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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
{Capitan Pingaloca}
"Esto no me gusta. Aqui la gente, la gente no sirve pa' mierda. Aqui yo soy, yo soy Capitan Pingaloca. Y to' mundo aqui, me sirve a mi o va pa'l carajo. Oye... revolucion compadre!" {B-Real} In the midst of the madness no question, who's the baddest MC's in the game runnin for the status Take a few seconds to review the crews Sittin on top is the Hill lookin over you Killa Hill Niggas, cream in my dream Cookin up a scheme for all them big bank figures The world is yours, but it can be mine and his Bust you out the frame, I don't give a fuck who it is Number one mission, opposition Get thrown sent home in dead position In the casket, best wishes At the bottom of the lake, sleepin with the fishes Full out search for the body of the MC's who be comin to disrupt the party No wins, no ends, no way that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again! {RZA} Check my dramatics, brains get splattered, dreams shattered Sabas get blasted for words he packaged Peep the sequence; crab adolescents, on his defense Power-U niggaz talkin fast like Puerto Ricans What you seekin, son I catch cream like Dominicans Last Mohican, lyrics I'm speakin, wild as Indians Tomahawk - Shaolin slang, the violent talk Upstate New York, where chumps get extorted for Newports What you thought? {B-Real} Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again {Capitan Pingaloca} "Y ya esta dicho. Todos los que no les guste mi 'rebote' van a morir Yo le voy a meter una bala a la cabeza a cualquier maricon, que no me persiga a mi a la 'singadapuerta'. Oye, hijo puta! Quiero quemarte la cara!" {U-God} Words drop in chant, the cheeky-eyed slant I'm takin these cannabis plants yo for grant' Exotic, narcotic, tunes slam soon From a dune in the desert Mega-Babylon pleasure Comin out the domepiece, smell my aroma Warrior nomad, put you in a coma Comma, llama, smash-crashin your armor Drama, I'm a, stealth aircraft bomber Here is where I dwell at the gates o' hell It ain't where you're from it's where you're in the mentals And if not yo, credentials are essential I see reality, few things surroundin me Three like a spread, precise strikes the lyric Not frontin or braggin, hundred percent red dragon Pine fragranced lyrics, the rhymes you can't imagine The globe-trotter, call me Meadowlark Lemon Five part criminal, two part felon {B-Real} - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back.. ease back.. Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger.. {Capitan Pingaloca} "Esta dicho! Aqui, la revelacion! No se la ve por television. Todos los maricones del norte, que los voy a matar yo. Va a ser aqui en nuestro pais. Y todos los 'singamasones', que estan singando un mundo. Tambien, van a ver la muerte de ellos mismos, lo en las manos de ellos. Un dia, va a ser sangre, mucha sangre. La peste de los cuerpos muertos, vas a oir, que se va a hueler. Hasta los Estados Unidos, estos cabrones, que con la democracia, que nos 'tan singando en el culo. Todos son unos mismos cabrones..." |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
{Capitan Pingaloca}
"Esto no me gusta. Aqui la gente, la gente no sirve pa' mierda. Aqui yo soy, yo soy Capitan Pingaloca. Y to' mundo aqui, me sirve a mi o va pa'l carajo. Oye... revolucion compadre!" {B-Real} In the midst of the madness no question, who's the baddest MC's in the game runnin for the status Take a few seconds to review the crews Sittin on top is the Hill lookin over you Killa Hill Niggas, cream in my dream Cookin up a scheme for all them big bank figures The world is yours, but it can be mine and his Bust you out the frame, I don't give a fuck who it is Number one mission, opposition Get thrown sent home in dead position In the casket, best wishes At the bottom of the lake, sleepin with the fishes Full out search for the body of the MC's who be comin to disrupt the party No wins, no ends, no way that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again! {RZA} Check my dramatics, brains get splattered, dreams shattered Sabas get blasted for words he packaged Peep the sequence; crab adolescents, on his defense Power-U niggaz talkin fast like Puerto Ricans What you seekin, son I catch cream like Dominicans Last Mohican, lyrics I'm speakin, wild as Indians Tomahawk - Shaolin slang, the violent talk Upstate New York, where chumps get extorted for Newports What you thought? {B-Real} Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again {Capitan Pingaloca} "Y ya esta dicho. Todos los que no les guste mi 'rebote' van a morir Yo le voy a meter una bala a la cabeza a cualquier maricon, que no me persiga a mi a la 'singadapuerta'. Oye, hijo puta! Quiero quemarte la cara!" {U-God} Words drop in chant, the cheeky-eyed slant I'm takin these cannabis plants yo for grant' Exotic, narcotic, tunes slam soon From a dune in the desert Mega-Babylon pleasure Comin out the domepiece, smell my aroma Warrior nomad, put you in a coma Comma, llama, smash-crashin your armor Drama, I'm a, stealth aircraft bomber Here is where I dwell at the gates o' hell It ain't where you're from it's where you're in the mentals And if not yo, credentials are essential I see reality, few things surroundin me Three like a spread, precise strikes the lyric Not frontin or braggin, hundred percent red dragon Pine fragranced lyrics, the rhymes you can't imagine The globe-trotter, call me Meadowlark Lemon Five part criminal, two part felon {B-Real} - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back.. ease back.. Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger.. {Capitan Pingaloca} "Esta dicho! Aqui, la revelacion! No se la ve por television. Todos los maricones del norte, que los voy a matar yo. Va a ser aqui en nuestro pais. Y todos los 'singamasones', que estan singando un mundo. Tambien, van a ver la muerte de ellos mismos, lo en las manos de ellos. Un dia, va a ser sangre, mucha sangre. La peste de los cuerpos muertos, vas a oir, que se va a hueler. Hasta los Estados Unidos, estos cabrones, que con la democracia, que nos 'tan singando en el culo. Todos son unos mismos cabrones..." |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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3:23 |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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from Cypress Hill - Throw Your Set In The Air [single] (1995)
Every Nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you-this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for ya neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on ya mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ????????? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero, uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter La scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air, and wave it around like ya just don't care Throw... Throw... Throw... Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw... Throw... Throw... |
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4:01 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Boom biddy bye bye
Boom biddy bye bye Step back as I'm kicking up dust For a while As I put mothafuckas to rest And pull their files Out from the cabinet With the picture Get the 45 and settle it With this punk nigger Slow your roll As I take control Take your toke from the Indo' Then hit and hold Now let it out How you feel when the herb Got you by the balls And you're coughing up a lung anyhow You can't shake That nigger that's gonna brake Fool On any one member of your bitch crew As I pull the trigger On my nine Say goodnight nigger Boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye You ain't never caught a rabbit So you ain't no friend of mine It's a habit Barkin' up your tree with my nine Keep your bitch on a leash or at home A nick knack Paddywack Give the dog a bone The raw dog Fuck a law dog Still handin' out beat-downs wit' my sawed-off 'Cause a every now and then I got to knuckle up Buckle up Chin checking It's on I reckon It's the wild wild west Get your 40 and your blunt and your Glock and your bulletproof vest Let me guess Everybody wanna test Everybody burning up, gonna get burned like Ses Laudy daudy We're fucking everybody Boom biddy bye Sing the lullaby In the party Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Yes yes ya'll To the beat ya'll Watch a punk slipin' see the pouta fall I'm buck-loody Looking for the nigga who wanna cut me 'Cause the nigger gets so funky Fool I'm the one From The big bad Cypress Hill clique, a Number one son of the funk freaka Yes yes ya'll I'll be the one with the mad Buddha blast ya'll Comin' from the west ya'll But I figure You'd cry like a bitch Don't twitch 'Cause I just might pull the trigga Now lay down Stay down Don't move a muscle if you see your homeboy's brains on the ground Don't fuck don't say nothin' You fuck around and I might get ragamuffin Boom biddy bye bye Line up on the floor now you' all gonna die Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye It's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Time to say good-bye Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die |
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4:01 |
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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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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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3:03 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"This sure is. I got data on crazy shit for round the corner you know
The homeboys and the brothers be slangin' this shit But anyway, (everybody must get stoned (x4)) You over there singin' some shit, talkin' 'bout Everybody must get stoned I don't know but that shit sounds good to me" [Verse 1] Hit the joint, up the bomb, take a puff Till you just can't get enough Of the sunk a punk Pick an endo, wanna take control But the primaso puff on the endo (keep puffin') Let me take it in then I let it out (let it out) One of you motherfuckers pass the barred owl Peace to the niggaz in all the Budha spots Slangin' fat bags o' weed and runnin from the cops (runnin' from them fools) I hit the leno then pass it on To the cypha' of dreadlocks gettin' stoned (All the dreadlocks lya') >From the fat joint twisted at the end 'Cos I get high with a little help from my friends (from my friends) [Chorus] Everybody must get stoned I said everybody must get stoned (Everybody must get stoned)*variations* (x4) [Verse 2] Hit the blunt of the bong, take your dope Now my head's in a cloud of smoke and no joke Called 'the uptight', motherfuckers puttin' me down 'Cos I talk about the green shit in every town (Everywhere I go) You right in front of me, I can't see ya I'm blind and faded and I get the G-rock And everything's gonna be alright When I pass that toochi from the left-hand side Niggaz is havin' a good time tonight Roll it up, hold it up, pass me the fucking light (Gimme that lighter) Indoor on the home-grown Light it up, everybody must get stoned (gotta get stoned) (Chorus-different variations) You know how we talkin' to talk We say, stoned is the way of the walk (x4) (Chorus till fade) |
