senta la mi cado, senta mi conmigo Make way, for the the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilinguals hoe! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo, baby! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilingual... Some of that old Latin funk, knowhatI'msayin? [Sen Dog] (What's up homey? Don't you know me?) Si mon (Ain't you the brother of the mas pingo?) Straight up And I'm down with La Raza Kid Frost got my back, BOO-YAA! in la casa Cause everyday things get a little crazier As I step to the microphone area First I claim my city, pudo los angeles [an-heles] Yeah (you know homes) that's where the calles is Vato wouldn't know me, along with the heinas Catchin all them slippin, for they such a one-timer So when you see me at the party or the baile Before I got here I was gaffled in the calle Troop like a vacho who said I was baracho Had an attitude, tried to play me macho Just relax, calmado mijo Sen Dog with the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual... funky baby! Yeah, I'd like to send peace, to my homeboy B-Real Mellow Man Ace, Kid Frost, Ralph M the Mexican And we're out |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Yeah
Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins Cypress Hill joint. Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up... ...so get it on kid! Verse One: Erick Sermon Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte Quicker done than O.J., hey I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time? And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill Huh, I go on with my bad self I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes Never walk through the crowd sluggish I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON I gets real determined And one for the trouble, and two for the bass I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace And if you don't know, y'all better recognize I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed Verse Two: B-Real Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill With chips and clips and tons of blue steel So who wants to be the first nigga to die? Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini You get thrown sent home in a coffin Punk stuff don't make it back, very often I got Erick to take care of the Sermon Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin Bustin open the doors to the temple Takin you to the dark side of your mental Chorus: B-Real Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys Throw your hands in the air Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys Throw your hands in the air Chorus Verse Three: Redman I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy finger up on the pen, be like "He the bomb, dicky!" These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt* Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest individual, to put criminal in diapers With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad! With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of Chorus Verse Four: MC Eiht Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me Keep your hands on your hood, you get got The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock You wish you could hang, like I hang Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you Ain't no poppin, no stoppin Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress Chorus Chorus Outro: Sen Dog Aight, for everybody All our peeps out on the corners All the alleyways For all our decesed Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets Nineteen ninety-five Soul Assassins in your mind |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
B-Real:
Whatta you know? The nigga stole my dough So I reached in the closet for the 4-4 [Whatta you know?] Jus' hold on, just wait a minute It's gone, along with my big bad nickel-plated Whatta you know? The fucker took my phone I still can't believe that he robbed my home! Whatta you know? I think he got to the herb And the ferria, and the jewlery, and the Mausberg Whatta you know? I can't find my keys to the 6-5 All the way live on D's Whatta you know? I can't find my Rolex With the 21 diamonds, shinin' on flecks Whatta you know? When I find that mark-ass nigga, I'ma cut out his fuckin' heart! Sen-Dog: Whatta you know? I came up on this baller For the dollar and the weed sack, and his Impala! Whatta you think, when you can't trust your so-called homie Like me, and you thought that you know me? Whatta you feel, when you're lookin' in the closet And the gat's gone, and so is your cellular phone? Whatta you know? I took your loot and the jewels With the buddah and the laptop in the nickel-plated tool! Whatta you know? Now I run the show With the phat pockets and the nigga's fly gold Wahtta you think, when ya ass gets jacked By a homie who was supposed to have your back? B-Real: Whatta you know? I'm rollin' in my zone And I think I see the puto who rigged my home [Whatta you think?] I got the glock in the glove Should I dump on the man, leave him lying in the mud? Wahtta you know? He pulled out my 4-4 Now I got no choice, so I let it all flow [Whatta you know?] The motherfucker's all blastin' 4-5 equal, in time for some tractions [Whatta you know?] Slide action, no question Forty-five slug is bad for your complexion [Whatta you know?] The puto's cryin' like a bitch Now the puto's lyin' in a fuckin' ditch! B-Real (spoken): [Whatta you know?] You can't even trust your fuckin' best homeboy these days, homes. [Whatta you know?] You got to sleep with one nine fuckin' open ... [Whatta you know?] Payback's a motherfuckin' bitch! [Whatta you know?] That puto should've watched his fuckin' back. [Whatta you know?] (repeated till end) |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Goin down, goin down
Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down (B-Real) Livin on phat pockets on flat wit tha gat Rollin around nine deuce Cadillac Still got my homies to watch my back And they'll smoke ya ass if ya wanna come chat That's why some pigs an tha kids come sweatin They follow a hollow point shells hard ta swallow Why wallow when ya come ta roll on I put tha clip An dust bring ya ass on Kickin dust on ya head as tha gat busts my grip surrounded I'm about ta get rushed I brushed wit death How many shells stuffed in my closet (???) (Chorus) (B-Real) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (when tha ship goes down) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (when tha ship goes down) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (when tha ship goes down) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (ya better be ready) Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down (B-Real) I told tha boyz get tha sawed off glock And tha rest of tha gats as I strapped on tha bullet-proof vest BOOM I think I got one to tha chest hot damn I didn't want to kill a man Shit I still stand tall with tha hill clan y'all Better stand back niggaz bout ta fall I'm comin out blastin like Yosemite Sam Get tha cheese an tha bread for tha ham (Chorus) (B-Real) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (when tha ship goes down) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (when tha ship goes down) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (when tha ship goes down) When tha ship goes down ya better be ready (ya better be ready) Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down Goin down, goin down |
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from Cypress Hill - Dr. Creenthumb [single] (1999)
(Intro: Barron Ricks)
That's right nigga, dynamic duo style, what? Green horn in a cadle style motherf**ker (Barron Ricks) Oh shit, my styles' progress like hot sex upon a firm matress But limit the techniques to get freak Now look at me, Cavarsay, Cognac, VS'll be puffin' the don-deago Macanoodle, out armadayo (B-Real) Yayo, up, ready to sell and bail, we niggas afrail (Post-dated, put 'em in the mail nigga) I'm the hill figure, deliver your body to the river (uh) How you feelin' (how you), how you livin' (how you), how you breathin' (Barron Ricks) F**k it, whatever's clever, fort and sex and def or real I got your back Which ever Squadron you attack yo I attack I got my automated Mossberg, hand on the pump ready to dump, so yo we gettin' dum-de-de-dum-dum-dum (B-Real) Dum-de-de-dum, when they hearin' the gats hum like a siren Niggas they be, barkin' and whilin' Thuggin' in stylin', holdin' the dope smilin' Yo, smooth, what you pilin' up, go make a move (Barron Ricks) Yo, path for Central Harlem where niggas be sparkin' son I beg your pardon Ese rollin', if you got it, pass it to the margin If you want it greedy, come and get it Aiyyo, we got it, Cypress, Cannibus Seeteeva, f**kin' freak of shit (B-Real) Motherf**kers refuse to loose my whole crew, don't get it confused Don't light a fuse or get bruised Like a gat I'll have to bust your ass or feel the blast of the shot glass full of jack and smokin' hash (Chorus: B-Real) (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) It be that Cypress Hill shit (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) Handle this, y'all can't f**k with this (B-Real) Back up in the mills of the Cypress Hill You catchin' a thrill, coppin' a feel, the whole steel Everybody put their blunts up in the sky Cause everybody's sparkin' the dutches and gettin' high (Barron Ricks) At 1-5-5, the city bread it, exit, got that method Yo, what y'all infected, we crashin' fords ain't no substitutions Me and B-Real want all our restitution's that means our back pays so niggas pay up Now, what the F**K!! (B-Real) I'm an addict, addicted to static and bad habits Bringin' the magic, opposite the Nina Milli Automatic War is war, a battles' a battle, the gat'll be your friend It'll be your end, it'll be your shadow (Barron Ricks) Now y'all shadowboxinists, irrational, rap new recruitin' dirty denim, timb boots, hummin', gunnin' for his competition Listen yo, we all be on that trivial don't change shit lame shit, Cypress is all about the Mary Jane shit (B-Real) No competition can handle the whole mission Bitches are wishin' me on but they won't last long Family ties are fly, do you do or die You try to escape, all the visions up in your mind (Chorus: B-Real) (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) It be that Cypress Hill shit (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) Handle this, y'all can't f**k with this |
