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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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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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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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4:28 |
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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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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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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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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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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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3:11 |
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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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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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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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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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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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3:03 |
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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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3:33 |
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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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4:08 |
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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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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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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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3:11 |
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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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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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4:37 |
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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)
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 - 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)
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 - 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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3:50 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
You ready holmie?
Yup. My first mission runnin’ through the hood to smoke jack With memories poppin’ in my head recall that Late night creepin’ through the alley with six deuce Strapped up everybody focused no mixed views A sawed off pumped in my hand with two shells The other four holmies on the scene with cocktails One nigga lookin’ for popos and foes hell Someone lookin’ through windows the door bells Goes off followed by the punk you gas bomb Adrenaline pumped up still I remain calm House lit up you could see it for eight blocks Runnin’ through the hood run in front of the fade cops The game chase but they couldn’t cover the streets up Rolled out ran into the spot to meet up Strapped down covered up the tracks and back home Laid low earned me a stripe perfect no Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah I’ll hit your block up better lock up Fuck the gang and shit don’t stop uh A mad dog with a bob in the reagle Go into mode and just kill all your people Coast to coast ain’t a nigga more evil Now made me act a lot and call Sen Diesel Rock the block with the M one six .44 mag like a east war fit This here granadilla break you off right quick Be prayin’ up to Jesus and all that shit Uh niggas be jackin’ when they see my bucket Roll down they block they hide and say fuck it Come back in form of an assassin Three hundred yards with the infrared action Troop is the layer black Doc Holiday Cuancho raider the modern day huh Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah, now shooting up your town. Them bad ass assassins, boy. Thought you knew. Check this out, you better be packin’, fool. Hyeah. I manned all missions when I was a youth so thoughtless G ride no fingerprints it’s spotless Six bows hittin’ all the Gs and we got this Rag top down like a stripper that’s topless See me hittin’ the corner you meltdown Slugs fly thugs die moment ya fell down Somebody’s screamin’ you hangin’ the hell down I’m certified nigga when you’re sittin’ there spellbound No thoughts barkin’ just hearin’ the hellhounds Burn you with the heaters spittin’ out twelve rounds It’s life in the hood no escapin’ the gunplay Buy one day I’m out gotta figure out some way Rats in the park all scatter when guns spray Got you locked in now where do the slugs stray I found ways out but the street be one way Got a dark mind no thoughts blacker than Sunday Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
My game’s so strong
I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come I’ve been in the game for a long time yes we’re battle tested With the time and the emotion and the money invested And everything hard no one else’s game is tighter Check the network I’ve been your fuckin’ service provider I brought you thug shit Taught you drug shit got you bugged shit Tell me what we haven’t done We run you through the gambit son Leave you understandin’ what the street life is But you haters never understand so eat my dick You better keep your concentration if you’re ready to roll on me And good bitches if you wanna unload on me ‘Cause if you miss you won’t get that far I’m happy jumpin’ fences and runnin’ down the street like a track star I’m at the finish line it’s essential I’m so influential We’ll strip you off your street credential Game recognize game read all about it You think you blew them in his spine look holmie I doubt it (for real) My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come They call me Dog holmie look it I don’t sell wolf tickets I got my fingers on the triggers and I’m ready to click it I never back down there’s nothing’ you could do to me nigga Who the fuck are you your face is really new to me nigga You wanna run with the Dog try payin’ your two songs Punk niggas bailin’ every time that I use chrome So many niggas ain’t none of ‘em last The bright lights in the woods be stunnin’ they ass I took a chance to advance in my life believe it It takes a stand to be a man busters can’t conceive it Fools tryin’ to be hard they only act the role You little sorry ass bitches I’ll smack you holmes Tryin’ to foam people make ‘em think you’re somethin’ you’re not I’m exposin’ all you bitches by provokin’ the dot No more talkin’ time for some action drama Ya been shot down bullets through your plastic armor My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Latin Thugs Lyrics
Artist(Band):Cypress Hill Review The Song (0) Print the Lyrics Latin Thugs Lyrics MP3 Downloads Send Cypress Hill polyphonic ringtone to your cell phone Don′t be like, uh, a Cubano Be like el rio stoned marijuano Esta capitan pingolete Swing is here with the force of a machete Kick mad lingo from Spain to Tijuana Real hijo puta homeboy ask yo mama No me importa pinga mi niña All I wanna know que ′ta bueno cinga Don′t be scared echate pa′ ca What′s the play dog homeboy goin′ on Ni**as O.G. straight veterano Master the Spanglish style encojonao Y′all fools know aqui no se juega Don′t act a fool y no rompa las reglas We bien crazy ass asesino Get your guns ready aqui viene peligro [Chorus] Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles, como arriba, andale Prende la mota, yo lo que quiero es pureza Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles They call me papi chulo You know I′m puro I never fade away You see me comin′ get your ass runnin I know you hate away Hit the leño harder than most niggaz you idolize Get it started quicker and hit you before you try to hide Latin thug roll deep pandillero Puro Los Angeles South side ghetto Carpet, car black y perro loco Keep an eye on that fiend, porque yo me la cojo bien pingao, poca lista Saco mi pinga y me chingo la pista Can′t get enough of them L.A. skonka Get a little wild y me como la chocha Listen up compa the big cypress loma Still right here y todavia te controla This ain′t no Telemundo special The homies that I roll with for real will come wet you [Chorus] Hey who the fuck is that Otro negro loco, daddy Y necolado, uno de lo batos malo Mucha mucha bala pa′ los ratones desmaya Que moriran seguro si fayan I ain′t neva scared you heard Otro bobo, esta jodienda yo la controlo Vete manso, vete easy, quedate vivo Como quiera que te ponga lo que hay es castigo Soy vivo latino, pistola, cuchillo Pa′ defenderlo de los enemigos Esto son maligno, no tienen tiqueta ni signo Pero todo dicen lo mismo Siiiimon, Tegon, el de pajon, ese si que un cabron Un majon, blastin′ all these motherfuckers Envidiosos, sapos y chotas Tirale pa′ la cabeza, si se va, no regresa Eh pa′ que su pandilla sepa Otro mas, de circulacion se va papa Y no lloro ni la mama... [chorus] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Damian Marley]
All aboard, and jump on the Ganja Bus We now want the new weed, beat under us Rollin′ up, roll like we thunderous Somkin′ up, Rasta not sprinkle dust Too much ecstasy, make manna exit us Too much fantasy, here upon next to us Fit in ganja weed, always notorious Sucker censor me, if you feel glorious We have weed in our cakes and Oreo′s Believe me though, death upon your Marlboro You want my roll, on someone you hardly know This Marley grow, no time to move feet Make it slow, you tellin′ me no Say you want to start the show Like cool, Johnny Depp and you want to blow You shot, direct; that means you are far bellow You start to take, substances up in your nose [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie [B-Real] On the ganja bus, they comin′ after us We makin′ stops all over Los Angeles On the block, where the weed that get scandalous When we run around, police can′t handle us They wanna clout the bus, and on the top be us They never wanna come around, just a rowdy bunch Tengo el poder, tu no aguantas Yo sé, que el juego es dificil para usted Despiertate, no dejes tu gente ver Tu situación cuando no puedes mantener En fuerza que nosotros, enseñale Deja tu vida sin rastros, escondete Portate, we flyin′ up tu +santrope+ And if you want we can jet through Maldigo B [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie Senn Dogg! [Sen Dog] Cuando fumo yo no juego, pásame el fuego Me lo fumo todo, quememe los dedos En la mańana cuando me levanto Antes que nada, yo quemo un pipaso Enamorado con la yerba buena comida cubana y las nalgas morenas todas las nenas saben que yo tengo las colitas, vete en mi leńo no hay nadie que me quite el vicio marihuano por vida, oiste chico? Mundo entero quiero que me entiende La cara virgen wanna va tu mente [Chorus] [B-Real] It′s so hazardous Take a strive with us When it′s over California, we react the bus We fabulous, your talk don′t mean jack to us Better fear for your ass the assassins come Pass ya′ blunts, gonna have to mash it up For you conniving mothafuckers wanna stash it up You actin′ up, we can′t have that′s whats up Listen Muggs on the table gonna slash it up [Chorus] (2x) |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[B-Real]
WELLLLLLLLLLLLLL... here's a little story, I got to tell About a thugged out homey, I know so well It started way back, when I was a teen In the hood, on the corner, slangin dope to fiends Had the little stash that could serve your need You can do what you want but I got weed for me Ridin for my fam, tryin to hit a grand CRASH unit on my ass, now I'm in demand One lone-ly fami-ly I be All in the hood, I got no-bo-dy The sun is beatin down on my red dark hat Pigs are roamin through the alley so I gotta toss my gat Forgot about the sack, lookin for a place to hide If they ask me for my name - fuck 'em, I'ma lie!" [Chorus] One O.G. gangsta I be Busted in the hood, I got no more weed Pigs are comin down on my gangsta stash When they caught me with the weed, and the dope and hash [B-Real] He said a little somethin, I wasn't so impressed No more runnin homey, now you're under arrest The sack was in my hand, felt like a sack of bricks I swore he couldn't see it when I threw it in my whip He said he wanted some, I said I don't have none Found it in the sun on the floor next to my gun Next thing I saw was the gun to my head Now the lead will make me dead, and yo this is what he said [Sen Dog] My name is Sgt. Slacker with a license to kill (uh-huh) I think you know what time it is, it's time to get real (yea) Now what do we have here? A banger and his peers [B-Real] He cuffed my hand you understand he threatened me with tears Sorry motherfucker had his gun out with a grin You think the story's over but it's ready to begin [Chorus] [Sen Dog] Now I got your crack and most of your crew You got a couple choices of what you can do Better make the right decision if you know what I mean You can do some time, or fork over your green [B-Real] I said I got no green he started lookin at me harder I said I don't have nothin you can go fuck your daughter (WHAT?) He hit me with the fist, he hit me with the gat He put the night stick to my back, soooooooooooooo I think I'm done, the pig's got my gun It isn't lookin good, I got ink on my thumb Another pig walked in, said he's playin games He gave another look at me, found out my false name [Chorus] [B-Real] Sittin there pissed as I dwell in my cell The place smells like shit, in the County Jail Homey lookin at me like he seen me before He started throwin up a set, then he spit on the floor I think ay-yeah yo, I know this kid It's the same motherfucker cocktailed my crib This dude said - get ready - pulled a shank on me I said c'mon homey you a bit too sloppy Fool tried to stab me, socked him in the eye The guards yelled, "Give it up!" and let two fly The guards said down and we hit the floor If you make a move after you won't move no more He said I think you once again best protect ya neck I said eat a dick from me you don't get respect I said you wanna come with it, any time and place And I'll leave you like Pacino with a Scar-on-ya-face They put him in the hole, and all the bullshit stopped But when his boy had beef, yeah he got dropped P.D. had no witness, D.A. dropped the load I got probation for the gun and the dope, case closed [Chorus - 2X] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Yo, I got this plan to make some money. I want you to keep this shit to yourself.