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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Verse One: B-Real
Let me introduce my self I'm the one who rules the set So don't you forget Bad for ya health but ya still be tryin' ta push buttons But you ain't nothin', no frontin I bring the level up a little louder In the clubs, an' the jeeps an' the after hours Fools on the street wanna feel the funk Lookin for the 'skunk' that's what'cha want Ya betta, sit back and let the track flow Like smoke in ya lungs from puffin' on the indo Rythems upside'cha brain, can ya hang, can maintain Can ya feel the funk flowin' in ya veins Get'cha fix and ya bag of tricks In tha mix I got the stix and stones a few bricks I'm gonna hit 'em high He's gonna hit 'em low Open up ya mind so that'chu can feel the flow On, an' on till there all gone Fools be runnin' but they won't last long Chorus: I'm the freaka (8X) Verse Two: B-Real People always wanna get what you got, no matta what Can't take care of themselves in the big hunt In the quest for the crown An' the jewels, and the cheese Motherfucker please Enemies wanna plot against me with envy in they hearts But, I rip their sorry ass apart In a minute, I can take ya to the limit Temprature risen, nasal highzen Verse Three: Sen Dog Comin' back in with the lows, for the fows Fuckin' up egos, an' anybody, oppose The numba one skunk freaka, the Cypress Hill cliqua Blowin' a hole in tha speaker You don't wanna dis the Perro, the Real One, or the Werro Slangin' rythems through the ghetto Ya best keep ya ass in cheak Come on little mutha fuckas betta show respect An whats next, the big brown takin' ya down How ya feel (how ya feel punk) When your sorry ass can't hang with the Hill Chorus: 1/2 Outro: B-Real Can ya feel the effects of the chocolate tide Nobody even knows how I kick the flow Slow down, cause ya commin' up too fast Ya might get smacked down cause ya got no class [Fades out] |
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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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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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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)
{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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4:00 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"Esto no me gusta. Aqui la gente, la gente no sirve pa' mierda.
Aqui yo soy, yo soy Capitan Pingaloca. Y to' mundo aqui, me sirve a mi o va pa'l carajo. Oye... revolucion compadre!" In the midst of the madness no question, who's the baddest MC's in the game runnin for the status Take a few seconds to review the crews Sittin on top is the Hill lookin over you Killa Hill Niggas, cream in my dream Cookin up a scheme for all them big bank figures The world is yours, but it can be mine and his Bust you out the frame, I don't give a fuck who it is Number one mission, opposition Get thrown sent home in dead position In the casket, best wishes At the bottom of the lake, sleepin with the fishes Full out search for the body of the MC's who be comin to disrupt the party No wins, no ends, no way that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again! Check my dramatics, brains get splattered, dreams shattered Sabas get blasted for words he packaged Peep the sequence; crab adolescents, on his defense Power-U niggaz talkin fast like Puerto Ricans What you seekin, son I catch cream like Dominicans Last Mohican, lyrics I'm speakin, wild as Indians Tomahawk - Shaolin slang, the violent talk Upstate New York, where chumps get extorted for Newports What you thought? Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again "Y ya esta dicho. Todos los que no les guste mi 'rebote' van a morir Yo le voy a meter una bala a la cabeza a cualquier maricon, que no me persiga a mi a la 'singadapuerta'. Oye, hijo puta! Quiero quemarte la cara!" Words drop in chant, the cheeky-eyed slant I'm takin these cannabis plants yo for grant' Exotic, narcotic, tunes slam soon From a dune in the desert Mega-Babylon pleasure Comin out the domepiece, smell my aroma Warrior nomad, put you in a coma Comma, llama, smash-crashin your armor Drama, I'm a, stealth aircraft bomber Here is where I dwell at the gates o' hell It ain't where you're from it's where you're in the mentals And if not yo, credentials are essential I see reality, few things surroundin me Three like a spread, precise strikes the lyric Not frontin or braggin, hundred percent red dragon Pine fragranced lyrics, the rhymes you can't imagine The globe-trotter, call me Meadowlark Lemon Five part criminal, two part felon - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back.. ease back.. Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger.. "Esta dicho! Aqui, la revelacion! No se la ve por television. Todos los maricones del norte, que los voy a matar yo. Va a ser aqui en nuestro pais. Y todos los 'singamasones', que estan singando un mundo. Tambien, van a ver la muerte de ellos mismos, lo en las manos de ellos. Un dia, va a ser sangre, mucha sangre. La peste de los cuerpos muertos, vas a oir, que se va a hueler. Hasta los Estados Unidos, estos cabrones, que con la democracia, que nos 'tan singando en el culo. Todos son unos mismos cabrones..." |