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| from Cypress Hill - Dr. Creenthumb [single] (1999) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Dr. Creenthumb [single] (1999) | |||||
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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4:53 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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4:37 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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4:37 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Don't let nobody treat me like crap I'm pullin heads off sharp and smack em off francs The best in these days I smoke on these tracks Gonna mash your plan for holdin me back Jump up rush the office with the gat Lettin the niggaz see where my mind is at Hurry up to the walls see how I react But I keep comin back and that's for a fact I got the beef, but no road I got dropped And take each day the bullshit don't stop Got to act with the man cause I don't suck cock No matter how bad I wanna get to the top The music go out like a fuckin lot With the key and the dat I rap and just stop Come and see me on a Soul Assas trip Hittin stage, generate, pumpin all that lip (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) If y'all ever need help I don't wait And I come from some shit that's put away I hit these suckers that think they so great Still a nigga die, so they can update No matter how you try you'll always be fate Breakin off chunks off of what I create I see that liquorice all over your face Back-stab a nigga in the mist of the chase Fuck the bullshit let's get to the bottom Stompin punk styles, agein rock got em Only thing I don't wanna say when I drop em Loadin my shells so don't try to hock em Hittin the heat with the jig-ass beats Bite my style, is the only way to compete Smoke anybody if I ever lop heat And anybody else that wanna fuck with me (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) I sing funky-ass shit that I bring Fly likes a lot when I do my thing Check it out y'all ain't no one nicer Got it goin on with the mighty wanna cipher Got a women crazy, when I beg And hip-hop styles with the SX-10 Trust no one ain't nobody your friend Cause this business hear all about to end Don't mean comin back when they bust the raps And all the little things of the nicer tracks Hangin out in the uniform Keep what I'm doin here all night long Is to keep it goin, bring the thunder and pain Ain't bitches same since I went insane Fuckin with these bitches up in this game To the depicts, drain on my FUCKIN TRAIN (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! |
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3:09 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Don't let nobody treat me like crap I'm pullin heads off sharp and smack em off francs The best in these days I smoke on these tracks Gonna mash your plan for holdin me back Jump up rush the office with the gat Lettin the niggaz see where my mind is at Hurry up to the walls see how I react But I keep comin back and that's for a fact I got the beef, but no road I got dropped And take each day the bullshit don't stop Got to act with the man cause I don't suck cock No matter how bad I wanna get to the top The music go out like a fuckin lot With the key and the dat I rap and just stop Come and see me on a Soul Assas trip Hittin stage, generate, pumpin all that lip (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) If y'all ever need help I don't wait And I come from some shit that's put away I hit these suckers that think they so great Still a nigga die, so they can update No matter how you try you'll always be fate Breakin off chunks off of what I create I see that liquorice all over your face Back-stab a nigga in the mist of the chase Fuck the bullshit let's get to the bottom Stompin punk styles, agein rock got em Only thing I don't wanna say when I drop em Loadin my shells so don't try to hock em Hittin the heat with the jig-ass beats Bite my style, is the only way to compete Smoke anybody if I ever lop heat And anybody else that wanna fuck with me (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) I sing funky-ass shit that I bring Fly likes a lot when I do my thing Check it out y'all ain't no one nicer Got it goin on with the mighty wanna cipher Got a women crazy, when I beg And hip-hop styles with the SX-10 Trust no one ain't nobody your friend Cause this business hear all about to end Don't mean comin back when they bust the raps And all the little things of the nicer tracks Hangin out in the uniform Keep what I'm doin here all night long Is to keep it goin, bring the thunder and pain Ain't bitches same since I went insane Fuckin with these bitches up in this game To the depicts, drain on my FUCKIN TRAIN (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! |
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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Get ready motherfuckers!
You can't fuck with the [spanish] Please no interruptions Your crew pull up guns get waxed in the sun Like my rag top six-five Smash you with the switches The hitch is, you're gettin too big for your britches Why you runnin like bitches With your tail up, I'm the thug pirate Put the sail up - your whole crew frail, what You want this joint, suck it inhale nut Niggas are feelin' this track in Braile, huh We're grade A while you motherfuckers fail, what You understand, immitators gotta bail up To all the males and females gangin' up All on my cell phone talkin' shit, hangin' up I gotta show you how a nigga bang it up Slangin' cuts [Chorus:] Your squad against mine You're minor leagues with major Detail the plans like verse Hit hard, catch you off guard Another Victory I slay rappers with precision I got vision like Anakin You panicin' I'm leavin you stiffer than a mannequin My high lyrics constantly brain damagin' Brandishin' a fire arm, still managin' Hurt niggas, bandagin' who give my lyrics That play like a mandalin I hold my mic like my dick, but you handlin' I kill flows on tracks who abandonin' I eat you like pussy, then take a sample, Then spit fire in the places you standin' in I take a fool to the Hill Light a candle then you in the dark stuck part in the scandalin' Now I see your whole brain's scramblin' Don't like what you hear, change the channel then nigga [Chorus] I spark cells of a rhythm You best listen, get it over with Stolen shit, rollin it, Cypress ownin' it Bitin' niggas clonin it, I got a dog got a bone to pick, you holdin' it Suck it hard swallow easy, put a soul in it Your body's on the floor, head got a hole in it The weed master, rhyme killer, mic controllin' it You still fuckin' but your wack, ain't throwin' it Stepped in shit, now your chillin' all alone in it Head full of hair, still ain't combin' it Five child in the world who's ropin' it Never know if i'm high or i'm throwin' shit I got you stuck in the Twilight Zone on shit I'm the owner of the fat joint you rollin' with, bitch [Chorus] |
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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Get ready motherfuckers!
You can't fuck with the [spanish] Please no interruptions Your crew pull up guns get waxed in the sun Like my rag top six-five Smash you with the switches The hitch is, you're gettin too big for your britches Why you runnin like bitches With your tail up, I'm the thug pirate Put the sail up - your whole crew frail, what You want this joint, suck it inhale nut Niggas are feelin' this track in Braile, huh We're grade A while you motherfuckers fail, what You understand, immitators gotta bail up To all the males and females gangin' up All on my cell phone talkin' shit, hangin' up I gotta show you how a nigga bang it up Slangin' cuts [Chorus:] Your squad against mine You're minor leagues with major Detail the plans like verse Hit hard, catch you off guard Another Victory I slay rappers with precision I got vision like Anakin You panicin' I'm leavin you stiffer than a mannequin My high lyrics constantly brain damagin' Brandishin' a fire arm, still managin' Hurt niggas, bandagin' who give my lyrics That play like a mandalin I hold my mic like my dick, but you handlin' I kill flows on tracks who abandonin' I eat you like pussy, then take a sample, Then spit fire in the places you standin' in I take a fool to the Hill Light a candle then you in the dark stuck part in the scandalin' Now I see your whole brain's scramblin' Don't like what you hear, change the channel then nigga [Chorus] I spark cells of a rhythm You best listen, get it over with Stolen shit, rollin it, Cypress ownin' it Bitin' niggas clonin it, I got a dog got a bone to pick, you holdin' it Suck it hard swallow easy, put a soul in it Your body's on the floor, head got a hole in it The weed master, rhyme killer, mic controllin' it You still fuckin' but your wack, ain't throwin' it Stepped in shit, now your chillin' all alone in it Head full of hair, still ain't combin' it Five child in the world who's ropin' it Never know if i'm high or i'm throwin' shit I got you stuck in the Twilight Zone on shit I'm the owner of the fat joint you rollin' with, bitch [Chorus] |