At 6:15 am the truck pulls out the post office, on Lankershin and Wilsher. Now it makes one stop before it goes to Sacramento, which is a mail drop-off at First Federal Loan and Savings. I did whatever I could to get by Slang dope jack people hands in the sky When you livin’ on the edge yeah homie it’s a high You get caught up in the drama and eventually you die Livin’ in a hard world some are livin’ lies Son you better wise up and open up your eyes Shit it never easy homie people will connive Better have a hustle if you mean to survive Why you’re so greedy can you tell us all why Look homie believe me you’re fuckin’ metal ply For the dollar everybody is a target that’s real Talkin’ is smog you’re fate’s signed and sealed You could be the next one cross ‘em in the path What maybe if you do the math you can avoid the blood bath All the money that we stole too weak to take greed Give it to an honest man the money is still deep Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Fiend for the lean green Never get enough is a mother fuckin’ gangs dream For the love of the cash flow You could live fast and you could die slow Sure but you can bet your ass you believe it ‘Cause niggas that you know try hard to be schemin’ Work hard as fuck for everything to rock You a dead mother fucker ‘fore I get got Fools got game floss and drop names My move’s faster than a runaway train Fuck the world don’t ask me for shit That′s you on your knees and you want some dick Spot a gold digger with a hairline trigger Each move you make the reputation get bigger For the love of the money, pussy, drugs Fools change get all twisted up Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Only if ya better keep your eyes peeled ‘Cause you were talkin’ for jacks and that’s real Whether you rap or do biz or drug deal Homie for the dollar you can get yourself killed He decided to jet it could happen with no discussions Straps of all pain fools fuckin’ eruptin’ For the green little papers jackin’ your neighbors But what if your neighbor put arms in his favor Moved up the heater to mash you punk bitches Don’t wanna earn shit you wanna jack for the riches Nothin’ in life’s for free my nigga learn that You burn someone they might just burn back Scorchin’ niggas to the third degree Auh y’all triggers deserve to be Put out of your misery your history son When your body disappears then the mystery come Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Never Know Lyrics
Artist(Band):Cypress Hill Review The Song (0) Print the Lyrics Never Know Lyrics MP3 Downloads Send Cypress Hill polyphonic ringtone to your cell phone [Chorus 2X] You never know I just might die tonight so lets get hight tonight Might try to fight, some mothers cry tonight Cig in my right hand cause you hold tight to life But you ain′t a bright man [Verse One] You know I live with the biggest hitters, crime committers And bull shitters Never had a quitter come with us Who had the jitters sine some bitter tasting minute I spit it for those who did it Like a soldier so committed to winning You never know who you running with nigga Who you gunning with, who you thugging with In times of struggle shit Never be blinded by diamonds they signin for weak nigga No sign of loyalty in anything you speak You never know You′re breakable, celebrated but fadeable You′re biodegradeable You just might die tonight Get out of my sight cause You ain′t even know theres your fight [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two] I been through the scandal and handled them better than other vandals Hearing insane rambles saying that lifes a gamble Praying for just a sample in amble times To trample, example Enemies who shit they need a pamper You never know Every thug nigga living his life Giving his life meaning Haters in the wings, they feeling their pride stinging We here, death knocking its schocking We keep it popping homey We never stopping we keeping all you bitches dropping homey You never know I can see through and he got an evil intent I′m gonna see to him I think you all got the message its a hard lesson Yo aye you go to pray to god stressing [Chorus 2X] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
(Verse One)
Reflections of my own life flash like a fire Powder burns the memories life seems a bad dream Fall for centuries physical and the mental When I crashed through work I was cursed but still I Quit my curse found my hustle Stack paper made it world wide Feeling the dream, dont be a hater son Think you the greater one Gotta put you on the fader son Cut your ass up see you later Gotta drop till your praying nigga You ain't a player hust a frail nigga I'm the slayer in your nightmares Unstoppable When you see me on the street Call a audible I got you covered, face it And you can't dodge this bullet baby This ain't the matrix Got to put you in your placement Hide your body in the basement Your boys wonder where your face went (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Two) Backbreakers of the game Many many musical Legendary criminal destined to be professional I rain supreme Ever since my days you rock vest just to push your range No doubt about it We grew up in the cloud Read up in your magazine just to see what were about Peep into the case, see me, ask Why that black ass nigga flow over the piano Droppin it good For that hoody in the front row Thats my good pro down for the juggalo Three guns busted for the battle man Shoot the whole scene make the motherfucker rattle Duece, double o, slow Church folk say we ain't got too many more Either man rush I'm gonna hit em with the head rush So be careful on what you trusting (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Three) Yo I was walking on the block Heard a couple shots Caught one in the leg And I know who did it They gonna get it Wrap up my leg Bounced upstairs and got strapped up I love that drama shit I'm all gassed up I lit that kush up and got doughed up And thought about all the foul shit I did I can't help it, I was this way since a kid Then I slide out the crib Hunt down my pray The look in my eyes like I sniffed some yay Ran up on homes And blast away He passed away twin got the last laugh today Anybody front I keep that on me You had to die homey thats part of the game I got guns put niggaz don't know how to aim I'm in the shooting range mastering the art (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Hits From The Bong
Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Pick it, pack it, fire it up, come aloooong and take hits from the boooong 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 coal 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 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 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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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Let's go [B-Real] I met her a club, her friend liked me but she didn't She noticed a lot of girls giving up their phone digits She didn't wanna be one of those hoes In clothes exploiting her body from head to toes She had glossy lips she was swaying her hips On the dance floor and every nigga's flashing her grip Trying to impress her in vain she gave no play Niggaz hit her up for numbers and she said no way I thought to myself let it go and roll on, B But like Smokey said she really had a hold on me I couldn't stop staring I started to fantasize with her Voices in my head said she's tantalizing ya Even if I moved to the other side of the party I had pictures in my head of her moving that body I was beside myself with hunger pain So I slowly walked over and I asked her name [Chorus: repeat 2X] What's your name, what's your number? I'd like to get to know you Can we have a conversation? The night is young, girl give me a chance! [B-Real] She gave a smile but I got no answer though I took a while before she gave a chance she's acting cold I offered her a drink she turned me down blat She said if you want my name you gotta do better than that I said OK, now your shit don't stink I'ma walk away only tried to buy you a drink As I began to walk away she said I'm sorry for real But every guy in the club tried slipping me pills I don't trust guys each and every one will lie to you I said I understand but it's not what I try to do I wasn't even gonna come to your table But if I didn't I knew that I'd regret it later I go after what I want but I got class For me no need to slip a pill if I want ass She gave me a funny look I couldn't tell what it meant She let her guard down and on our conversation went [Chorus] [B-Real] She said I want a man with a plan and ambition Not an immature nigga on a "pussy-hit mission" I'm too good for that I have so much to offer Got a good job working at my mom and dad's law firm You got goals, that's what she asked Yeah I wanna fill my home with platinum plaques It takes hard work but you know it's coming after She said 'oh my God you must be a famous rapper!' I do all right but I'm never satisfied I'm told when you still love what you do it never gets old I strive for more but that's enough about me Why don't we skip out the club and take a walk on the street We slipped out of the club with no worries Seems she wanted to get out in a hurry We hung all night till we lost our friends Till they caught us bangin in the back of a Benz [Chorus] - 2X |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Intro - samples + vocals]
″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″Once again″ .. ″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″The greatest show on Earth!″ ″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″Back again!″ ″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″I bring to YOU″ [Verse One: B-Real] Welcome everyone, take ya places It′s great seein all these familiar faces You want thug shit? We got a lot of it You wanna get high? I′m on top of it You want bottles? C′mon, we poppin it You want a revolution? Ain′t no stoppin it Enemies try to fire back Desire that, find you where the tire track Cause we run ya down son, but in spite of that Got a joint? Fools give me my lighter back ... I′ma light up the bomb I′ma blaze ′til we set off the fire alarm No need for evacuation Find a honey that′s ill for ejaculation She got friends, well the more the merrier No limits, no worries, no more barriers [Chorus 2X: B-Real, mixed with samples] Once again it′s Cypress Hill We some ill-ass niggaz straight bumpin the field Smoke it up, from now until somebody calls out steel and we live for the thrill [Verse Two: B-Real] Plug the mic in, and I′ll move the crowd Neighbors get mad cause the music′s loud I send a few girls in the hall to talk Crusty old man never called the cops No pistols, if you get my drift yo You pull one and miss better slit yo′ wrists bro This ain′t a gangsta party But if you turn it into one a bullet might pierce yo′ body Relax, there′s a lot of girls in here You shitfaced niggaz, don′t earl in here Don′t break shit or take nothin, mind your manners Or your head goes BOOM like it′s fuckin skanless But we ain′t for all that right now, just chill out We can pop bottles or let the blood spill out Cuanta, suck it up, shut your trap Before you lose that fine-ass girl on your lap [Chorus] [Verse Three: B-Real] You wanna room? Let me clear one out But while I′m gone, just don′t let the beers run out In the morn′ we can watch all the tears come out When the pigs come, a nigga wanna hear one out For now, we can pass the time Blazin it up, if you slow you the last in line Got a roach, so what? You ain′t spent a dime You ungrateful-ass critter, back the hell of mine You can, lose the life or lose the knife Use the pipe, but I can′t lose tonight All the girls bein picky who they chose tonight You better hope you chillin with the right crew tonight See that girl over there? Yeah she like your style Probably seen her on the video ″Girls Gone Wild″ Hesitation is constipation of your game when you′re in for a night of elation [Chorus] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Chorus 2X] My game so strong, I can't go wrong My dough so long, baby why prolong Baby we get high, Baby we get dough Baby we can party all night till death come [Verse One] We been in the game for a long time Yes we're battle tested With the time and the emotion, and the money invested And if you think hard No one elses game is tighter Check the network, up in ya fucking service provider I bought you thug shit Thought you drug shit Got you bugged shit Tell me what we havent done We run you through course son Leave you understanding what the street life is But you haters never understand So eat my dick You better Get on your concentration If you ready to roll on me And good bitches if you wanna unload on me Cause if you miss you won't get that far Ill have you jumping fences And running down the treet like a track star I'm at the finish line, its essential We so influential Well strip you of your street credential Game recognize, game we all about Think you can deminish mine Look homey I got a career [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two] They call me dog homey Look I don't sell woof tickets I got my fingers on the trigger And I'm ready to click it I never back down Theres nothing you cand do to me nigga Who the fuck are you Your face is really new to me nigga You wanna run with the dog Try paying your dues homes Bum nigga yelling every time that I use chrome So many niggaz, aint none of them blast, the right lights In the woods be stunning their ass I took a chance To advance, in my life believe it It takes a stand to be a man Plus the gang conceited Fools trying to be hard They only act the role You little sorry ass bitches, Ill smack you hoes Try to fool people Make em think you something your not I'm exposing all you bitches By provoking the crowd Raw dogging, dying for some action, drama Your bitch shocked out Bullets through plastic dome [Chorus 2X] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