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2:56 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Living in the city of the Scandalous
Shisty motherfuckers, can't even trust my own brothers So who can I choose to trust, me, that's who Niggas want a piece of the pie, fuck off and die! Jealous, envious fools want to rush this Loco, trooping ass nigga with the cash, shit Motherfuckers just get your own, and leave mine alone Forty-five places to get done Send out your invitation To the party of your elimination I got peeps that play for keeps, (Hardball) Now I'm laying your ass down to sleep But every hustler wants to be bawling But I got the balls for the shot calling I pull strings, the Don King, only in America Then I hustle, and flex my muscle --Yeah, man, I've been out here running game for eight years --I know I'm getting tired of standing on this corner --Nigga, I want a fat pad, and fly ass pool Finest motherfucking bitches, jewels and all that shit, if I got to take it from a nigga --Shit, let him run for me then --I can work for myself, don't have to work for nobody, I'll be my own hustler Where can I roam to get my hustle on Killafornia, stacking the chips, got the full clips Loaded and cocked, I'm used to running with the Glock Nina Millimeter, lighting up the fucking block Now, who you gonna trust?, who can you trust? I don't know, but if you coming on my corner I think I'm gonna bust You can't handle us, devious, dangerous Criminal mentality, insanity I move weight, from state to state All the niggas moving weights, can you relate? --Damn, what's up, I see you pushing that big time weight --I told you, I wasn't bullshitting --You coming up, aight! --When I seen you three or four months ago I told you --Got respect for a man now --Handle your shit! Where can I choose to get my hustle on? In the alleyway, lighting up all night long Fuck working at McD's, I'm rolling with the O.Z's In the QP's, puffing on trees Who can I trust?, who can you trust? Not that shady motherfucker in the city Los Scandalous --Well, well, little man came up a little bit --It feels good having money in the pocket --Fuck that nine to five bullshit, right? --Yeah, kick that shit to the curb --But you got to look out for the scandalous motherfuckers Cuz niggas is tricky than a motherfucker --Yeah, but motherfuckers got to look out for us too You know what I'm saying I'm just as shisty as a nigga --Shit, set me up and niggas are gonna die --You get set up back, cuz we ain't having that bullshit --I got your back, you got mine, that goes without saying --Twenty-seven and mo' baby, twenty-seven and mo' --Let's get the fuck out of here" |
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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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3:43 |
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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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3:43 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Fuck all y'all
I'm comin' of the wall I got a nigga from The Source Swingin' from my balls Ughh! Ya want me to set it Well my MAC-11 takes unleaded Let it rain And jackin' out fire What you're seein' when I'm takin' shit another level higher Now it's on Ain't gettin' domed Buckin' all these niggas 'till they all gone Now we can roll to the east side of town And I'm lookin' for a fat boy and a lotta (state of clown) You better move your ass to this MAC-11 Pointed at your ass for the 1-8-7 "Yeah motherfucker, gonna break your back with this shit. Hey motherfuckas: move back! Yo, B-Real.." I'm the head-hunter You goin' under Make a trophy Call it the two-headed buster On my mantle Back in the temple Givin' up the family Up and down Central Butt bloody Anybody Lookin' for a wide body One body Somebody Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson I ain't fallin' off like Humpty-Dumpty Nigga you still wanna bump me Still got the hand on pump And now I'm thumpin' on 'em Thumpin on 'em See Somebody, anybody scream When I got the gatt with the big red beam Now what if I moved it up right between your eyes Now your chances are never When you're lookin' at the slug at the of the barrel Where ya gonna run when ya can't move further Seven eighty one redruM with the Murder Tie him up Throw him in the trunk Let the funk Blow his earsdrums out 'Till he's bleedin' Then let's get him weeded It's the phunk Buddha Let me do the Ceremony up with the hoota And the shooter Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson |
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3:35 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Verse One: B-Real