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2:47 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Handle it, handle it
You know, motherfuckers need to have some weed etiquete True, true You see, motherfuckers try to come up and bogard your weed At the club, and they don't wanna share theirs Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats in background 6X) (B-Real) You know I hate it when I roll a joint and give it to somebody Who ain't got weed but they wanna be up in the party Laughin and gigglin, sippin on a Heinie Son you need a Tic Tac your breath is gonna blind me Talkin about you wanna hit, spittin in my eardrum Oh you new in the cypher, step to the rear son Still they manage to hit it, and put they grip on it That's when they wet the tip and put they lips on it Then when you get it, forget it, it's been wetted Who gonna hit it now, not me, you got me Thinkin about these fuckin jokers, double tokers Smokers who hit it like they suckin a dick, fuckers Flippin it, lovin it, smokin it to the head Givin it to me half way down, "thanks again" Then when you see 'em later smokin they own stash When you ask 'em for a hit, they say, "sorry this is my last" I shared some with you, "Sorry that's not my problem Talk to the hand but I got plenty if you wanna buy some" These people piss me off, this is true indeed But nothin's worse when someone's askin for some weed What do I look like a tree where the bud grows Here pick my left nut and smoke it in the bol Or better grow your own leave mine alone Here I'll give you a clone now raise up outta my zone I know I got the best weed, but don't make me Make your burnt chest bleed what you need Is weed etiquette, please don't be offended Cuz the weed costs money I'm the one who has to spend it And that's just the way it is man Y'all motherfuckers need to learn You just can't come, askin for some shit and not givin none in return What the fuck is that man? We goin into 2000 motherfucker You need to learn how to smoke some weed with people Pass it to the left motherfuckers Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats to the end) |
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2:47 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Handle it, handle it
You know, motherfuckers need to have some weed etiquete True, true You see, motherfuckers try to come up and bogard your weed At the club, and they don't wanna share theirs Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats in background 6X) (B-Real) You know I hate it when I roll a joint and give it to somebody Who ain't got weed but they wanna be up in the party Laughin and gigglin, sippin on a Heinie Son you need a Tic Tac your breath is gonna blind me Talkin about you wanna hit, spittin in my eardrum Oh you new in the cypher, step to the rear son Still they manage to hit it, and put they grip on it That's when they wet the tip and put they lips on it Then when you get it, forget it, it's been wetted Who gonna hit it now, not me, you got me Thinkin about these fuckin jokers, double tokers Smokers who hit it like they suckin a dick, fuckers Flippin it, lovin it, smokin it to the head Givin it to me half way down, "thanks again" Then when you see 'em later smokin they own stash When you ask 'em for a hit, they say, "sorry this is my last" I shared some with you, "Sorry that's not my problem Talk to the hand but I got plenty if you wanna buy some" These people piss me off, this is true indeed But nothin's worse when someone's askin for some weed What do I look like a tree where the bud grows Here pick my left nut and smoke it in the bol Or better grow your own leave mine alone Here I'll give you a clone now raise up outta my zone I know I got the best weed, but don't make me Make your burnt chest bleed what you need Is weed etiquette, please don't be offended Cuz the weed costs money I'm the one who has to spend it And that's just the way it is man Y'all motherfuckers need to learn You just can't come, askin for some shit and not givin none in return What the fuck is that man? We goin into 2000 motherfucker You need to learn how to smoke some weed with people Pass it to the left motherfuckers Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats to the end) |
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4:15 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Hell nah You can't handle a man of my superior strength I've been rockin for years, now it's time to go to length Bitin emcees in their tracks I stop em My rhyme style ?makin turn dropper? My concepts come sick like Dennis Hopper I jack fools up and stick em like dirty coppers Like I said before I'm takin you lame whores Down to the phone, knock his ass on your good balls Only one way to deal with these softies Take they ass out like heroes and they flossin And when you tell me you better bring styles Cause mine can go on and on and on for miles (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (B-Real) Five roll with the weakest What you need is ?the chrome plated heater So you can peep this Tragedy had to be in your mind soakin in Sad to see you broken down Not at least broken in Can't stop some hill shit >From comin though The reality is out with the old And with the new Ways and things change With strange ?haids? of braids shade? Switch place life and life plays with ?thumb pain? Does and untrues, the mobb leaves no clues In the dark confused, we choose to eat you Out the whole stroke away so I can listen-a We don't stop if you can't fuck commissioner (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (Sen Dog) Nigga get up on a rhymin (???) Takin out crews who think they are baddest Mad dog Sen for real is the maddest Fuck you punk and you're A&R status I stand in a zone though I'm never alone B-Real got my back checkin at your dome So when it comes down to who's (Spanish) I'm down for the pound and slangin the (Spanish) (Whole line in Spanish) Gonna make a move and smoke your fuckin hot-show Remove that sucker and the wack-ass shit Cause every time I see he's actin like a bitch So let's get it straight I smoke the competition Breakin down fools in my muthafuckin mission One by one they'll all come out missin You can't fuck with this here kid I ain't bitchin (Chorus) (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me |
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4:15 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Hell nah You can't handle a man of my superior strength I've been rockin for years, now it's time to go to length Bitin emcees in their tracks I stop em My rhyme style ?makin turn dropper? My concepts come sick like Dennis Hopper I jack fools up and stick em like dirty coppers Like I said before I'm takin you lame whores Down to the phone, knock his ass on your good balls Only one way to deal with these softies Take they ass out like heroes and they flossin And when you tell me you better bring styles Cause mine can go on and on and on for miles (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (B-Real) Five roll with the weakest What you need is ?the chrome plated heater So you can peep this Tragedy had to be in your mind soakin in Sad to see you broken down Not at least broken in Can't stop some hill shit >From comin though The reality is out with the old And with the new Ways and things change With strange ?haids? of braids shade? Switch place life and life plays with ?thumb pain? Does and untrues, the mobb leaves no clues In the dark confused, we choose to eat you Out the whole stroke away so I can listen-a We don't stop if you can't fuck commissioner (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (Sen Dog) Nigga get up on a rhymin (???) Takin out crews who think they are baddest Mad dog Sen for real is the maddest Fuck you punk and you're A&R status I stand in a zone though I'm never alone B-Real got my back checkin at your dome So when it comes down to who's (Spanish) I'm down for the pound and slangin the (Spanish) (Whole line in Spanish) Gonna make a move and smoke your fuckin hot-show Remove that sucker and the wack-ass shit Cause every time I see he's actin like a bitch So let's get it straight I smoke the competition Breakin down fools in my muthafuckin mission One by one they'll all come out missin You can't fuck with this here kid I ain't bitchin (Chorus) (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me |
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4:01 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