(Fuck you motherfucker! Untie me from this chair man
You better untie me from this chair nigga You know who the fuck I am, I will have you killed nigga! You better untie me motherfucker, fuck y'all motherfuckers man! Do you know who the fuck I am?) [beat drowns out the voice as a Cypress Hill member speaks] Right [duct tape being unrolled] Sho' you right You want a cigarette nigga? [B-Real] You was a good kid, your parents musta loved you They got you out of trouble no matter how big the bubble They gave you everything, nah you never needed nothin We used to get high, 'member we was weeded cousin We used to go to clubs, blaze it up and act crazy What made you turn around, was it drugs or your lady? We had good times, committin hood crimes We drew lines but you never understood mine You don't go fuckin homies, just like my momma told me I held my hood up boldly, you were a fuckin phony I guess it manifested when I got the call early They said you bunkered down in the hood with ol' girly She had your back covered, but that didn't matter did it? I know you're livin, but you put your fuckin self in it Don't try to make a move, nigga don't go fuckin 'dere I know you're hurtin cause you're tied up to the fuckin chair You never loved your family, you robbed that mall gladly They tried to love you sadly, you let 'em down badly Just call me Death's angel, but we were never strangers You 'bout to get mangled, that's truer than Kurt Angle Now it's time to pay, any last words to say? I know your mind strays, son I think you need to pray Don't even need to tell you, you were a smart nigga Save your teardrops, yo don't even start nigga You shoulda thought of that long ago before you fucked me You dodged me long enough, homey now you been lucky But now it's pay the piper, no fuckin traps or snipers Just the gas and lighter, caught up in the web of spiders But now you get devoured, burnin in the flames you coward This is the very hour, I send your family flowers I'm sure they all will miss you, but they will be good without you They'll reminisce and light a candle as they talk about you [Cypress Hill] Relax... no no it's okay Let me give you a light [muffled: "Oh SHIT!"] [flames roaring, a voice screaming] That's my favorite fucking song.. [in the background, "Pigs" by Cypress Hill plays] [B-Real] This pig harassed the whole neighborhood Well this pig worked at the station This pig he killed my Homeboy so the fuckin pig, went on a vacation This pig he is the chief Got a brother pig, Captain O'Malley He's got a son that's a pig too He's collectin pay-offs from a dark alley This pig's known as a narco.. [music fades] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[church bells gong]
[Verse One: B-Real] As a kid, I was known, son of a thug Snub-nosed .38 in the glove, who can relate with us? Never had an easy life, shit's way out Clips spray out, fools pay out or play out Any scenario, been there, done that Gone where some of y'all niggaz, couldn't come back Been through the hottest parts of hell Came back with a hard shell and, hard as nails I went through it all, do it all, screw it all Small you recall, the hard times as a juve-nile Often misunderstood Some joined the military, others just joined the hood Street corner combat, part of the dark streets Your heart beats pump when my slugs release And there ain't no tellin, don't be the one yellin These birds are deadly, they can shatter your melon [Chorus 2X: B-Real] When the street wars jump off, there's only one thing to do Grab your gat and squeeze one off This ain't the life of the soft ones who run off You got one shot to get you a knot [Verse Two: B-Real] At the crossroads, sick of holdin the badlands Where street wars, kick off quicker than Van Dam Mistakes of mad man, I remember the old ways The old days where fools clapped yo' {?} No quarter, you feel me? Life expectancy's just a little bit shorter G's gave the order, you carried 'em out Quick fast, you the last nigga I'm worried about Get that street lead, that was one step over the edge Much closer to death, every step I kept on Learnin about the dark paths, made a hard left Prayed to God death is swift and painless This life ain't for everyone, stay out my shoes You can't trade your fate, I hate to break the news The young won't respect the fences these days You a marked man if you get caught up in these ways [Chorus] [pause for spooky instrumental] [Chorus] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[B-Real]
How many times have we been thru this I can tell you that it's getting harder everytime I try to resist We go way back and you held me down Helped my feet moving on the ground No matter what situation ocasion You were amazing, you knew just what it took to keep dough up blazing (?) I kept you by me, but when we seperated I was thinkin foolishly Remember when your Ex-Boy tried to bug on me I told to bring it on and (?) on me He didn't like that but didn't want the fight Fuck 'im, he didn't know how to treat you right We go hand in hand they don't understand a man But you do and I really respect that, damn We been down so long but it's all good That's why I dedicate this song [Chorus: repeat 2X] Till Death Do Us Part I do [Verse Two: B-Real] Who would have thought it would last so long So many new ones think that they can't go wrong I know I make so many mistakes I know you felt neglected, you caught me outta line If you thought I didn't respect it - I heard ya But I never showed an emotion If I haven't ever said it, you got on my devotion When I fell hard you picked me up Maybe think about my life where I'm going a little tricky - Huh? I know there were time where you thought I would change But I'm the same motherfucking brother even in spite of the fame There might be some times we don't agree on some But don't never feel your thoughts don't mean nothing Some have tried to steal (?), I'm not one of those people Always tell it like it is, cuz the (?) but don't get mad When truth is leaving I'm only telling you cuz I got your back [Chorus] [Verse Threee: B-Real] You got my mind right and I don't know how you did it When I trip not too many who can put with it But you still there, still care so well - oh yeah Got so much love (?) I appreaciate what you're doing for me I had to open up my eyes so I can see the minutes we lost Whenever I was out on tour (?) we could make it up like never before You want all the little things that make it work it Why not, we can get it, we both deserve it It's hard but (?) good, it's ever so easy We have a bond that wont break, no mistake, believe me Till Death Do Us Part, like I said from the start You're the light that guides me thru when I'm in the dark They said we'd neverlast but we're still strong That's why I dedicate this song - C'mon [Chorus - 4X] [sound of someone blowing out a candle] I do I do [music fades] |
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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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3:50 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
You ready holmie?
Yup. My first mission runnin’ through the hood to smoke jack With memories poppin’ in my head recall that Late night creepin’ through the alley with six deuce Strapped up everybody focused no mixed views A sawed off pumped in my hand with two shells The other four holmies on the scene with cocktails One nigga lookin’ for popos and foes hell Someone lookin’ through windows the door bells Goes off followed by the punk you gas bomb Adrenaline pumped up still I remain calm House lit up you could see it for eight blocks Runnin’ through the hood run in front of the fade cops The game chase but they couldn’t cover the streets up Rolled out ran into the spot to meet up Strapped down covered up the tracks and back home Laid low earned me a stripe perfect no Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah I’ll hit your block up better lock up Fuck the gang and shit don’t stop uh A mad dog with a bob in the reagle Go into mode and just kill all your people Coast to coast ain’t a nigga more evil Now made me act a lot and call Sen Diesel Rock the block with the M one six .44 mag like a east war fit This here granadilla break you off right quick Be prayin’ up to Jesus and all that shit Uh niggas be jackin’ when they see my bucket Roll down they block they hide and say fuck it Come back in form of an assassin Three hundred yards with the infrared action Troop is the layer black Doc Holiday Cuancho raider the modern day huh Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah, now shooting up your town. Them bad ass assassins, boy. Thought you knew. Check this out, you better be packin’, fool. Hyeah. I manned all missions when I was a youth so thoughtless G ride no fingerprints it’s spotless Six bows hittin’ all the Gs and we got this Rag top down like a stripper that’s topless See me hittin’ the corner you meltdown Slugs fly thugs die moment ya fell down Somebody’s screamin’ you hangin’ the hell down I’m certified nigga when you’re sittin’ there spellbound No thoughts barkin’ just hearin’ the hellhounds Burn you with the heaters spittin’ out twelve rounds It’s life in the hood no escapin’ the gunplay Buy one day I’m out gotta figure out some way Rats in the park all scatter when guns spray Got you locked in now where do the slugs stray I found ways out but the street be one way Got a dark mind no thoughts blacker than Sunday Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
My game’s so strong
I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come I’ve been in the game for a long time yes we’re battle tested With the time and the emotion and the money invested And everything hard no one else’s game is tighter Check the network I’ve been your fuckin’ service provider I brought you thug shit Taught you drug shit got you bugged shit Tell me what we haven’t done We run you through the gambit son Leave you understandin’ what the street life is But you haters never understand so eat my dick You better keep your concentration if you’re ready to roll on me And good bitches if you wanna unload on me ‘Cause if you miss you won’t get that far I’m happy jumpin’ fences and runnin’ down the street like a track star I’m at the finish line it’s essential I’m so influential We’ll strip you off your street credential Game recognize game read all about it You think you blew them in his spine look holmie I doubt it (for real) My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come They call me Dog holmie look it I don’t sell wolf tickets I got my fingers on the triggers and I’m ready to click it I never back down there’s nothing’ you could do to me nigga Who the fuck are you your face is really new to me nigga You wanna run with the Dog try payin’ your two songs Punk niggas bailin’ every time that I use chrome So many niggas ain’t none of ‘em last The bright lights in the woods be stunnin’ they ass I took a chance to advance in my life believe it It takes a stand to be a man busters can’t conceive it Fools tryin’ to be hard they only act the role You little sorry ass bitches I’ll smack you holmes Tryin’ to foam people make ‘em think you’re somethin’ you’re not I’m exposin’ all you bitches by provokin’ the dot No more talkin’ time for some action drama Ya been shot down bullets through your plastic armor My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come My game’s so strong I can’t go wrong My dough’s so raw Baby why prolong Maybe we get high Maybe we get dumb Maybe we can party all night till death come |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Latin Thugs Lyrics