Let me introduce my self I'm the one who rules the set So don't you forget Bad for ya health but ya still be tryin' ta push buttons But you ain't nothin', no frontin I bring the level up a little louder In the clubs, an' the jeeps an' the after hours Fools on the street wanna feel the funk Lookin for the 'skunk' that's what'cha want Ya betta, sit back and let the track flow Like smoke in ya lungs from puffin' on the indo Rythems upside'cha brain, can ya hang, can maintain Can ya feel the funk flowin' in ya veins Get'cha fix and ya bag of tricks In tha mix I got the stix and stones a few bricks I'm gonna hit 'em high He's gonna hit 'em low Open up ya mind so that'chu can feel the flow On, an' on till there all gone Fools be runnin' but they won't last long Chorus: I'm the freaka (8X) Verse Two: B-Real People always wanna get what you got, no matta what Can't take care of themselves in the big hunt In the quest for the crown An' the jewels, and the cheese Motherfucker please Enemies wanna plot against me with envy in they hearts But, I rip their sorry ass apart In a minute, I can take ya to the limit Temprature risen, nasal highzen Verse Three: Sen Dog Comin' back in with the lows, for the fows Fuckin' up egos, an' anybody, oppose The numba one skunk freaka, the Cypress Hill cliqua Blowin' a hole in tha speaker You don't wanna dis the Perro, the Real One, or the Werro Slangin' rythems through the ghetto Ya best keep ya ass in cheak Come on little mutha fuckas betta show respect An whats next, the big brown takin' ya down How ya feel (how ya feel punk) When your sorry ass can't hang with the Hill Chorus: 1/2 Outro: B-Real Can ya feel the effects of the chocolate tide Nobody even knows how I kick the flow Slow down, cause ya commin' up too fast Ya might get smacked down cause ya got no class [Fades out] |
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3:36 |
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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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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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3:28 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Smokin' MC's like a bowl of Buddha Burnin' in my bong NOW You don't want to step to the rhythm of the funk degrees You'll be a prisoner in the temple of thieves Move it out, just move it on out, no doubt We the number one crew Kickin' more gas niggas out the house Puttin' up an argument, just don't bother `Cause I'll whoop that ass just like I'm your father Take heed to the master's call yes y'all (Bring your cell-phone cause I fade them all) Bullets fly But they don't give a fuck about who dies When you're in the middle of the fuckin' No question, confrontation Nowhere to run from the assassination Let the rain come down Whoops there goes another body on the ground Watch out for G hound It's the undisputed Cypress family Kickin' up dust can you handle us fragilly Growin' inside your mind like a tumour Spreading in your head like a rumor Venomous! I'm from the underground, I take care of business What the fuck is this? Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Suckas come in all shapes sizes and colors Let me get the rope And hang `em `till their fuckin' necks broke Wind passage cut off, now you can't breathe Let me give you what you need A fat dose of the good weed Like a puppet on a string I'm the one controlling your ass With the rough shit here to bring My army grows like the buddha I sold ya Every seed planted is another fuckin' soldier Like the `coup d'etate' Now ya are in the middle of the ambush Stuck in your car They can't find ya At the bottom of the lake Let me remind ya You better be lookin' behind ya It's too late, ain't no one standin' here Hallucination, bees hummin' in your ear Paranoia, dwelling to your dome piece Increase, the level of the terror that move ceased Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Come on Open up the doors for the high funk buddha With the light point the dick can die Rolling with the six shooter Thirty-eight Still shootin' real straight Lookin' for the buster that I must eliminate No surprise As the inches demise Let the four flow As I look him right in the eyes And rip these niggas in half With the (fabergraph) They can't find a path I like the aftermath Still I reign the sect we remain The big bad Cypress Hill, fuckin' niggas up again When I aim I'm scopin' for your brain Brother stay low, cross-hairs break you up the frame Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! |
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5:01 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Boom biddy bye bye
Boom biddy bye bye Step back as I'm kicking up dust For a while As I put mothafuckas to rest And pull their files Out from the cabinet With the picture Get the 45 and settle it With this punk nigger Slow your roll As I take control Take your toke from the Indo' Then hit and hold Now let it out How you feel when the herb Got you by the balls And you're coughing up a lung anyhow You can't shake That nigger that's gonna brake Fool On any one member of your bitch crew As I pull the trigger On my nine Say goodnight nigger Boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye You ain't never caught a rabbit So you ain't no friend of mine It's a habit Barkin' up your tree with my nine Keep your bitch on a leash or at home A nick knack Paddywack Give the dog a bone The raw dog Fuck a law dog Still handin' out beat-downs wit' my sawed-off 'Cause a every now and then I got to knuckle up Buckle up Chin checking It's on I reckon It's the wild wild west Get your 40 and your blunt and your Glock and your bulletproof vest Let me guess Everybody wanna test Everybody burning up, gonna get burned like Ses Laudy daudy We're fucking everybody Boom biddy bye Sing the lullaby In the party Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put my Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Yes yes ya'll To the beat ya'll Watch a punk slipin' see the pouta fall I'm buck-loody Looking for the nigga who wanna cut me 