Call me the serial rhyme killer Mic-cord strangling, mangling, tangling, you in the web nigga Your head is dangling off of your shoulders Cause my mic told me to do it cause you wasn't a true soldier Fake bustas get hit with the clusterbomb You're a hotdog with no mustard, you're flusterd, I'm calm Spit heat like a fucking dragon, bagging you up Tagging you toe, zipping you up Clipping you up, mic-cord tripping you up You're in the dark with no light and wishing a nigga had lit you up So much for wishful thinking, you're body's stinking You're sinking into the hole and I'm at the top winking at ya [Sen-Dog] Don't play me too close I'm a certified bomb Designed to designate all over the tape Got my Cuban Puertoricans all up in the place Gonna smash you in the face with tapes check it out [B-Real] Call me imperial beatslayer All prayers try to be advisory to rivalry in the battle player Bitches who lie to me and cry to me use bribery I'm taking the torch and burn Puffy-music for canivalry That'll teach you I beat you on every plain Ain't no other way to reach you, I reach you with pain Shred you into pieces using the tigerclaw I'm a cold nigga you need more than a lighter to thaw Me and my lyrical Iceberg suckers are panic Fuck what you head I brought down the Titanic So can it and shut it, I wrote it and bust it because it never gonna be safe for wack niggas I don't trust 'em [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Call me superior showstopper, your hiphop legacy Claim us to remember we break you off proper Oh you got a short memory? You wanna render me? Harmless and surrender me for the fucking enemy? I won't let ya I bet ya I reign supreme Make your fans forget ya search ya in front of your team Make a nigga smoke a ounce and bounce over the rhythem And hit em and get another suck and hit em with venom Nigga my name is Sen and I'm real while you're pretending Suckers with no style I hope you get offended So I can lock your ass up with my jawclutches Then my rhymes will catch you cause they're sharp like Tony Touch's [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Yeah, that's right y'all Gonna smash you in the face Who be comming on touching me, getting around me I'm a bomb you know what I'm saying I'm ready to go off you know what I'm saying So many motherfuckers out there talking shit, doing their little thing It's cool you know what I'm saying, go ahead make you money But don't you be comming around me perplexing playing like a bitch You know what I'm saying Cause I can see your ass right through you know what I'm saying You're glass homeyboy, you're glass you know what I'm saying Don't play me too close y'all I don't think I like you too much you know what I'm saying Always kicking it, doing what we do Trying to act like us, trying to sound like us You're playing me too close motherfucker You need too step the fuck on back Take your ass on back to wherever the fuck you come from You're playing me way way too close you know what I'm saying |
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4:01 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
Call me the serial rhyme killer Mic-cord strangling, mangling, tangling, you in the web nigga Your head is dangling off of your shoulders Cause my mic told me to do it cause you wasn't a true soldier Fake bustas get hit with the clusterbomb You're a hotdog with no mustard, you're flusterd, I'm calm Spit heat like a fucking dragon, bagging you up Tagging you toe, zipping you up Clipping you up, mic-cord tripping you up You're in the dark with no light and wishing a nigga had lit you up So much for wishful thinking, you're body's stinking You're sinking into the hole and I'm at the top winking at ya [Sen-Dog] Don't play me too close I'm a certified bomb Designed to designate all over the tape Got my Cuban Puertoricans all up in the place Gonna smash you in the face with tapes check it out [B-Real] Call me imperial beatslayer All prayers try to be advisory to rivalry in the battle player Bitches who lie to me and cry to me use bribery I'm taking the torch and burn Puffy-music for canivalry That'll teach you I beat you on every plain Ain't no other way to reach you, I reach you with pain Shred you into pieces using the tigerclaw I'm a cold nigga you need more than a lighter to thaw Me and my lyrical Iceberg suckers are panic Fuck what you head I brought down the Titanic So can it and shut it, I wrote it and bust it because it never gonna be safe for wack niggas I don't trust 'em [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Call me superior showstopper, your hiphop legacy Claim us to remember we break you off proper Oh you got a short memory? You wanna render me? Harmless and surrender me for the fucking enemy? I won't let ya I bet ya I reign supreme Make your fans forget ya search ya in front of your team Make a nigga smoke a ounce and bounce over the rhythem And hit em and get another suck and hit em with venom Nigga my name is Sen and I'm real while you're pretending Suckers with no style I hope you get offended So I can lock your ass up with my jawclutches Then my rhymes will catch you cause they're sharp like Tony Touch's [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Yeah, that's right y'all Gonna smash you in the face Who be comming on touching me, getting around me I'm a bomb you know what I'm saying I'm ready to go off you know what I'm saying So many motherfuckers out there talking shit, doing their little thing It's cool you know what I'm saying, go ahead make you money But don't you be comming around me perplexing playing like a bitch You know what I'm saying Cause I can see your ass right through you know what I'm saying You're glass homeyboy, you're glass you know what I'm saying Don't play me too close y'all I don't think I like you too much you know what I'm saying Always kicking it, doing what we do Trying to act like us, trying to sound like us You're playing me too close motherfucker You need too step the fuck on back Take your ass on back to wherever the fuck you come from You're playing me way way too close you know what I'm saying |
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4:13 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Sen Dog:
Ya esta dicho, esta hecho en la sangre de todos los criminales del grupo de Cypress Hill ¡pa' que sepan! Estamos en tu cara otra vez y no nos vamos a ir en tu ??? [Verse 1] I do it to ya all like in your earhole, cuz I'ma "Goodfella" just like De Niro, punk I'm a ten, you just a fucking zero, huh I get your woman off like Robbie Shapiro, what? You want jellyroll son, I'm a hero, oh You're on your knees on my dick like a clit hoe then You say you hate me but you follow my career though huh Wanna see a trick? I make you disappear yo, yo I make it hotter than a fuckin' inferno Wanna test you comin' up shorter than DeVito I'll scar your face when I cut you like Pacino You gamble with your life inside of my Casino Hold up I'm runnin' shit just like Gambino I got the hogs sweatin' more than Bob Barino I switch tongue cuando estas en mi camino Then I switch it back cuz in that style I swing yo' Beat your head like a drum yeah, a todo ritmo I sit back simply pretend I'm Ringo Slay you any style yeah whatever type of lingo I'm a natural killer like Tarantino, yeah [HOOK] Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 2] Call me breakin' think you know my nigga Dino With the Ratpack nigga sippin' on vino I give it to you double XXL like Chino I'm the eastsidah who's reppin' Angelino's I know you trippin' but I'm due another single, ha Treat the music like my honey got a wrinkle, yeah I'm the mushroom making people tickle You couldn't hang with a joint from Domingo's So, you gotta make room when you hear my jingle Like I crack your head with the bat, big Bambino style (boomya!) You smoked out there in San Bernadino We fuck shit up with the hardcore estilo (Bandido!) light your lighter then a kilo I'm Megatron got you wet like a Primo Cancerous rhyme now that you needin' chemo Peace to my fam out in El Cerrino That's right punk, it's the soul asesino Better watch your back, who's pilin' up cochinos? Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 3] Killin' niggas like a Sicilian named Gino When your numbers up all my nigga yell regal You a fine woman, was a fine Filipino, then She looked good in the black Benzino, yeah Yo' style's not yours like Doritos With the fabulous fall just like the Beatles Platinum dust oh now you wanna sprinkle, well I clown niggas much more than Melenko's, heh For all the wild ones and all my vecinos Never get your ass caught up with a stank hoe Pussy weigh deeper than a big fucking cinco Don't be mad I'm lookin out for my amigo You wanna copy my style? go to Kinko's Watch me, I'm reloaded, just like Carlito My style so dope they should label it illegal You want beef? then I call my nigga Steve-o Whip your ass up just like Niccoleo Sayin' my name burst your mark like "Tapatio!", punk You can't deal with it, you can't deal with it You can't deal with it, it's Cypress Hill with it Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Sen Dog: That's right comepingas, mira, oyeme te voy a decir una cosa: el Capitan Pingaloca no juega a ningun juego ¿sabes que? ¡Voy a venir con el machete a cortarte la cabeza hijo de puta! No me gustan estos maricones que vienen por aqui con el pecho saca'o, hablando cosas mierdas. Mira, maricon, te corto el corazon y me lo como y despues me echo un mojon con tu comida jajaja... pa' que sepas, asi son las cosas... ¿Como se dice?... ¡¡Revolucion compadre!! |
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4:13 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Sen Dog:
Ya esta dicho, esta hecho en la sangre de todos los criminales del grupo de Cypress Hill ¡pa' que sepan! Estamos en tu cara otra vez y no nos vamos a ir en tu ??? [Verse 1] I do it to ya all like in your earhole, cuz I'ma "Goodfella" just like De Niro, punk I'm a ten, you just a fucking zero, huh I get your woman off like Robbie Shapiro, what? You want jellyroll son, I'm a hero, oh You're on your knees on my dick like a clit hoe then You say you hate me but you follow my career though huh Wanna see a trick? I make you disappear yo, yo I make it hotter than a fuckin' inferno Wanna test you comin' up shorter than DeVito I'll scar your face when I cut you like Pacino You gamble with your life inside of my Casino Hold up I'm runnin' shit just like Gambino I got the hogs sweatin' more than Bob Barino I switch tongue cuando estas en mi camino Then I switch it back cuz in that style I swing yo' Beat your head like a drum yeah, a todo ritmo I sit back simply pretend I'm Ringo Slay you any style yeah whatever type of lingo I'm a natural killer like Tarantino, yeah [HOOK] Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 2] Call me breakin' think you know my nigga Dino With the Ratpack nigga sippin' on vino I give it to you double XXL like Chino I'm the eastsidah who's reppin' Angelino's I know you trippin' but I'm due another single, ha Treat the music like my honey got a wrinkle, yeah I'm the mushroom making people tickle You couldn't hang with a joint from Domingo's So, you gotta make room when you hear my jingle Like I crack your head with the bat, big Bambino style (boomya!) You smoked out there in San Bernadino We fuck shit up with the hardcore estilo (Bandido!) light your lighter then a kilo I'm Megatron got you wet like a Primo Cancerous rhyme now that you needin' chemo Peace to my fam out in El Cerrino That's right punk, it's the soul asesino Better watch your back, who's pilin' up cochinos? Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 3] Killin' niggas like a Sicilian named Gino When your numbers up all my nigga yell regal You a fine woman, was a fine Filipino, then She looked good in the black Benzino, yeah Yo' style's not yours like Doritos With the fabulous fall just like the Beatles Platinum dust oh now you wanna sprinkle, well I clown niggas much more than Melenko's, heh For all the wild ones and all my vecinos Never get your ass caught up with a stank hoe Pussy weigh deeper than a big fucking cinco Don't be mad I'm lookin out for my amigo You wanna copy my style? go to Kinko's Watch me, I'm reloaded, just like Carlito My style so dope they should label it illegal You want beef? then I call my nigga Steve-o Whip your ass up just like Niccoleo Sayin' my name burst your mark like "Tapatio!", punk You can't deal with it, you can't deal with it You can't deal with it, it's Cypress Hill with it Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Sen Dog: That's right comepingas, mira, oyeme te voy a decir una cosa: el Capitan Pingaloca no juega a ningun juego ¿sabes que? ¡Voy a venir con el machete a cortarte la cabeza hijo de puta! No me gustan estos maricones que vienen por aqui con el pecho saca'o, hablando cosas mierdas. Mira, maricon, te corto el corazon y me lo como y despues me echo un mojon con tu comida jajaja... pa' que sepas, asi son las cosas... ¿Como se dice?... ¡¡Revolucion compadre!! |
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3:54 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
When people stare at the scene like a machine of the team
looking for theme between cracks searching for cream physical image can never be lost never be cleverly read or took on into the search of your own suckers are looking for treasures and pleasures endeavours images of plastic material whenever your ready your steady rolling with deadly and friendly territorial glorious story you've heard nothing but bull for me Coming from ghetto the guero the heart in the metal settle for gas as we passing you fast in the pedal head to the floor and the horror is starting to pour everything I just threatened your blood you can't take it no more why did you try to forget it I said it to FUCK OFF!! now you'll be headed said I'm making you try to do laws that's what you get for faking it hot and no more living I'm sucker I'm pushing the bomb. (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. ???? is loaded with snakes serpents who come and they take pieces of those who they break bodies are found in the lake only the victims its pass you thought that you gonna last pockets all over the cash now that you're actually grass high kids taking and sliping away look at you tricking and sipping its clicking the trigger and so is your place only the strong will survive hoping to keep 'em alive I'll never be denied watch on who you can find People around and they're proud looking for those who obye dying like these killas defy so I keep up the withdrawl join fucking with the pace your just a waste in my face hit you in base in your case if all you want is a taste even the lemo the rebel bringing the metal in temple so many rebels incredible time we battle looking for action don't judge us avenge us redempt us don't give me negligence your all though in time no revenges (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. Under the heavens we representing directions of flesh and feeling the heat the tension now dissin' we stressin' life is a battle to the cattle you gonna die just how that'll just suffer your glad you built up your high and go up the chain the pages keep turning and burning the rage is concerning the day is becomming disarming searching for harmony you wanna be balling me but you never get no where cause I'm killing your whole philosophy Robbing like temperature I signal your flow when we just clowning just tell me just pass me watch me I'm truly tampering y'all must be simple delinquent to try to get what the sick is so leave the hard is to limp it and only the thrill will we get it? I'm an assasin of soul out of control when I roll you better hide in your hole I got your name on my skull there ain't no running from me assasin of hunees you see blastin at those who obye blasting at last at the weak! (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust |
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3:54 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
When people stare at the scene like a machine of the team
looking for theme between cracks searching for cream physical image can never be lost never be cleverly read or took on into the search of your own suckers are looking for treasures and pleasures endeavours images of plastic material whenever your ready your steady rolling with deadly and friendly territorial glorious story you've heard nothing but bull for me Coming from ghetto the guero the heart in the metal settle for gas as we passing you fast in the pedal head to the floor and the horror is starting to pour everything I just threatened your blood you can't take it no more why did you try to forget it I said it to FUCK OFF!! now you'll be headed said I'm making you try to do laws that's what you get for faking it hot and no more living I'm sucker I'm pushing the bomb. (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. ???? is loaded with snakes serpents who come and they take pieces of those who they break bodies are found in the lake only the victims its pass you thought that you gonna last pockets all over the cash now that you're actually grass high kids taking and sliping away look at you tricking and sipping its clicking the trigger and so is your place only the strong will survive hoping to keep 'em alive I'll never be denied watch on who you can find People around and they're proud looking for those who obye dying like these killas defy so I keep up the withdrawl join fucking with the pace your just a waste in my face hit you in base in your case if all you want is a taste even the lemo the rebel bringing the metal in temple so many rebels incredible time we battle looking for action don't judge us avenge us redempt us don't give me negligence your all though in time no revenges (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. Under the heavens we representing directions of flesh and feeling the heat the tension now dissin' we stressin' life is a battle to the cattle you gonna die just how that'll just suffer your glad you built up your high and go up the chain the pages keep turning and burning the rage is concerning the day is becomming disarming searching for harmony you wanna be balling me but you never get no where cause I'm killing your whole philosophy Robbing like temperature I signal your flow when we just clowning just tell me just pass me watch me I'm truly tampering y'all must be simple delinquent to try to get what the sick is so leave the hard is to limp it and only the thrill will we get it? I'm an assasin of soul out of control when I roll you better hide in your hole I got your name on my skull there ain't no running from me assasin of hunees you see blastin at those who obye blasting at last at the weak! (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust |
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3:30 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Get Out Of My Head
I can't see in the dark, but I see you Words don't come from your heart, but they get through Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me (chorus) Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart I thought it was love But there's love and there's love So get out of my head and get into my heart Not much more I can do than what I've done You shot me through the heart without a gun Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me Chorus Instrumental Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me Chorus Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart |
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3:30 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Get Out Of My Head
I can't see in the dark, but I see you Words don't come from your heart, but they get through Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me (chorus) Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart I thought it was love But there's love and there's love So get out of my head and get into my heart Not much more I can do than what I've done You shot me through the heart without a gun Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me Chorus Instrumental Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me Chorus Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart |
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3:52 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