Artist(Band):Cypress Hill Review The Song (0) Print the Lyrics Latin Thugs Lyrics MP3 Downloads Send Cypress Hill polyphonic ringtone to your cell phone Don′t be like, uh, a Cubano Be like el rio stoned marijuano Esta capitan pingolete Swing is here with the force of a machete Kick mad lingo from Spain to Tijuana Real hijo puta homeboy ask yo mama No me importa pinga mi niña All I wanna know que ′ta bueno cinga Don′t be scared echate pa′ ca What′s the play dog homeboy goin′ on Ni**as O.G. straight veterano Master the Spanglish style encojonao Y′all fools know aqui no se juega Don′t act a fool y no rompa las reglas We bien crazy ass asesino Get your guns ready aqui viene peligro [Chorus] Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles, como arriba, andale Prende la mota, yo lo que quiero es pureza Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles They call me papi chulo You know I′m puro I never fade away You see me comin′ get your ass runnin I know you hate away Hit the leño harder than most niggaz you idolize Get it started quicker and hit you before you try to hide Latin thug roll deep pandillero Puro Los Angeles South side ghetto Carpet, car black y perro loco Keep an eye on that fiend, porque yo me la cojo bien pingao, poca lista Saco mi pinga y me chingo la pista Can′t get enough of them L.A. skonka Get a little wild y me como la chocha Listen up compa the big cypress loma Still right here y todavia te controla This ain′t no Telemundo special The homies that I roll with for real will come wet you [Chorus] Hey who the fuck is that Otro negro loco, daddy Y necolado, uno de lo batos malo Mucha mucha bala pa′ los ratones desmaya Que moriran seguro si fayan I ain′t neva scared you heard Otro bobo, esta jodienda yo la controlo Vete manso, vete easy, quedate vivo Como quiera que te ponga lo que hay es castigo Soy vivo latino, pistola, cuchillo Pa′ defenderlo de los enemigos Esto son maligno, no tienen tiqueta ni signo Pero todo dicen lo mismo Siiiimon, Tegon, el de pajon, ese si que un cabron Un majon, blastin′ all these motherfuckers Envidiosos, sapos y chotas Tirale pa′ la cabeza, si se va, no regresa Eh pa′ que su pandilla sepa Otro mas, de circulacion se va papa Y no lloro ni la mama... [chorus] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Damian Marley]
All aboard, and jump on the Ganja Bus We now want the new weed, beat under us Rollin′ up, roll like we thunderous Somkin′ up, Rasta not sprinkle dust Too much ecstasy, make manna exit us Too much fantasy, here upon next to us Fit in ganja weed, always notorious Sucker censor me, if you feel glorious We have weed in our cakes and Oreo′s Believe me though, death upon your Marlboro You want my roll, on someone you hardly know This Marley grow, no time to move feet Make it slow, you tellin′ me no Say you want to start the show Like cool, Johnny Depp and you want to blow You shot, direct; that means you are far bellow You start to take, substances up in your nose [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie [B-Real] On the ganja bus, they comin′ after us We makin′ stops all over Los Angeles On the block, where the weed that get scandalous When we run around, police can′t handle us They wanna clout the bus, and on the top be us They never wanna come around, just a rowdy bunch Tengo el poder, tu no aguantas Yo sé, que el juego es dificil para usted Despiertate, no dejes tu gente ver Tu situación cuando no puedes mantener En fuerza que nosotros, enseñale Deja tu vida sin rastros, escondete Portate, we flyin′ up tu +santrope+ And if you want we can jet through Maldigo B [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie Senn Dogg! [Sen Dog] Cuando fumo yo no juego, pásame el fuego Me lo fumo todo, quememe los dedos En la mańana cuando me levanto Antes que nada, yo quemo un pipaso Enamorado con la yerba buena comida cubana y las nalgas morenas todas las nenas saben que yo tengo las colitas, vete en mi leńo no hay nadie que me quite el vicio marihuano por vida, oiste chico? Mundo entero quiero que me entiende La cara virgen wanna va tu mente [Chorus] [B-Real] It′s so hazardous Take a strive with us When it′s over California, we react the bus We fabulous, your talk don′t mean jack to us Better fear for your ass the assassins come Pass ya′ blunts, gonna have to mash it up For you conniving mothafuckers wanna stash it up You actin′ up, we can′t have that′s whats up Listen Muggs on the table gonna slash it up [Chorus] (2x) |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[B-Real]
WELLLLLLLLLLLLLL... here's a little story, I got to tell About a thugged out homey, I know so well It started way back, when I was a teen In the hood, on the corner, slangin dope to fiends Had the little stash that could serve your need You can do what you want but I got weed for me Ridin for my fam, tryin to hit a grand CRASH unit on my ass, now I'm in demand One lone-ly fami-ly I be All in the hood, I got no-bo-dy The sun is beatin down on my red dark hat Pigs are roamin through the alley so I gotta toss my gat Forgot about the sack, lookin for a place to hide If they ask me for my name - fuck 'em, I'ma lie!" [Chorus] One O.G. gangsta I be Busted in the hood, I got no more weed Pigs are comin down on my gangsta stash When they caught me with the weed, and the dope and hash [B-Real] He said a little somethin, I wasn't so impressed No more runnin homey, now you're under arrest The sack was in my hand, felt like a sack of bricks I swore he couldn't see it when I threw it in my whip He said he wanted some, I said I don't have none Found it in the sun on the floor next to my gun Next thing I saw was the gun to my head Now the lead will make me dead, and yo this is what he said [Sen Dog] My name is Sgt. Slacker with a license to kill (uh-huh) I think you know what time it is, it's time to get real (yea) Now what do we have here? A banger and his peers [B-Real] He cuffed my hand you understand he threatened me with tears Sorry motherfucker had his gun out with a grin You think the story's over but it's ready to begin [Chorus] [Sen Dog] Now I got your crack and most of your crew You got a couple choices of what you can do Better make the right decision if you know what I mean You can do some time, or fork over your green [B-Real] I said I got no green he started lookin at me harder I said I don't have nothin you can go fuck your daughter (WHAT?) He hit me with the fist, he hit me with the gat He put the night stick to my back, soooooooooooooo I think I'm done, the pig's got my gun It isn't lookin good, I got ink on my thumb Another pig walked in, said he's playin games He gave another look at me, found out my false name [Chorus] [B-Real] Sittin there pissed as I dwell in my cell The place smells like shit, in the County Jail Homey lookin at me like he seen me before He started throwin up a set, then he spit on the floor I think ay-yeah yo, I know this kid It's the same motherfucker cocktailed my crib This dude said - get ready - pulled a shank on me I said c'mon homey you a bit too sloppy Fool tried to stab me, socked him in the eye The guards yelled, "Give it up!" and let two fly The guards said down and we hit the floor If you make a move after you won't move no more He said I think you once again best protect ya neck I said eat a dick from me you don't get respect I said you wanna come with it, any time and place And I'll leave you like Pacino with a Scar-on-ya-face They put him in the hole, and all the bullshit stopped But when his boy had beef, yeah he got dropped P.D. had no witness, D.A. dropped the load I got probation for the gun and the dope, case closed [Chorus - 2X] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Yo, I got this plan to make some money. I want you to keep this shit to yourself.
At 6:15 am the truck pulls out the post office, on Lankershin and Wilsher. Now it makes one stop before it goes to Sacramento, which is a mail drop-off at First Federal Loan and Savings. I did whatever I could to get by Slang dope jack people hands in the sky When you livin’ on the edge yeah homie it’s a high You get caught up in the drama and eventually you die Livin’ in a hard world some are livin’ lies Son you better wise up and open up your eyes Shit it never easy homie people will connive Better have a hustle if you mean to survive Why you’re so greedy can you tell us all why Look homie believe me you’re fuckin’ metal ply For the dollar everybody is a target that’s real Talkin’ is smog you’re fate’s signed and sealed You could be the next one cross ‘em in the path What maybe if you do the math you can avoid the blood bath All the money that we stole too weak to take greed Give it to an honest man the money is still deep Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Fiend for the lean green Never get enough is a mother fuckin’ gangs dream For the love of the cash flow You could live fast and you could die slow Sure but you can bet your ass you believe it ‘Cause niggas that you know try hard to be schemin’ Work hard as fuck for everything to rock You a dead mother fucker ‘fore I get got Fools got game floss and drop names My move’s faster than a runaway train Fuck the world don’t ask me for shit That′s you on your knees and you want some dick Spot a gold digger with a hairline trigger Each move you make the reputation get bigger For the love of the money, pussy, drugs Fools change get all twisted up Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Only if ya better keep your eyes peeled ‘Cause you were talkin’ for jacks and that’s real Whether you rap or do biz or drug deal Homie for the dollar you can get yourself killed He decided to jet it could happen with no discussions Straps of all pain fools fuckin’ eruptin’ For the green little papers jackin’ your neighbors But what if your neighbor put arms in his favor Moved up the heater to mash you punk bitches Don’t wanna earn shit you wanna jack for the riches Nothin’ in life’s for free my nigga learn that You burn someone they might just burn back Scorchin’ niggas to the third degree Auh y’all triggers deserve to be Put out of your misery your history son When your body disappears then the mystery come Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Never Know Lyrics
Artist(Band):Cypress Hill Review The Song (0) Print the Lyrics Never Know Lyrics MP3 Downloads Send Cypress Hill polyphonic ringtone to your cell phone [Chorus 2X] You never know I just might die tonight so lets get hight tonight Might try to fight, some mothers cry tonight Cig in my right hand cause you hold tight to life But you ain′t a bright man [Verse One] You know I live with the biggest hitters, crime committers And bull shitters Never had a quitter come with us Who had the jitters sine some bitter tasting minute I spit it for those who did it Like a soldier so committed to winning You never know who you running with nigga Who you gunning with, who you thugging with In times of struggle shit Never be blinded by diamonds they signin for weak nigga No sign of loyalty in anything you speak You never know You′re breakable, celebrated but fadeable You′re biodegradeable You just might die tonight Get out of my sight cause You ain′t even know theres your fight [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two] I been through the scandal and handled them better than other vandals Hearing insane rambles saying that lifes a gamble Praying for just a sample in amble times To trample, example Enemies who shit they need a pamper You never know Every thug nigga living his life Giving his life meaning Haters in the wings, they feeling their pride stinging We here, death knocking its schocking We keep it popping homey We never stopping we keeping all you bitches dropping homey You never know I can see through and he got an evil intent I′m gonna see to him I think you all got the message its a hard lesson Yo aye you go to pray to god stressing [Chorus 2X] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
(Verse One)