'Cause the nigger gets so funky Fool I'm the one From The big bad Cypress Hill clique, a Number one son of the funk freaka Yes yes ya'll I'll be the one with the mad Buddha blast ya'll Comin' from the west ya'll But I figure You'd cry like a bitch Don't twitch 'Cause I just might pull the trigga Now lay down Stay down Don't move a muscle if you see your homeboy's brains on the ground Don't fuck don't say nothin' You fuck around and I might get ragamuffin Boom biddy bye bye Line up on the floor now you' all gonna die Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye Put your ass on the floor an' don't ask why Boom biddy bye bye I put the Glock to your dome and you started to cry Boom biddy bye bye Any last prayers before you die Boom biddy bye bye Rock-a-bye nigga boom biddy bye bye Boom biddy bye bye It's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Time to say good-bye Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die Boom biddy bye bye Now it's time to die |
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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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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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1:46 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"(Inhales) Break that shit off nigga"
Look at all the M.C.'s trying to get down But all you get is a peeled back, dome cap I'm not the one to be having that shit All these punk niggas better bow down and submit Niggas don't know how to "keep it real" Only if you niggas know the real deal Fuck all the bullshit, Cypress Hill Comes raining on your brain Bringing the blood stains Smeared on the sidewalk, one mark dome of the prejudice skull, hanging in my home "Straight to you dome sucker So what you wanna do fool" The Big Game hunter, fucking shit up Get your ass back down, the Hill's on the cut Who'll get in the circle, let's see if you're raw Hardcore, last vato might hit the fucking floor Glocks and ?, in them one clip For any buster who wanna flip Back ese ?, shining in your eye Soul of an Assassin, until I die (Por vida ese!) Red light visions in your dome piece Nightmares running through your head, won't cease Look at you now, broke down and done No competition can ever get none "Straight flip-flop, nigga, flip-flop on your punk ass until you drop (Cypress Hill, coming at your grill) You're nothing but a motherfucking time clock Cypress motherfucking Hill (Fuck how you feel) It ain't but another piece to the puzzle fool!" |
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3:39 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Once again the powers of the herb open up the mind,
Seek deep inside, tell me what you find, Come on... Who be the ones steppin' in the room, Everybody welcome to the temple of boom, Back, let me see ya fat indo sack, And get weeded, somebody, everybody need it, Mari-Juana, Mari-Juana, do ya wanna, Give me love when I put the flame on ya, Homie I'm the one with the shotgun,in the closet, Next to the fat bags full of chronic, Puto, don't ya be steppin', with ya hands open, Askin' me "can I get a hit of what t'cha smokein'", I aint got no kind of love for a brother, Who comes to the party, with no bud, I be smokein' this, indo-blazin', funk buddah, Everybody, wanted it, now they talk about the hooter, Up until the summer of '91, Wasn't no mutha fuckas talkin' 'bout smokein' blunts, From the west coast to the east coast, Everybody be braggin', But , I'm the one who be puffin' most, First it started with the nickel, then the dime, Then the Twenty, spendin' up all my money, Now, I roll with the nelco(?), With the pound in the pad smokein' up the indo, Just take a deep breath (Ahh), Hit it then pass it to the left, You can keep the mutha fuckin' stress, Smoke it up, just puff it up, (O yea), Light it up, then put your spliff up in the air, Do you wanna spark another owl? Do you wanna spark another owl? Everybody spark another owl. Everybody spark another owl. I wanna spark another owl. I wanna spark another owl. Do you wanna spark another owl? Do you wanna spark another owl? (Sen Dog)Yea, stroll the ways of the buddah mastas, brings me to the temple of boom, I see people everywhere startin' to understand the point, when I'm talking about the joint, talkin' 'bout that marijuana, talkin' 'bout the sense, talkin' 'bout the kind mota boca loa-loa maui,maui, lugers of work- ready, mexican greenba, cheeba, cheeba y'all, yeska, humble pound weed, the crypt, the choclate tide, the afgani, the meefrakan, the indo, the skonka, the bad breath sense (cough). Hello everyone, I'm Kurt Loaded, we're here t hemp TV, with Cypress Hill in Amsterdam we're listening to there new album, I'm stoned, I'm outta here, Goodbye folks. |
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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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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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2:54 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
1 for trouble, 8 for the road,