I rolled you up like my Rizla Cut you up, with my sisters You wanna get us - yeah, the venom spitters Your style's trash: don't litter You got the jitters the hardhitters No quitters your soul quivers When you see the gats blazin, get out the street now There ain't no use for you beggin to turn the heat down You label me coldblooded You wanna warm me up with hot lead the gat thudded You can't cut it You wack, but it's - no use your mouth shut it Shootin arrows diamond-studded, and still budded You got to love it, you better chase the paper all day So you can walk down the long platinum hallway But now the fools are minutemade; they get played for a minute then played out they never get back in it Gun park I bring chalk for your body outlined on the floor You got hit by the 4-4! [Chorus: B-Real] You're in the game called life, son - how you're livin it Street corner kids growin up blowin up You chase dreams you want the highlife, with the skylights But in the end your soul's lost, you lost the shine right Never turn your back ever, on niggaz true to you Stand alone for the cheddar - and they'll be through with you The highlife; yeah, the highlife The highlife; yeah, the highlife [B-Real] You gotta hang out with B. Reezy, and take it easy It's gettin greasy, I had to learn how to beat me That's when you go for dolo, and get your meal ticket And still kick it hardcore I'm runnin real with it Niggaz getting softcore, the people want more hardcore shit that's why I give them an encore Curtains opened, you see the people applaud feelin it You can't figure out the formula so you're stealin it Can't stand unoriginal cats with minimal skills that's criminal - you fake bitches! You're lookin for riches, in the wrong places The faces of death look you in the eye cut off your breath When you fall feel your knees shatter The bones breakin with your weak blatter Pissin on yourself it don't matter Dead weight, the bed waits for you on the set date Dreams gone instead fate didn't hesitate to put you away, close the gates now you're locked out Your life: cable, with all the porn channels blocked out (damn!) What you good for? Nothin, so be gone suckers Have a nice trip see you motherfuckers! [Chorus] [Sen Dog] I live for the highlife, get my mind right Fuck the fame, the game and the limelights Fools that be out there tryin to duplicate But they can't match the aura, can't impersonate See the first things that comes to pass, is the blast of the Cypress Hill weed funk blazin up a path You can't help, but inhale and get strong You need that good shit all up in your lungs I live fast, and keep energy in motion Jah bless, so I feel I been chosen But I know, (?) of he who conquers You gotta come strong and sound off like thunder I check myself and make sure I'm comin real tight Rhyme for my fam, the G's and the highlife [B-Real] The highlife - hah, hah The highlife yeah [Chorus] |
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3:52 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
I rolled you up like my Rizla Cut you up, with my sisters You wanna get us - yeah, the venom spitters Your style's trash: don't litter You got the jitters the hardhitters No quitters your soul quivers When you see the gats blazin, get out the street now There ain't no use for you beggin to turn the heat down You label me coldblooded You wanna warm me up with hot lead the gat thudded You can't cut it You wack, but it's - no use your mouth shut it Shootin arrows diamond-studded, and still budded You got to love it, you better chase the paper all day So you can walk down the long platinum hallway But now the fools are minutemade; they get played for a minute then played out they never get back in it Gun park I bring chalk for your body outlined on the floor You got hit by the 4-4! [Chorus: B-Real] You're in the game called life, son - how you're livin it Street corner kids growin up blowin up You chase dreams you want the highlife, with the skylights But in the end your soul's lost, you lost the shine right Never turn your back ever, on niggaz true to you Stand alone for the cheddar - and they'll be through with you The highlife; yeah, the highlife The highlife; yeah, the highlife [B-Real] You gotta hang out with B. Reezy, and take it easy It's gettin greasy, I had to learn how to beat me That's when you go for dolo, and get your meal ticket And still kick it hardcore I'm runnin real with it Niggaz getting softcore, the people want more hardcore shit that's why I give them an encore Curtains opened, you see the people applaud feelin it You can't figure out the formula so you're stealin it Can't stand unoriginal cats with minimal skills that's criminal - you fake bitches! You're lookin for riches, in the wrong places The faces of death look you in the eye cut off your breath When you fall feel your knees shatter The bones breakin with your weak blatter Pissin on yourself it don't matter Dead weight, the bed waits for you on the set date Dreams gone instead fate didn't hesitate to put you away, close the gates now you're locked out Your life: cable, with all the porn channels blocked out (damn!) What you good for? Nothin, so be gone suckers Have a nice trip see you motherfuckers! [Chorus] [Sen Dog] I live for the highlife, get my mind right Fuck the fame, the game and the limelights Fools that be out there tryin to duplicate But they can't match the aura, can't impersonate See the first things that comes to pass, is the blast of the Cypress Hill weed funk blazin up a path You can't help, but inhale and get strong You need that good shit all up in your lungs I live fast, and keep energy in motion Jah bless, so I feel I been chosen But I know, (?) of he who conquers You gotta come strong and sound off like thunder I check myself and make sure I'm comin real tight Rhyme for my fam, the G's and the highlife [B-Real] The highlife - hah, hah The highlife yeah [Chorus] |
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1:52 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Cypress
Cypress Cypress Cypress Cypress Cypress Cypress Hill Cypress Hill Uh Cypress Come on Cypress Uh Cypress Hill Come on Cypress Hill Come one Cypress Uh That's right Don't touch that dial |
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1:52 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Cypress
Cypress Cypress Cypress Cypress Cypress Cypress Hill Cypress Hill Uh Cypress Come on Cypress Uh Cypress Hill Come on Cypress Hill Come one Cypress Uh That's right Don't touch that dial |
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4:10 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[Sen Dog]
Esto es un poquito del poder del grupo Cypress Hill Sabes lo que te digo? Te voy a dar un poquito sabor Y empiezaaaaa assii!!... [B-Real] Hey corre ese, borrate Por que viene la hoota, siempre carga fusca Buscando a la mas filosa clicka La famosa Cypress Hill rifa Todos los vatos salen, estan en la calle Tirense cabrones, si me ven manejar Con los que me junto Con un Magnum quebrando unos putos Puro cholo loco empaca cromo Y te llenamos el saco de plomo Como te puedo hacer entender? (How I could just kill a man?)... Chorus x4: Como te puedo hacer entender? (How I could just kill a man?) [Sen Dog] No le pongo mente a estos pendejos No voy a gastar tiempo Yo te dejo, yo no doy hueco Mira, mis 2 canones Tumbo los cabrones...!!! [B-Real] Traiganme la accion, yo les traigo a tragazon Mis palabras son ataques sin razon Va tu satelite vision Ense?ste un violenta ciclon Hago un ejemplo de todos los pendejos (Y te dejo todo chueco!!!) La chota entro a mi canton Un maton narco pistolon Cubrete guey! o te mato Porque siempre quiebra al mas macizo vato No quisiera matarlo, pero si lo hizo ... cuerpo en el piso (Te dejo todo chueco!!!) Chorus [B-Real] Chingole el tiempo para que termine Las misiones que estableci Empiece, me fumo yerba verde Aveces tumbo gente Vi que un maniaco queria tu carro Crees que la chota te va hacer un paro? No, creo que te vas a parar Y comenzar a cuetear, disparar Mueve puro fierro... Y te deja todo chueco... Como me vas a entender si balazos no te ha llovido? Entiendes lo que digo? Cuando ta de maton, cierro tu canton Por aqui se pone cabron Por el dinero, barrio peleonero Muchas veces robos dejan entierros... Chorus All I wanted was a Pepsi... |
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5:10 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Once again, ha ha ha We back, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha (B-Real) Now all these new nigas tryin to bust grips Keep tryin, I'm shittin all over yo tapes And yo CDs, you see these Niggas wit the weed leaves, you need these Hill biggas to bust trigga, sicka sicka The rhyme spitter spittin over the transmittor I got double platinum records on the wall While you got double cheeseburgers in yo toilet stall Cats wanna try me, you must be high Cause you havin fuckin +Illusions+, no lie, what you usin? Gimme some of that shit (shit), you fakin it Any little title you got, I'm takin it You can't have it, you didn't earn it Spit on yo name, shit on it, and burn it Suckas wanna floss and play the big boss What movie you livin in and how much did it cost? What role are you playin? I'm only sayin You're the record gettin played and I'm DJ'in Playin you, playin you, and playin you Decayin you, I'm tyin and breakin you (ah ha ha) (Chorus: B-Real (Sen Dog)) You're a weak ass hoe Punk slow yo role You're nothin but a clone With nothin to show You're a weak ass hoe Need a style of your own You're a weak ass hoe You're a weak ass hoe (Punk ass nigga) Leave me alone (Carbon copyin muthafucka) Punk nigga wit no flow (You ain't shit) You're a weak ass hoe (Fuck your little record, punk) You're a weak ass hoe (Eat a dick) (B-Real) Now look at her over there (damn), lookin all fine Shakin her ass, tellin me to grab from behind Please don't mind me, you'll find me Rollin the pine trees, women askin to sign these Well OK, but you're gonna get me in trouble Nice ones, I gotta be out on the double I'll be in that corner table wit my homies Gettin stoney tryin to avoid the phonies Huh, what you askin? Do I got plastic To buy you