Reflections of my own life flash like a fire Powder burns the memories life seems a bad dream Fall for centuries physical and the mental When I crashed through work I was cursed but still I Quit my curse found my hustle Stack paper made it world wide Feeling the dream, dont be a hater son Think you the greater one Gotta put you on the fader son Cut your ass up see you later Gotta drop till your praying nigga You ain't a player hust a frail nigga I'm the slayer in your nightmares Unstoppable When you see me on the street Call a audible I got you covered, face it And you can't dodge this bullet baby This ain't the matrix Got to put you in your placement Hide your body in the basement Your boys wonder where your face went (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Two) Backbreakers of the game Many many musical Legendary criminal destined to be professional I rain supreme Ever since my days you rock vest just to push your range No doubt about it We grew up in the cloud Read up in your magazine just to see what were about Peep into the case, see me, ask Why that black ass nigga flow over the piano Droppin it good For that hoody in the front row Thats my good pro down for the juggalo Three guns busted for the battle man Shoot the whole scene make the motherfucker rattle Duece, double o, slow Church folk say we ain't got too many more Either man rush I'm gonna hit em with the head rush So be careful on what you trusting (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Three) Yo I was walking on the block Heard a couple shots Caught one in the leg And I know who did it They gonna get it Wrap up my leg Bounced upstairs and got strapped up I love that drama shit I'm all gassed up I lit that kush up and got doughed up And thought about all the foul shit I did I can't help it, I was this way since a kid Then I slide out the crib Hunt down my pray The look in my eyes like I sniffed some yay Ran up on homes And blast away He passed away twin got the last laugh today Anybody front I keep that on me You had to die homey thats part of the game I got guns put niggaz don't know how to aim I'm in the shooting range mastering the art (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Hits From The Bong
Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Pick it, pack it, fire it up, come aloooong and take hits from the boooong 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 coal 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 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 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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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Let's go [B-Real] I met her a club, her friend liked me but she didn't She noticed a lot of girls giving up their phone digits She didn't wanna be one of those hoes In clothes exploiting her body from head to toes She had glossy lips she was swaying her hips On the dance floor and every nigga's flashing her grip Trying to impress her in vain she gave no play Niggaz hit her up for numbers and she said no way I thought to myself let it go and roll on, B But like Smokey said she really had a hold on me I couldn't stop staring I started to fantasize with her Voices in my head said she's tantalizing ya Even if I moved to the other side of the party I had pictures in my head of her moving that body I was beside myself with hunger pain So I slowly walked over and I asked her name [Chorus: repeat 2X] What's your name, what's your number? I'd like to get to know you Can we have a conversation? The night is young, girl give me a chance! [B-Real] She gave a smile but I got no answer though I took a while before she gave a chance she's acting cold I offered her a drink she turned me down blat She said if you want my name you gotta do better than that I said OK, now your shit don't stink I'ma walk away only tried to buy you a drink As I began to walk away she said I'm sorry for real But every guy in the club tried slipping me pills I don't trust guys each and every one will lie to you I said I understand but it's not what I try to do I wasn't even gonna come to your table But if I didn't I knew that I'd regret it later I go after what I want but I got class For me no need to slip a pill if I want ass She gave me a funny look I couldn't tell what it meant She let her guard down and on our conversation went [Chorus] [B-Real] She said I want a man with a plan and ambition Not an immature nigga on a "pussy-hit mission" I'm too good for that I have so much to offer Got a good job working at my mom and dad's law firm You got goals, that's what she asked Yeah I wanna fill my home with platinum plaques It takes hard work but you know it's coming after She said 'oh my God you must be a famous rapper!' I do all right but I'm never satisfied I'm told when you still love what you do it never gets old I strive for more but that's enough about me Why don't we skip out the club and take a walk on the street We slipped out of the club with no worries Seems she wanted to get out in a hurry We hung all night till we lost our friends Till they caught us bangin in the back of a Benz [Chorus] - 2X |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Intro - samples + vocals]
″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″Once again″ .. ″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″The greatest show on Earth!″ ″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″Back again!″ ″Once again!″ [B-Real] Once again it′s Cypress Hill ″I bring to YOU″ [Verse One: B-Real] Welcome everyone, take ya places It′s great seein all these familiar faces You want thug shit? We got a lot of it You wanna get high? I′m on top of it You want bottles? C′mon, we poppin it You want a revolution? Ain′t no stoppin it Enemies try to fire back Desire that, find you where the tire track Cause we run ya down son, but in spite of that Got a joint? Fools give me my lighter back ... I′ma light up the bomb I′ma blaze ′til we set off the fire alarm No need for evacuation Find a honey that′s ill for ejaculation She got friends, well the more the merrier No limits, no worries, no more barriers [Chorus 2X: B-Real, mixed with samples] Once again it′s Cypress Hill We some ill-ass niggaz straight bumpin the field Smoke it up, from now until somebody calls out steel and we live for the thrill [Verse Two: B-Real] Plug the mic in, and I′ll move the crowd Neighbors get mad cause the music′s loud I send a few girls in the hall to talk Crusty old man never called the cops No pistols, if you get my drift yo You pull one and miss better slit yo′ wrists bro This ain′t a gangsta party But if you turn it into one a bullet might pierce yo′ body Relax, there′s a lot of girls in here You shitfaced niggaz, don′t earl in here Don′t break shit or take nothin, mind your manners Or your head goes BOOM like it′s fuckin skanless But we ain′t for all that right now, just chill out We can pop bottles or let the blood spill out Cuanta, suck it up, shut your trap Before you lose that fine-ass girl on your lap [Chorus] [Verse Three: B-Real] You wanna room? Let me clear one out But while I′m gone, just don′t let the beers run out In the morn′ we can watch all the tears come out When the pigs come, a nigga wanna hear one out For now, we can pass the time Blazin it up, if you slow you the last in line Got a roach, so what? You ain′t spent a dime You ungrateful-ass critter, back the hell of mine You can, lose the life or lose the knife Use the pipe, but I can′t lose tonight All the girls bein picky who they chose tonight You better hope you chillin with the right crew tonight See that girl over there? Yeah she like your style Probably seen her on the video ″Girls Gone Wild″ Hesitation is constipation of your game when you′re in for a night of elation [Chorus] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Chorus 2X] My game so strong, I can't go wrong My dough so long, baby why prolong Baby we get high, Baby we get dough Baby we can party all night till death come [Verse One] We been in the game for a long time Yes we're battle tested With the time and the emotion, and the money invested And if you think hard No one elses game is tighter Check the network, up in ya fucking service provider I bought you thug shit Thought you drug shit Got you bugged shit Tell me what we havent done We run you through course son Leave you understanding what the street life is But you haters never understand So eat my dick You better Get on your concentration If you ready to roll on me And good bitches if you wanna unload on me Cause if you miss you won't get that far Ill have you jumping fences And running down the treet like a track star I'm at the finish line, its essential We so influential Well strip you of your street credential Game recognize, game we all about Think you can deminish mine Look homey I got a career [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two] They call me dog homey Look I don't sell woof tickets I got my fingers on the trigger And I'm ready to click it I never back down Theres nothing you cand do to me nigga Who the fuck are you Your face is really new to me nigga You wanna run with the dog Try paying your dues homes Bum nigga yelling every time that I use chrome So many niggaz, aint none of them blast, the right lights In the woods be stunning their ass I took a chance To advance, in my life believe it It takes a stand to be a man Plus the gang conceited Fools trying to be hard They only act the role You little sorry ass bitches, Ill smack you hoes Try to fool people Make em think you something your not I'm exposing all you bitches By provoking the crowd Raw dogging, dying for some action, drama Your bitch shocked out Bullets through plastic dome [Chorus 2X] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
(Fuck you motherfucker! Untie me from this chair man
You better untie me from this chair nigga You know who the fuck I am, I will have you killed nigga! You better untie me motherfucker, fuck y'all motherfuckers man! Do you know who the fuck I am?) [beat drowns out the voice as a Cypress Hill member speaks] Right [duct tape being unrolled] Sho' you right You want a cigarette nigga? [B-Real] You was a good kid, your parents musta loved you They got you out of trouble no matter how big the bubble They gave you everything, nah you never needed nothin We used to get high, 'member we was weeded cousin We used to go to clubs, blaze it up and act crazy What made you turn around, was it drugs or your lady? We had good times, committin hood crimes We drew lines but you never understood mine You don't go fuckin homies, just like my momma told me I held my hood up boldly, you were a fuckin phony I guess it manifested when I got the call early They said you bunkered down in the hood with ol' girly She had your back covered, but that didn't matter did it? I know you're livin, but you put your fuckin self in it Don't try to make a move, nigga don't go fuckin 'dere I know you're hurtin cause you're tied up to the fuckin chair You never loved your family, you robbed that mall gladly They tried to love you sadly, you let 'em down badly Just call me Death's angel, but we were never strangers You 'bout to get mangled, that's truer than Kurt Angle Now it's time to pay, any last words to say? I know your mind strays, son I think you need to pray Don't even need to tell you, you were a smart nigga Save your teardrops, yo don't even start nigga You shoulda thought of that long ago before you fucked me You dodged me long enough, homey now you been lucky But now it's pay the piper, no fuckin traps or snipers Just the gas and lighter, caught up in the web of spiders But now you get devoured, burnin in the flames you coward This is the very hour, I send your family flowers I'm sure they all will miss you, but they will be good without you They'll reminisce and light a candle as they talk about you [Cypress Hill] Relax... no no it's okay Let me give you a light [muffled: "Oh SHIT!"] [flames roaring, a voice screaming] That's my favorite fucking song.. [in the background, "Pigs" by Cypress Hill plays] [B-Real] This pig harassed the whole neighborhood Well this pig worked at the station This pig he killed my Homeboy so the fuckin pig, went on a vacation This pig he is the chief Got a brother pig, Captain O'Malley He's got a son that's a pig too He's collectin pay-offs from a dark alley This pig's known as a narco.. [music fades] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[church bells gong]
[Verse One: B-Real] As a kid, I was known, son of a thug Snub-nosed .38 in the glove, who can relate with us? Never had an easy life, shit's way out Clips spray out, fools pay out or play out Any scenario, been there, done that Gone where some of y'all niggaz, couldn't come back Been through the hottest parts of hell Came back with a hard shell and, hard as nails I went through it all, do it all, screw it all Small you recall, the hard times as a juve-nile Often misunderstood Some joined the military, others just joined the hood Street corner combat, part of the dark streets Your heart beats pump when my slugs release And there ain't no tellin, don't be the one yellin These birds are deadly, they can shatter your melon [Chorus 2X: B-Real] When the street wars jump off, there's only one thing to do Grab your gat and squeeze one off This ain't the life of the soft ones who run off You got one shot to get you a knot [Verse Two: B-Real] At the crossroads, sick of holdin the badlands Where street wars, kick off quicker than Van Dam Mistakes of mad man, I remember the old ways The old days where fools clapped yo' {?} No quarter, you feel me? Life expectancy's just a little bit shorter G's gave the order, you carried 'em out Quick fast, you the last nigga I'm worried about Get that street lead, that was one step over the edge Much closer to death, every step I kept on Learnin about the dark paths, made a hard left Prayed to God death is swift and painless This life ain't for everyone, stay out my shoes You can't trade your fate, I hate to break the news The young won't respect the fences these days You a marked man if you get caught up in these ways [Chorus] [pause for spooky instrumental] [Chorus] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[B-Real]