7 to get ready when I'm lettin' off all my load, Funk, Buddha monk, in the trunk, I got'cha, thumpin' so hard, Up and down the blvd., I'm a natrual-born cap-peela', strapped illa, I'm the west coast settin' it on, no one's reala', Get'cha fix of the uncut funk, A small dose of the skunk weed, like it's suppose to be, Move it up, just move it on out, What'cha talkin'bout son, I got the first shot, and it's all over now, One nation under a groove, Smoke a pound for the strict of it, Everytime I make a move, Smooth and togetha, Raw like leatha, Ain't goin' out like a punk, neva, Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove It's the numba one money maker, Money takea, few steps back I'm on a plane to Jamaica,(Am I) Puffin' a fat wada, talk shit, For the fool I'm thinkin' about, I got the ruff shit, Hard rock bone breaka, Stoned Raider, in the Temple of Boom, Assurt to assume, Never be lettin' shit slide, no way, Bitch niggas can hide, But, I'll find they ass some day, Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Wherever you are, put'cha muthafuckin' spliff in the air, Some dogs, like you gotta pair, When I kick to the metro, Lone clip, be lookin' around, Cause this shit ain't over with yet, People can't understand my situation, Now they cought up in the Soul Assasination, Fool, just take cover, it's all over, When I break ya off a chunk of this muthafucka, Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove |
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4:31 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
I neva rapped on an R&B record, and I neva will,
I got these phoney muthafuckas, talk about lets keep it real, But, they don't know how to take they own advisement, Going out, do it solo on an advertisement, comecializing Fuckin' sell out, nigga, this is hip-hop, not fasion, Get the hell out, I'm taking out these so called gangsta niggas, Takin' pictures, modeling clothes for small figures, And I neva took another fuckin' MC's shit, And made it my first single, fuck a hit, Fuckin' hypocrite, you can get the dip, when I lick a shot off, I'm gonna, and all of it, It's a damn shame when you got all these fools in the record indistry, Sellin' out for the fame, I just sit back and watch thes fools with their gimmiks, Go down in flames , in the big game, Zippidey-dooda, I smoke weed and I got brain damage, But, I don't give a fuck cause I still manage, To represent to the fullest, No pop singles, and no actin' foolish, To the studio gangsta with the articals, In them magizines with the bitch editors, Keep it real in the game, Niggas got no shame, Now all the executives want all the fame, Based on the videos, just a gang of silly hoes, For the fuck-em indistry that's take'n all ya dough, I neva stole it, stole it all, Just hard work, and sweat, for them platinum records on the wall, Fools want me to fall, I won't cause my roots are to thick and strong, like the chocolate tastic, I hear niggas say no, but, I know they front, Cause afta they shows they want me to smoke a blunt, I don't respect a hypocrite, muthafuckas I despise, Cause me I tell the truth, even when I tell a lie, All you bruthas in the game run a check, Cause you get checked fucked off, with no respect, Muthafuckas |
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4:31 |
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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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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Every nigga out there wanna be down with the crew
Some ain't got enough heart let me ask you this Would ya be down like a soldier Loyal, and do everything I told ya I can mold ya into a warrior Down for your neighborhood Workin up to a G with the flava Criminal behavior, on the mind When I got ya back ya know I got ya back each and every time Throw ya set in the air (c'mon) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw it up homes!) Wave it around like ya just don't care It's time to exit that busta nigga Get ya hands out ya pockets and your finga on the trigga Let one fly, we don't die, we multiply Throw yo set up in the sky I ask you ?? cause you can't fuck wit this Nigga when I got the Glock ya betta duck quick Cause I ain't havin it If ya got ya gat ya betta start grabbin it I can handle it Soy numero uno, mero mero You know I run wit Muggs and the perro Firin up that heater When I'm throwin up a set I got my nina millemeter Los scandalous, killafornia, where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum I'm buckin on ya ass now ya know where I'm from Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air (c'mon) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw your hood up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care (got c'mon on!) Throw ya set in the air (give it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Nigga throw your set in the air, nigga you know I'm sayin' If you're scared nigga take your muthafuckin' punk ass to church Cause this one from a nigga on the east side Every muthafuckin' day is a job nigga Gotta handle your business, niggas you get don't You muthafuckin' cap on get peel back And it ain't no bullshit If you wanna test a nigga, bring it on nigga, you know I'm sayin'? Fuck your muthafuckin' set up in the air Let me take ya to the dark side of the moon Tell mama that ya won't be comin home anytime soon Cause I got ya under my thumb Nigga what set ya claimin Betta be the same set I'm claimin Take a look around count this amount of soldiers When I'm chillin on the east side of town And it won't stop till I'm done Dum ditty dum ditty ditty dum dum Throw ya set in the air (c'mon) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (throw your hood up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Throw ya set in the air (give it up!) Wave it around like ya just don't care Yeah, that's right Straight givin' up the 'hood long day fool! Cypress Hill muthafucka watcha wanna do? Hell no Givin' my shit to be in your face fool! |