and yo friends drinks? Do I have assets? Do I got a big home? Do I live alone? Can I use yo cell phone?, feelin my bone She wanna ride me, she wanna tie me Around her tiny little finger and ride me blindly I don't think so, you stink, hoe The chain in yo brain is missin a link, hoe Please back up, I know you look good But that ain't enough to get half of my stuff, bitch (ah ha ha, that's right, you're a stank hoe!) (Chorus: B-Real (Sen Dog)) You're a stank ass hoe Tryin to get dough Leave me alone Cause you can't roll You're a stank ass hoe Nut ridin pro You're a stank ass hoe A stank ass hoe Leave me alone (Broke ass hoodrat) You can't roll (You can't roll) You're a stank ass hoe A stank ass hoe (Stank ass hoe) You're a stank ass hoe (Dick suckin tramp) (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) (Bring it back homie, come on, huh) (B-Real) Here goes another example to begin it With a twist (yeah) like pussy I'm in it When I look at me, I look and see How long it took for you to throw the book at me Damn that shit hurts, but I put in work These niggas are like germs, over the counter they lurk And smirk when you fall down, but I calm down And put the anti-bacterial assault down Kill germs that wanna test, they want the best Comparin you to me is like a nigga to the cess Never settle for stress, or wack rappers I'm rockin the outta the West and rockin the East (?) (Chorus: B-Real (Sen Dog)) (Punk ass nigga) You're a bitch ass hoe Knockin on my door Leave me alone Cause you got no soul You're a bitch ass hoe (Trick ass hoe) Need to find a place to go You're a bitch ass hoe (Punk ass niggas) You're a bitch ass hoe Don't touch the microphone You're a bitch ass hoe (Eat a muthafuckin dick) You're a bitch ass hoe Leave me alone Got no place to go You're a bitch ass hoe (Trick ass hoe) (humming) |
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5:10 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Once again, ha ha ha We back, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha (B-Real) Now all these new nigas tryin to bust grips Keep tryin, I'm shittin all over yo tapes And yo CDs, you see these Niggas wit the weed leaves, you need these Hill biggas to bust trigga, sicka sicka The rhyme spitter spittin over the transmittor I got double platinum records on the wall While you got double cheeseburgers in yo toilet stall Cats wanna try me, you must be high Cause you havin fuckin +Illusions+, no lie, what you usin? Gimme some of that shit (shit), you fakin it Any little title you got, I'm takin it You can't have it, you didn't earn it Spit on yo name, shit on it, and burn it Suckas wanna floss and play the big boss What movie you livin in and how much did it cost? What role are you playin? I'm only sayin You're the record gettin played and I'm DJ'in Playin you, playin you, and playin you Decayin you, I'm tyin and breakin you (ah ha ha) (Chorus: B-Real (Sen Dog)) You're a weak ass hoe Punk slow yo role You're nothin but a clone With nothin to show You're a weak ass hoe Need a style of your own You're a weak ass hoe You're a weak ass hoe (Punk ass nigga) Leave me alone (Carbon copyin muthafucka) Punk nigga wit no flow (You ain't shit) You're a weak ass hoe (Fuck your little record, punk) You're a weak ass hoe (Eat a dick) (B-Real) Now look at her over there (damn), lookin all fine Shakin her ass, tellin me to grab from behind Please don't mind me, you'll find me Rollin the pine trees, women askin to sign these Well OK, but you're gonna get me in trouble Nice ones, I gotta be out on the double I'll be in that corner table wit my homies Gettin stoney tryin to avoid the phonies Huh, what you askin? Do I got plastic To buy you and yo friends drinks? Do I have assets? Do I got a big home? Do I live alone? Can I use yo cell phone?, feelin my bone She wanna ride me, she wanna tie me Around her tiny little finger and ride me blindly I don't think so, you stink, hoe The chain in yo brain is missin a link, hoe Please back up, I know you look good But that ain't enough to get half of my stuff, bitch (ah ha ha, that's right, you're a stank hoe!) (Chorus: B-Real (Sen Dog)) You're a stank ass hoe Tryin to get dough Leave me alone Cause you can't roll You're a stank ass hoe Nut ridin pro You're a stank ass hoe A stank ass hoe Leave me alone (Broke ass hoodrat) You can't roll (You can't roll) You're a stank ass hoe A stank ass hoe (Stank ass hoe) You're a stank ass hoe (Dick suckin tramp) (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) (Bring it back homie, come on, huh) (B-Real) Here goes another example to begin it With a twist (yeah) like pussy I'm in it When I look at me, I look and see How long it took for you to throw the book at me Damn that shit hurts, but I put in work These niggas are like germs, over the counter they lurk And smirk when you fall down, but I calm down And put the anti-bacterial assault down Kill germs that wanna test, they want the best Comparin you to me is like a nigga to the cess Never settle for stress, or wack rappers I'm rockin the outta the West and rockin the East (?) (Chorus: B-Real (Sen Dog)) (Punk ass nigga) You're a bitch ass hoe Knockin on my door Leave me alone Cause you got no soul You're a bitch ass hoe (Trick ass hoe) Need to find a place to go You're a bitch ass hoe (Punk ass niggas) You're a bitch ass hoe Don't touch the microphone You're a bitch ass hoe (Eat a muthafuckin dick) You're a bitch ass hoe Leave me alone Got no place to go You're a bitch ass hoe (Trick ass hoe) (humming) |
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4:02 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
You can't hide from the man with the master plan Huntin for your head "How I Could Just Kill a Man" Ayo, where you at baby keep your head low, damn Got you on the camcorder in the black minivan You crossed line, time for the light to blind You can run but I never be far behind You never know when it's gonna come, paranoid Cuz the mentality is seek and destroy Better look around before you come out your door Cuz shit catches up but you don't want no more Only time will provide the right sign for real You might die cuz you hesitate to find the steel HOOK 2X: You better never let me catch you alone! Bring it on, bring it on! Bring it on, bring it on! You might die in the Valley of Chrome! Keepin on, keepin on, keep, keep, keepin on! [Sen-Dog] Listen up mothefuckers I got shit on my mind The spotlight's on me and it's time to shine I smack any brat that be jumpin outta line I smoke any fool try to diss on my rhyme I get y'all, wearin no can't protect y'all Wash your brain and have you infiltrate the Same bunch of suckers that be tryin to hate me Wanna take me out so they can try and replace me Fuck what ya heard, have ya seen lately The size of my clan is improving greatly No one will hold 'em back, bringin the big heater Watch a nigga run scared, faster than a cheetah Speed of light, move faster than sound But I'm still on they back and I'm gaining much ground HOOK 2X [B-Real] No matter what you seen, we still smokin the green Represent for all the people still a part of the scheme Playa haters, imitaters wanna roll with the team But they fade away, hate away, all for the cream They wanna instigate ?to get a losse forget my stake? Take advantage of the rilla, rob killa who scrapes Cuban motherfuckers who don't know who I am Better step aside suckers watch the heater expand Get outta hand, see the light, you and your clan Better scram outta here before you get slammed I stand strong, keepin on, when I'm rollin alone But you sorry bitches hideaway, place unknown HOOK 4X |
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4:02 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
You can't hide from the man with the master plan Huntin for your head "How I Could Just Kill a Man" Ayo, where you at baby keep your head low, damn Got you on the camcorder in the black minivan You crossed line, time for the light to blind You can run but I never be far behind You never know when it's gonna come, paranoid Cuz the mentality is seek and destroy Better look around before you come out your door Cuz shit catches up but you don't want no more Only time will provide the right sign for real You might die cuz you hesitate to find the steel HOOK 2X: You better never let me catch you alone! Bring it on, bring it on! Bring it on, bring it on! You might die in the Valley of Chrome! Keepin on, keepin on, keep, keep, keepin on! [Sen-Dog] Listen up mothefuckers I got shit on my mind The spotlight's on me and it's time to shine I smack any brat that be jumpin outta line I smoke any fool try to diss on my rhyme I get y'all, wearin no can't protect y'all Wash your brain and have you infiltrate the Same bunch of suckers that be tryin to hate me Wanna take me out so they can try and replace me Fuck what ya heard, have ya seen lately The size of my clan is improving greatly No one will hold 'em back, bringin the big heater Watch a nigga run scared, faster than a cheetah Speed of light, move faster than sound But I'm still on they back and I'm gaining much ground HOOK 2X [B-Real] No matter what you seen, we still smokin the green Represent for all the people still a part of the scheme Playa haters, imitaters wanna roll with the team But they fade away, hate away, all for the cream They wanna instigate ?to get a losse forget my stake? Take advantage of the rilla, rob killa who scrapes Cuban motherfuckers who don't know who I am Better step aside suckers watch the heater expand Get outta hand, see the light, you and your clan Better scram outta here before you get slammed I stand strong, keepin on, when I'm rollin alone But you sorry bitches hideaway, place unknown HOOK 4X |
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4:18 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[Chorus: Sen Dog]