How many times have we been thru this I can tell you that it's getting harder everytime I try to resist We go way back and you held me down Helped my feet moving on the ground No matter what situation ocasion You were amazing, you knew just what it took to keep dough up blazing (?) I kept you by me, but when we seperated I was thinkin foolishly Remember when your Ex-Boy tried to bug on me I told to bring it on and (?) on me He didn't like that but didn't want the fight Fuck 'im, he didn't know how to treat you right We go hand in hand they don't understand a man But you do and I really respect that, damn We been down so long but it's all good That's why I dedicate this song [Chorus: repeat 2X] Till Death Do Us Part I do [Verse Two: B-Real] Who would have thought it would last so long So many new ones think that they can't go wrong I know I make so many mistakes I know you felt neglected, you caught me outta line If you thought I didn't respect it - I heard ya But I never showed an emotion If I haven't ever said it, you got on my devotion When I fell hard you picked me up Maybe think about my life where I'm going a little tricky - Huh? I know there were time where you thought I would change But I'm the same motherfucking brother even in spite of the fame There might be some times we don't agree on some But don't never feel your thoughts don't mean nothing Some have tried to steal (?), I'm not one of those people Always tell it like it is, cuz the (?) but don't get mad When truth is leaving I'm only telling you cuz I got your back [Chorus] [Verse Threee: B-Real] You got my mind right and I don't know how you did it When I trip not too many who can put with it But you still there, still care so well - oh yeah Got so much love (?) I appreaciate what you're doing for me I had to open up my eyes so I can see the minutes we lost Whenever I was out on tour (?) we could make it up like never before You want all the little things that make it work it Why not, we can get it, we both deserve it It's hard but (?) good, it's ever so easy We have a bond that wont break, no mistake, believe me Till Death Do Us Part, like I said from the start You're the light that guides me thru when I'm in the dark They said we'd neverlast but we're still strong That's why I dedicate this song - C'mon [Chorus - 4X] [sound of someone blowing out a candle] I do I do [music fades] |
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| from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004) | |||||
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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2001)
Lowrider"
(feat. Mellow Man Ace) (Mellow Man Ace: repeat 2X) Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der.. (Intro: B-Real + (Mellow Man Ace)) Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby Got that junk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three (low-ri-der) So pop your collar, give a holla, throw yo' dubs in the air We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der) Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight (B-Real) Now when people are done, bumpin they head to this You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this We been makin you bounce, for many years already Rock steady and cut, many niggaz to confetti But I just want to blaze it up; whether it's the mic or a spliff Yes my gift is to amaze you all Thought I couldn't come for ten my friend, but guess what? I slay niggaz and still savin my best nut (low-ri-der) But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when I spit it out and start some flowin I drop rhymes that grow like trees you're smokin Ear drums feel like lungs, your brain's chokin Just let it soak in, seep in, creep in I'm keepin, all you motherfuckers in the deep end (low-ri-der) You wanna trip? Then I got luggage I stuff you in and send you off, cause you ain't rugged (Chorus + (Mellow Man Ace)) Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby Got that junk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street (low-ri-der) We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three So pop yo' collar, give a holla, throw the dubs in the air (low-ri-der) We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der) Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight (B-Real & Sen Dog) Cause, we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us Just get inside, we bouncin dippin, chop it up real tough Lean to the side, pimp yo' hat, tilt yo' seat on back Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack (low-ri-der) (Sen Dog) I be the vato with the fine hoodrat in the ranfla Always roll deep on the streets like the mafia Pleito, just might come back and haunt ya Flossin too much, no vato's gonna want ya Not right here homes, we're past all of that Makin that feria, spittin that raps Ya me conoces, I'm down for my calle Cypress Ave, y a pudo les madre (low-ri-der) Ya tu sabes, we don't play that shit Any pendejo's gettin hit up quick Whassup ese? What hood you claim? Now throw it up and down like it ain't no thang (low-ri-der) Hands in the air with the pinky rings Soul Assassins, runnin everything To all you vatos, make sure you check this In every barrio, I'm well respected (low-ri-der) (Chorus) (Mellow Man Ace: repeat 4X to fade) Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der.. |
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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2001)
B-Real :
It's been a while now Been around the block many miles Many faces, many places that I found friends Places where I spend time, places where my mind roam Places I can call home Places I can get stoned I just wanna be alone When I'm feelin' in my zone People want to knock me down 'cos they never have their own They won't get the best of me But they try hopelessly Why you wanna fuck wit' me? I'm not, what you s'posed to be? You could not give a DAMN Coulda just Killed A Man Sawn off in my hand But I had to kill the plan Think I've found my piece of mind Feet planted on the ground I just had to redefine, what I thought to myself It all goes around me and others who would down me Who I don't give a fuck about, Trouble always found me, I know used to welcome it with my arms open wide, Trouble's hand's on the door, but it can't come INSIDE! Chorus: NO TROUBLE'S AT MY DOOR! You want trouble, c'mon, You want trouble? You want trouble, c'mon You want trouble? Sen Dog: Trouble on the line, all the fuckin' time Got me contemplatin' the solution, the fusion my wicked mind Got suckers that hate me but it don't really matter I'm like a gat when I bust, niggas run and scatter Movin' in circles, throwin' elbows and fists You got to be a real nigga in a Cypress Hill pit Lotta critics talkin' shit, but I'm not concerned A hundred G's for sixty minutes is the bank I earn I try to put it to you BLUNTLY so you bitches can learn That no-body get tired when it's time to burn With so many phonies out there a lot of you have been fooled In to actually believin' that some shit is cool Take the blinders off and go look for yourself Fuck hearin' about shit from somebody else I'm down for myself, I back up myself Put in all on the line make sure that I'M FELT! Chorus: NO TROUBLE'S AT MY DOOR! You want trouble, c'mon, You want trouble? You want trouble, c'mon You want trouble? B-Real : Nooooo! B-Real: Look, the wall's closin' in and my shoe's wearin' thin Had to be the biggest clown that you couldn't comprehend Some hated on my game, said I wouldn't be the same Called me "Rock Superstar", "Insane In The Brain" But I know I haven't changed So I brush you to the side Trouble's knockin' on the door, Anxious jus' to come inside 'times I gotta block it out, no-one likes to talk it out Trouble keeps comin' and I can't seem to lock it out Got my hands on the phone, I don't wanna have to talk If you're feelin funky son, then I guess you gotta jump I can see it in your eyes, you don't seem to recognise I wouldn't fall into your trap, for many lives to compromise I'm not fallin' for your shit, you ain't gonna take me there You can talk all you want, but I don't got your weight to bear Chorus: NO, TROUBLE'S AT MY DOOR! {You want trouble right now? C'mon You want trouble right now? C'mon} B-Real: You want trouble, c'mon You want trouble? (Repeat 4x) |
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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2001)
(*Yes y'all ? cut and scratched*)
(B-Real) You're a lost soul rollin down the street Hustlin, scramblin, money you eat You wanna jack somebody, never look at me Cause I'm like you when I'm holdin heat You don't want to think about re-percussions Cause you don't give a f**k about who you rushin So what you gonna do when the blood is gushin? You're playin Roulette without the Russian The stakes are high; can you feel the pressure? Lookin at the club on top of your dresser Born for the big bank robbin your own Thinkin your stone but your weak ass throne Bitches like you ain't got no heart Paranoid, you're settin in, fallin apart How many times will you take to see it? You fallin away, but you don't believe it (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) Jack me and you'll never go back Jack me and I'll jack you back Where y'all bitches got the scheme or the stack? Jack me and I'll jump to attack Tell me what started a scheme at ya lap Jack me and I'll jump to attack Jack me and I'll jack you back Jack me and I'll jack you back (Sen Dog) Clothes are settin off from the start I'm crazy as f**k just like 2 Pac Mash on Cypress Hill in a Catalac truck Steels all gone, so I gotta play it ruff Got hate for do out there, I ain't jokin Can't hold me back these days, I'm out smokin And I still see myself as Enforcer Knock em in their face if they dedicate closer A Cuban massive man (Spanish) With real attack touch straight, from the ghetto Walk for a twenty all day like a (Spanish) Spit ball; lick all rhymes just like (Spanish) I run over fools like Dorsey Leathers And murder antiques like J-Rhyme I kill peasants Take over ships like Female Kastro Do anything that a nigga HAS TO (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) Jack me and you'll never go back Jack me and I'll jack you back Where y'all bitches got the scheme or the stack? Jack me and I'll jump to attack Tell me what started a scheme at ya lap Jack me and I'll jump to attack Jack me and I'll jack you back Jack me and I'll jack you back (Jack you back, jack you back) (B-Real) Lights are f**ked up it's confusin Look at you now what road you choosin You'll never be a part of the revolution You f**k with me, feel the retribution Punk bitches can never deal with the real Cause you weak motherf**kers can't decide what you feel Always poppin shit and hide from the Hill Comin out where you reside for the kill (Sen Dog) Knocked out Pluto, Super Hill thriller Verbal assault, Soul Assassin killer Real master Mic, ca, sex come iller Stoned is a waste over, what you feeler Can't make moves so you go ask Chiller Try the Real Estate trust centipede riller Bet your ass that I'm bangin to the fullest And don't get in my way punk ass, not a Buddhist (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) Jack me and you'll never go back Jack me and I'll jack you back Where y'all bitches got the scheme or the stack? Jack me and I'll jump to attack Tell me what started a scheme at ya lap Jack me and I'll jump to attack Jack me and I'll jack you back Jack me and I'll jack you back |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