Eastside L.A. Cypress Hill all day Spark the lah We live this shit We latin-thug type Gat-blasters Weedsmokers Moneyholders, that's right [B-Real] Well it's the alleycat looking for the buddhasack On my side is my ese can't fuck with that Starting out venom but if you wanna bill though Come in peace and you can come on the Hill bro But if it ain't in peace bro turn it to a homicide Throw you in the trunk take a ride to the Eastside It's a suicide when you're fucking with the Hill Fool drop your weapon or I'm comming for the kill Duck from the gunshots that is sticking to ya Standing all alone shotgun goes boo-ya Watch it go through ya Ya smelling like manure Fools all bloody body chilling in the sewer Enemy's a viewer I'm sipping on caluha Sitting back chilling with my nigga SonDuhla Heading to the Eastside watch your back busta Ain't no hood for you here it's all about the hustlas [Chorus] [Sen Dog] Rhyme for my neighbourhoud banging out hits For ever backing up that Cypress Hill click To my man on the corner with the shotgunshell Singing sad songs for the ones that fell To me it's kind of funny watching all these dummies Straight turn tricks for the fame and the money Walk a little bold 'cause their record went gold Got him a new ride and up rid it their ho Need this looking raw before you come acting Flexing on some brothers that is twelve times platinum Cause I been there Done that Fool check the format Sweep you and that bullshit under the doormat Put it to your grill like I don't give a damn Sen Dog and the Hill still fucking up the program Yeah y'all, that big bad Cypress and perro up in that place What the fuck you wanna do now huh? [Chorus] [B-Real] Kicking that funky Cypress Hill shit Think I blast another give them something to deal with Cause I'm the ill one Oh the cap-peel one You comming round the Hill fucking son I gotta spill one Now I'm heading to the Eastside looking for revival Living on the Eastside fighting for survival Gotta be nifty with the Han Solo and trying to show yo Wittnesses cause people will use it to kill your show yo Off to the stone garden you go and stay there When I'm dead I'm bringing my music to play there For all the soldiers, moneyfolders, you're on my shoulders You can't hold us back I'm spitting out boulders Crushing every opponent in opposition I know you're wishing that I would bow to submission [Chorus] |
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4:18 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[Chorus: Sen Dog]
Eastside L.A. Cypress Hill all day Spark the lah We live this shit We latin-thug type Gat-blasters Weedsmokers Moneyholders, that's right [B-Real] Well it's the alleycat looking for the buddhasack On my side is my ese can't fuck with that Starting out venom but if you wanna bill though Come in peace and you can come on the Hill bro But if it ain't in peace bro turn it to a homicide Throw you in the trunk take a ride to the Eastside It's a suicide when you're fucking with the Hill Fool drop your weapon or I'm comming for the kill Duck from the gunshots that is sticking to ya Standing all alone shotgun goes boo-ya Watch it go through ya Ya smelling like manure Fools all bloody body chilling in the sewer Enemy's a viewer I'm sipping on caluha Sitting back chilling with my nigga SonDuhla Heading to the Eastside watch your back busta Ain't no hood for you here it's all about the hustlas [Chorus] [Sen Dog] Rhyme for my neighbourhoud banging out hits For ever backing up that Cypress Hill click To my man on the corner with the shotgunshell Singing sad songs for the ones that fell To me it's kind of funny watching all these dummies Straight turn tricks for the fame and the money Walk a little bold 'cause their record went gold Got him a new ride and up rid it their ho Need this looking raw before you come acting Flexing on some brothers that is twelve times platinum Cause I been there Done that Fool check the format Sweep you and that bullshit under the doormat Put it to your grill like I don't give a damn Sen Dog and the Hill still fucking up the program Yeah y'all, that big bad Cypress and perro up in that place What the fuck you wanna do now huh? [Chorus] [B-Real] Kicking that funky Cypress Hill shit Think I blast another give them something to deal with Cause I'm the ill one Oh the cap-peel one You comming round the Hill fucking son I gotta spill one Now I'm heading to the Eastside looking for revival Living on the Eastside fighting for survival Gotta be nifty with the Han Solo and trying to show yo Wittnesses cause people will use it to kill your show yo Off to the stone garden you go and stay there When I'm dead I'm bringing my music to play there For all the soldiers, moneyfolders, you're on my shoulders You can't hold us back I'm spitting out boulders Crushing every opponent in opposition I know you're wishing that I would bow to submission [Chorus] |
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
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,lbklbhjxfklbjngjklhjgggggjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjhhhhhhhhhhyhhhhhhhj 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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Verse 1: Sen-Dog)
You better hope I'm chained up, shackled with a yard I'll snatch you by the neck, bide you like a tech Wreck fools when I disconnect, make you sweat Shit your pants, get in yuor step on my advance Catch a glance of the legendary brother who carries Your body and buries two more lyrics in styles varied Fool what? You ain't got nothin' to say I been backin' up east side LA, all day Blowin' up the best techs, the best flex Havin' the best sex, fuckin' in Wessex The hardcore shit, I know you like it raw 'Cause ain't no other Dog breakin' the last straw (Chorus (2x): B-Real) You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us? You wanna bang with us? Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles (Verse 2: Sen-Dog) I don't bark, I just bite, mangle and maim niggas up Check your strap, they mangle us and pick us up Fool, now you tremblin', I give you three seconds To break out before you resemblin' a dead man A hole through your headband My gat's in my right hand, my plug's in my left hand, punk Cypress Hill worldwide, you just a local Don't anger me, or you can hear it in my vocal You don't want that strap on my hip To deal out, the repercussions dug a fat lip I'm buckin' at the room soon to the boom Fuckin' with your head like the 'shroom you consume (Chorus (2x): B-Real) You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us? You wanna bang with us? Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles (Verse 3) (BR) Bitches, you're all thick-eyed, a weak ride I take money-money, make dummies all night Use the mic, bruise the mic, we choos the mic When you sorry niggas go off and lose the mic (SD) We choose a life right, we roll with crew tight See the light at the end of a tunnel - a gat barrel Wettin' up your flyest apparel, a cane ray You forget me and I'll be back to refresh your fuckin' memory Remember me now, Cypress Hill soldier Up and down the boulevard, big money folder You bring descript sequence with no defense The whole defense hittin' the bones while you sleepin' (Chorus (2x): B-Real) You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us? You wanna bang with us? Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles |
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2:45 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Verse 1: Sen-Dog)
You better hope I'm chained up, shackled with a yard I'll snatch you by the neck, bide you like a tech Wreck fools when I disconnect, make you sweat Shit your pants, get in yuor step on my advance Catch a glance of the legendary brother who carries Your body and buries two more lyrics in styles varied Fool what? You ain't got nothin' to say I been backin' up east side LA, all day Blowin' up the best techs, the best flex Havin' the best sex, fuckin' in Wessex The hardcore shit, I know you like it raw 'Cause ain't no other Dog breakin' the last straw (Chorus (2x): B-Real) You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us? You wanna bang with us? Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles (Verse 2: Sen-Dog) I don't bark, I just bite, mangle and maim niggas up Check your strap, they mangle us and pick us up Fool, now you tremblin', I give you three seconds To break out before you resemblin' a dead man A hole through your headband My gat's in my right hand, my plug's in my left hand, punk Cypress Hill worldwide, you just a local Don't anger me, or you can hear it in my vocal You don't want that strap on my hip To deal out, the repercussions dug a fat lip I'm buckin' at the room soon to the boom Fuckin' with your head like the 'shroom you consume (Chorus (2x): B-Real) You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us? You wanna bang with us? Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles (Verse 3) (BR) Bitches, you're all thick-eyed, a weak ride I take money-money, make dummies all night Use the mic, bruise the mic, we choos the mic When you sorry niggas go off and lose the mic (SD) We choose a life right, we roll with crew tight See the light at the end of a tunnel - a gat barrel Wettin' up your flyest apparel, a cane ray You forget me and I'll be back to refresh your fuckin' memory Remember me now, Cypress Hill soldier Up and down the boulevard, big money folder You bring descript sequence with no defense The whole defense hittin' the bones while you sleepin' (Chorus (2x): B-Real) You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us? You wanna bang with us? Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles |
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