[Intro] * "Say what?" scratched repeatedly * [Sen Dog] I be that, short-temper, hostile rhyme bringer Lifestyle gone wild, similar to rock singers Check me on the big screen, livin' out my dreams Cypress, Assassins, SX, latin thug thing Fools think they get bad, I ain't really with that Flavour of the month, bro, (?) try to dispatch Always got the good badge, take it to the head Got me wasted like Jerry from the Grateful Dead Don't trip, get a grip, be strong and don't fake it Or else you get beat down, an' stripped butt-naked I just kick the lyric, straight from the spirit You can tell I got soul first time as you hear it Chorus - Sen Dog and B-Real (repeat 2x) Welcome to the show, all come inside You can hear proper sound when it's Amplified You wanna party with the best and say "fuck the rest" 'Cos we take away ya stress and never settle for less [B-Real] When you deal with the Hill, keep your mouth still If you rely on your skill then rely on your steel If you have no ideal, or any thoughts to feel What you sought was real, to give 'em slots to fill Busters stop to deal But I face them, quicker than takin' a box of pills Now you gots to chill Get cops and sheilds, steady, hark the (?) If they're lookin' for prey, ready to stalk and kill As I lock the wheel, don't you mock the drill 'Cos I'll cock my steel, make you drop and spill Got no mercy unless you talk to deal Quit talk and kneel, you won't top my will, bitch! Chorus (repeat 2x) * "Say what?" scratched some more* [Sen Dog] Ain't no-body better, on that you can bet (CY-PRESS!) Wanna see a dope show? Put your money on my set Real emcees and real DJs Real South-siders from the heart of LA Now, back in the day we had big sucess And it's like that now and we won't settle for less You can beat the LB from the new latin lingo Nowadays you nothin', without a hit single Time to get loco, and put bodies in motion Hit the stage in a rage, and start up a commotion No I ain't jokin, see my mic smokin'? I slam it like the art and make sure it's broken Chorus (repeat 2x) *scratching to fade* |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
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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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
[Sen Dog] Bout to mash these niggaz man Don't come in my backyard motherfucker Hahaha, B-Real and the DOG, motherfucker! Ha! Yeah Here we go y'all, that's the nigga head dog Lunatic smokin loops, loose in your sector Got my eye on em, on the apparatus like a bone to a dog, yea you know I gotta have it Anywhere you get it shit, and I'ma grab it Turn around stares to your face and I jab it Drop you, like one of those ill bad habits Hunt you, like a hillbilly huntin a rabbit Cuttin niggaz up like Muggs on the wheels for reals, penetentiary steel Pull heads to bed from the choke of a headlock Fadin baldheads to perms, even dreadlocks BWOY, rudebwoy with me style I can get foul or wild, or just cool for a while Chorus: B-Real, Sen Dog (Checkmate fool!) Hang em high Got the live shit, bang em whenever you/he wanna try Shoot to thrill, be at the Hill, I/we take em all (Checkmate fool!) Wherever the pawns fall * repeat 2X * [B-Real] Look look punk, every way you get shook To the pawn, takin out the rook, off of the book Lights get tooken, taken you for Satan You can't breathe, no need to look up and see me The last hope, when you mellow you call whoever For the hype shit, you call the Hill, put it together Runnin this game, bringin the same, raw shit Over the hills, through the city we come equipped to the letter, keepin your temperature down low What I reveal, the good shit to heal all souls Makin you roll late night, you trippin, my game's tight To the new shit I bring, never the same hype so PUSH THAT SHIT OFF, get up, don't let off No matter how much blood you spit up You could never be, fuckin with Greenthumb The outcome's specific, you spliff it, collapsed lung We hit hard, breakin your guard, you can't tell when the bells ring, bustin your shell, the pawn fell Chorus (Peek-a-Boo, you fuck you!) [Sen Dog] I'ma freak that funk yea slam it in the trunk I'ma kill all junk with the suicide clunk Ain't nobody came my way, talkin bout the Westside of L.A., so whatever punk-ass click you claim, you keep bumpin that shit and elevate your frame, cause I want that big-time, asshole, studio gangsta Worth a lot of shit, but that's not the main factor [B-Real] My nigga Sen's rollin again, remember when we rocked shows, battlin foes, the time's been long Strong with the styles, you ain't hear to win Like blood pourin out of the pen, the ink stains Slim chance if it gets in your brain, the hot flash got you heated with repeated attacks over the tracks Smack niggaz up, back niggaz up, hack niggaz up Jack niggaz up, hangin the wack niggaz up Snowball effect, we rollin the city limits Crushin the bitch-ass niggaz with all the gimmicks Chorus [Sen Dog] Checkmate fool! |
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3:48 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
[Sen Dog] 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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4:51 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
(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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3:23 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
Intro: Sen Dog 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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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... (B-Real): 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 smokinest, 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, yesca, humble pound weed, the crypt, the choclate tide, the afgani, the michoacan, the indo, the skunka, the bad breath sense (cough). Hello everyone, I'm Kurt Loaded, we're here in 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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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 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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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 boulevard I'm a natural born cap peela', strapped illa I'm the west coast settin' it on, no one's reala' Getcha 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 took 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 take a, few steps back I'm on a plane to Jamaica 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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4:28 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"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, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (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, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
[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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5:02 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"Bitch-ass motherfucka! Peter Pie ass nigga! Stand on your own two feet
bitch! How the fuck you gon' bite somebody else's dick, nigga? Yours ain't long enough to put in your mouth! What's up with that shit?" (Background): "'Turn that shit up louder!' Muggs, make it rough." So many fools swingin' from my sack Let's talk about the one who had my back Down in the west coast, so lemme kick it To the motherfucker who calls himself "wicked" No rest, no peace, no sleep Doughboy rolling down the Hill 'cause it's all steep Jackson, lemme figure out the name Jack 'cause you be stealing other niggaz' game But I'm the wrong nigga you wanna fuck with On my dick so hard, now ya wanna suck it Go on the head, gobble up the nuts Get your lips ready and tear this motherfucker up Talk about Eazy, correct yourself Cube, better sit back and check yourself "Yeah, nigga! My homie thought he had a homie in you. He let you listen to our motherfuckin' cut, and you turned around and put some old "Friday" shit out. What kind of shit is that?" Hmmm... Let's talk about this First solo album on the east coast dick The east coast niggaz all showed ya love Especially the one known as the King Sun He tried to warn us niggaz about ya But nobody would listen Even began dissin' Two albums later, you callin' my crew All because ya wanna be Cypress Cube Shoulda known that you couldn't hang in the alley Good boy went to school out in the valley Fuck it, lemme make this understood Speakin' on Mama's little 'Boys in the Hood' "No Vaseline" Just a rope and a chair and gasoline (burning your ass up!) Lench Mob is a friend of mine But you talked about them niggaz from behind "You know what a chazzer is, O'Shea? A motherfucking pig that don't fly straight" Where ya gonna run to? Where ya gonna hide? Taadow, look at who's waitin' outside "I got a can of kick-ass wit' your motherfuckin' name on it, Cube. You wanna come collect it, or should I bring it to you? 'Cause all that bullshit you doin', ain't shit fly about that shit... motherfuckin' thing, and I ain't bullshittin'. You beat them back then fuck off, and that's real. Kick rocks buster." Natural Born Bullshitta Lemme hit ya with a dose of reality when I get wit' ya Your homie came knockin', he had to chain my suit You put a pipe on your cover, even though you don't smoke Buddha Let me take you down under on a plane While everybody was going insane Took a look at the Real one: afro gone The next morning, you didn't have yours on How many ways will you bite my shit? Would ya wet me or start throwing up a set? Caution, when you enter the zone Never used to bang 'til you hit the microphone I got Cube melting in a tray Pulling up his card and fucking up his "good day" Unoriginal rap veteran The nigga who say he don't steal from his friends Don't trust that nigga named O'Shea Fuck 'im, and send him on his way! "Cypress muthafuckin' Hill, the hardest mothafuckin' posse there is out here nigga. So how d'you figure you was gonna step to this? Yeah nigga, the big damn-wham-bam Cypress Hill. Tibby-tibby-toe fool, all for your mothafuckin' dope. Nigga, you can't hang with the hill. W' the fuck you was thinkin' about? You know you step to this, you gotta step correct, 'cause Cypress ain't havin' that shit. Yeah nigga, we crack and fuck you next, who gives a fuck, a mad fuck? So bring it on, if you wanna test it." |
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4:37 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Ezekial 25:17
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. AND YOU WILL KNOW MY NAME IS THE LORD, WHEN I LAY MY VENGEANCE UPON THEE! (Shots fired) 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! Ahh, now that the mind is open so one can clearly see what they clearly don't want you to see. But it's obvious, isn't it my brother? Get the smoke from in the front of your eyes, got to realize, anybody don't like it: move 'em on out. |
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2:57 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
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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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Let me introduce myself
I'm the one who rose the cess So don't you forget Bad rolled ya help But you still be trying to push buttons But you ain't nothing, no fronting I bring the level up a little louder In the clubs in the jeeps in the after hours Fools on the street want to feel the funk Lookin for the skunk that's what you want Ya better, sit back and let the track flow Like smoke in your lungs from puffing on the endo Rythems upside ya brain Can ya hang can ya maintain Can ya feel the funk flowing in ya veins Get ya fix and a bag of tricks And the mixer got the stix and stones a few bricks I'm gonna hit em high, he's gonna hit em low Open up your mind so that you can feel the flow On and on till there all gone fools be runing But they won't last long (I'm the freaker) x 8 People always want to get what you got No matter what Can't together themselves in the big hunt In the quest for the crown and the jewels And the cheese muther f*cker please And the mees want to plot against me With envy in there hearts But I rip there sorry arse apart In a minute I can take it to the limit Tempreture rising now so highsing Coming back in with the lows For the fools F*cking up beako's and any body for fools (anybody fools) The number one skunk freaker A cypress hill beaker (the cypress hill sleaker esse) Blowing a hole in your speaker You don't want to test the phero The real one or the wedo Slanging rythems to the ghetto Ya best keep your arse in check (come on) Little muther f*uckers that show respect And what's next the big brown taking you down (and what's next) How you feel when your sorry arse can't hang with the hill (with the hill) (little punk) (I'm the freaker) x4 Can you feel the effects of the chocolate ties Nobody even knows how I kick the flow Slow down coz your coming up to fast You might get smacked down Coz you got no class No code now i'm getting down the road My shits the bomb to explode Take cover you get blown to bits Fades out |
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3:36 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Hey ese look at these two motherfuckers right here homes
What you thinkin' homes Wait `till he turns around homes [Echoed] Watch-out All right I got your back homes, let's go Come on ese let's go Let's do it You don't wanna turn your back on me When you least expect it I come with the wicked method I'm creepin' on ya Now you find your homeboys bleedin' on ya Just the locotes Drumin' out the potes Got a new hollay Jackin' in the noche Give me your faya In your pocket or they'll carry ya Off and bury ya We got in the east side every guy Four and three and two and one Thievery don't stop `till I get done Sometimes I don't even need my gatt But shit's gettin' deep and I gotta blast back `Two' thievery `One' robbery `One' robbery 'Cause jackin' is my hobby Give out that money, jewlery and your keys To the five-o outside on wheels Later out with the `85 Mustang One-time got me on the radar Pousha And ya don't stop `till I'm done Now the Puercos got me on the run Police Radio: "LA-14 in pursuit of two immigrant suspects armed on 187. Headed northbound on central and Ninety-second. Armed two suspects believed to be in 1985 red Mustang license plate Lincoln Charles David Bullshit Madelin three two. Armed and dangerous suspects known to be..." You don't wanna turn your back on me When you least expect it I got your keys in my possession With my Smith & Wesson Takin' out all my aggression Check it out ese You're lookin' at the jefe Off that clicker with a big bad trece I'll teach you a lesson No question Get your ass out, now you're passin' out When ya looked at the cuete Four and three and two and one The robbery don't stop `till I get done Some niggas do this shit for fun Now the Puercos got me on the run From barrio To barrio Lookin?for any barrio Cesario Hangin' out wit' Mario Lookin' for a place to hide On the west side Spank got my back over there it right And it don't stop `till I'm done Now the one-time got me on the run [Police radio] "LA-14, we have spotted the vehicle, suspects nowhere in sight... Aw shit!" [Two shots ring out] How you like me now puto? Fuck you pig Let' go homes It's the fuckin' bus eh Get on ese Right here homes One-times not down with us Now they lookin' for my ride, but I'm on the bus Don't turn your back on a rapper like me `Cause I'm one broke motherfucker in need Desperate What's goin' on in the mente Takin' from the rich an' not from my gente Look at that gabacho slipping Borracho from the cerveza he's sipping No me vale madre Gabacho prey to your padre This is one the time you wanna give me the jale Four and three and two and one This old muthafucka got him a gun BLAM! I took one to the knee-cap Things happened so fast Now I dropped my strap Now I'm about to meet my maker Though I had it all figured out with a paper No longer will I be running Last thing I heard was the fucking gatt humming |
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1:46 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Look at all these m.c's tryin to get dap,
But all they get; a peeled back dome cap. I'm not the one to be havin that shit, All the punk niggas better bow down and submit. Niggas don't know how to keep it real. Only a few niggas know the real deal. Fuck all the bullshit, cypress hill! Come's rainning on your brain, bringin the blood stain. Smeared on the side walk, one more dome. Of the preditor skull hanging in my home. The big game hunter, fuckin up shit . Get your ass back; while the hill's in the cut. Fool get in the circle lets see if your raw? Hardcore ass vato might hit the fuckin floor. Glock's, and sig's, and m-1 clips. For any busters who wanna flip. Fat s.a. ring shining in your eye. Soul of an assassin till i die. Red light visions in your dome piece, Nightmares goin through your head don't cease. Look at you now broke down, and done. No competition can ever get none. |
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4:31 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
B-Real:
I neva rapped on an RandB 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 industry, Sellin' out for the fame, I just sit back and watch thes fools with their gimmicks, Go down in flames , in the big game, B-Real: 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 articles, In them magazines 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 industry that's take'n all ya dough, I never 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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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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3:03 |
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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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4:04 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
I wake up every morning kiss my wife goodbye
hug my kids tell 'em I love 'em I'm out hit the ride. I'm out on patrol in my squad car in LA. where you never know if you'll be making it home today So many different attitudes that I come across I'm harden and scarred and I ain't feeling nobody's loss hustlers, hookers, killers, and thieves out on the street got my mind warped just found another corpse on the beat bound gagged rapes I'm frustrated I hate it found a woman in the dumpster body was mutilated bad dreams all up in my head no lie sometimes I got to take a sniff so I could get by why don't I get help to settle my nerves I got the erg to merge this bullet with my brain release my pain what a fuckin shame I don't wanna live I'll paint the wall with the bloodstains eye of the pig I see it all (hook) Through the eye of the pig..repeat (scratches) I've been on the force over twenty years I can say that I'm worse than some of these mother fuckers I put away I'm in the biggest gang you ever saw above the law looking through the eye of the pig I see it all. drug abusers drug dealin and the gangbang pieces of shit who should be on the fuckin noose hanging. These days you can't tell who's who in the world Is that a shore or is that an innocent young girl. Fuck I need a drink and I'm almost of at the precinct its like an AA meeting all gone wrong. I.A got an eye on my close friend Guy for take supply from evidence from a bust on a buy that doesn't concern me we never rat on eachother we went through the academy just like fratbrothers its midnight I only have an hour left on my shit I think I'll get my dick sucked by this bitch my marriage is all fuck my wife is with the neighbors supeanaed now I gotta sign thse fuckin divorce papers I recall happier times before the fall looking through the eye of the pig I see it all. (hook) Through the eye of the pig..repeat (scratches) Now I'm on my way back to the station to check out so I could go home relax take a drink and think about my abrupt change out of the clean to the corrupt looking through the eye of the pig I'm all fucked no longer can I determine who's the criminal to the innocent man down to the pedafile no one give a fuck about me I'm slippin into darkness I'm coming to grips and feelin heartless What's this a dark green truck tinted windows dually modified probably a drug dealer pulled over to the curb take you key out of the ignition raise your hands out the windows in the get 'em high position don't move or I'll blast your fuckin head off just tell me where the guns and dope are and you'll get off don't give that bullshit I've heard about your raps I'll your talking about is slangin and shooting off your straps okay Mr. B Real get the fuck out of the truck I love it how all you fuckin rappers think you're so tuff get your ass out I don't no probable-cause you got a big sack of coke so take a pause. |
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3:37 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
1st verse -- Senen
Here we go yall its that nigga hecta lunatic Smokin loop loose in your sector got my eye on the money apparatus like a dog to a bone yeah, you know I gotta have it Anywhere near the shit and I'm a grab it Turn around spin see your face and jab it Drop you like one of these ill Bad Habits Hunt you like a HillBilly Huntin Rabbit cutting niggas up like Muggs on the wheel For real penitentiary steel Put heads to Bed from a choke of a Head Lock Fadin bald heads to perms and even dred locks Bway Rude boy wit my Style I could get foul or wild Or breakfool for awhile 2nd verse -- B Real Look, look, look everywhere you get shook, from the pawn takin out the rook all by the book. Lives get took and takin you're pulsating, you Can't breath no need to look up and see me. Your last hope, when you want mellow you call whoever, for the hype shit you call the Hill put it together. Runnin this game, bringin the same raw shit, over the Hill and through the city we come equipt. To the letter bringin your temperature down low, what I reveal, the good shit to heal all souls. Makin you roll late night, you're trippin my games tight. With the new shit I bring it's never the same hype. So push that shit up, get up don't let up. No matter how much blood you spit up. You can never be fuckin with Greenthumb. the outcome specific, you spliff it calapsed lung. We hit hard breakin you guard you can tell when the bells ring we're bustin your shell the pawns fell. (Hook) Check mate fool, Hang 'em high. Got the live shit bangin, when ever you wanna try. Shoot to thrill, via the Hill we take 'em all, check mate fool where ever the pawns fall....(repeat) I'm a freak that funk and slam it in the trunk I'm a kill all junk With a suicide punk Ain't nobody came my way Talkin' bout the Westide of LA So whatever punk ass Click you claim Keep poppin that shit And I'm a bent you frame 'Cause I want that Big time asshole Studio gangsta Woof all of that shit But left out the main factor My nigga Sen's, rollin again remember when, we rocked shows battling foes, the time's been long. Strong with the styles you're in hear the wind. Like blood pourin out of the pen the ink stains slim chance if it get in your brain. The hot flash got you heated, with repeated attacks over the tracks smack niggas up, back niggas up, hack niggas up, jack niggas up, hangin the whack niggas up. Snowfall effect we're rollin the city limits crushin the bitch ass niggas with all the gimics...(HOOK). |
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5:00 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
(B-Real)
Now lately I've been findin myself, pourin my guts out Expressin my thoughts, lettin my nuts out in the walls of sleep, I can't keep it all in the hall clear While others keep it inside for the pride they hold dear Shoulda been, woulda been, coulda been the cops Stop look and listen, you'll get a vision of hip-hop Individuals lookin to the battle the shadows of man See it all, be it all, you need a plan It takes one man to understand this Learn fuckin with a deadly gas, you get burned From the window of my room, I shoot all stars Every little bit you consume, the high cost of living it's all given to you, don't lose it Every man's given a tool, but don't use it (Chorus: B-Real) From the window of my room, I shoot all stars Every little bit you consume, the high cost Break free, you're selling your soul, for a fee But all that shit ain't worth it, you burnin up see the window of my room, I shoot all stars Every little bit you consume, is high cost Break free, you're selling your soul, for a fee But all that shit ain't worth it, you burnin up see (B-Real) From the window of my room, the gloom spreadin across the land of milk and honey, no money to feed the boss Funny the cost of life, cut clean blood streams out the body, nobody wants you dreamin about shorty No longer don't need a 40 to take away any pain So punk me and I'll give you the world exact change or quote me and you're never the same, I claim no one I show none the weakness individuals go forth ya seek this Wherever I roam is home to me You Shogun, look at my enemies try to do me The influential status, you know the baddest Lookie here, show you what that is, bringin the madness Sadness to those appealin to any conflict Lookin out my window pane, I see you fallin What are you a man or a mouse, the house light shinin within, that's when you begin to live again (Chorus) (Sen Dog) From my window I can see Humanity, goin insane G Everybody want respect, but you gotta collect Only hardcore vatos on the set Don't get me wrong but some rhymes get twisted There it goes, the pride, you missed it I ain't upset with the motherfucker dissin Find me in Watts when you wanna come hit me Some shit ain't what it seems, in the land of dreams Some sell their soul to get the cream From the teens I don't sling or slang no crack I'm known for bringin in funky ass raps See those magazine crews and I'm a goner Dull interviews with these damn primadonnas Unlike some of these fools on the turf Look like the real thing, but they soft like Nerfs So unrehearsed that it shows in the product Need to get the fuck out, before you get caught up (Chorus) |
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