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from Cypress Hill, 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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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
Livin in the city of the scandalous, shiesty mother fuckas
Can't even trust my own brothers, So who can i choose to trust ? me that's who. Niggas want a piece of the pie, fuck off and die. Jealous, envious, fools wanna rush this. Loco cuban ass nigga with the cash shit. Mother fuckers better get your own And leave mine alone forty five ways to get domed. I send out the invitation, To the party of your elimination. I got peeps that play for keeps........ Now i'm layin your ass down to sleep. But every hustler wanna be ballin But don't got the ball's for the shot callin. I pull strings, the don king; Only in america can i hustle and flex my muscle. (hook). Where can i roam to get my hustle on, Killafornia stackin the chips got the full clips. Loaded and cocked used to run with a glock; Nina milimeter sig lightin up the fuckin block now, Who you gonna trust? who can you trust? I don't know, but if your comin on my corner; i'm gonna bust. You can't handle us, devious, dangerous, Criminal mentality, insanity. I move weight from state to state. All the niggas movin weight can you relate. (hook). Where can i chill to get my hustle on, In the alley way comin up all nite long. Fuck workin at mc' dee's I'm rollin with the o.z's, and the q.p's Puffin on tree's. Who you gonna trust? who can you trust? Not that shady mother fucker in the city of scandalous. {hook}..............end. |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
[Wyclef] Refugee camp, with Cypress Hill
[B-Real] Yo, bringin it on [Wyclef] Cubans meet the Haitians Perfect combination, check it Verse One: Wyclef, B-Real [Wyclef] You say guns [B-Real] I say pistolas [Wyclef] Well if you got beef son [B-Real] Callate la boca [Wyclef] Go meet me on the island where the Cubans meet the Haitians [B-Real] A bullet beats the verbal lyrical assassination [Wyclef] From L.A. to Brooklyn why you doin all that talkin [B-Real] Think you got a soul but you're a Dead Man Walking [Wyclef] Yo toast the host from coasts' we boast When we meet again, I will be Casper that Friendly Ghost [B-Real] You'll hear shots, like the show Cops Things are still the same, I'm still growin crops [Wyclef] Wyclef with B-Real, let me build better yet [B-Real] Killa bee kill [Wyclef] Yo B-Real watch your grip Chorus: B-Real, Wyclef, Lauryn Hill [B-Real] Hi, boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhhahhh, ahhhahhh [Wyclef] You open up your eyes you'll be the next one to die [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [B-Real] Boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [Wyclef] Ohh as simple as they come as as simple as they die [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [B-Real] Boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [Wyclef] Yo who told the boyy, to pack a forty-five [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhhahhh [B-Real] Boom biddy bye bye [Lauryn Hill] Ahhahhhh, ahhahhhh [Wyclef] Now he rest in the place that they call paradise Verse Two: B-Real, Wyclef Fools run up, but they've never seen the last Spread your last lyrics get broken like glass Can he pass or does he posess the will Or does he need to create to keep him straight on the real Punks are broken some dey fall off the ledge Refugee Camp bringin it straight over the edge You duck as I fluff the feathers from ya skin How ya gonna win that's like Satan without no sin (without no sin) They'll never happen while I'm rappin I be watchin The Philistines, creepin up in Manhattan The sun turn up though Wyclef produce a track with Muggs But there's no survivors, they all died in the flood Chorus Verse Three: Wyclef, B-Real Yo, once a child, twice a villain If this was drugs I'd make a million off this combination They say you'redope Clef you're dope so they offer me sess and beer Beware, you pull your wallet Mr. Thief stares The opposite direction of the room, he pulled his gun and said I'm doomed join the son of man in the tomb I see the soldiers, comin from out the shadows Ready for battle, ain't trying to hear the baffled Warriors lined up in full war gear In it to win it if it goes on for years Dedicated to the stable of the Assassins Revolutionaries, just bring on the action Chorus [WYCLEF] Soldier man Rewind selector soldier man Refugee soldier man Brooklyn soldier man L.A massive soldier man New Jersey massive soldier man Uptown massive soldier man Long beach massive soldier man You know the whole world watches soldier man Boom biddy bye bye open up ya eyes you'll be the next one to die....... |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Well I'm an alley cat
Some say a dirty rat On my side is my gat See I'm all of that Spittin' out buck shots, for I'm gonna wetcha Running hard, but I'm still coming to getcha Thinking like a peace smoke, comin' on a homicide You talkin' shit, try to take me for a ride I'm not a bad guy But I'm the funky feel one Finger on the trigger with my hands upon the steel Lettin' out a bullet, this is going boo-ya You're stuck in my hood, so what ya gonna do now? Being the hunted one is no fun Here I come son Yo I think you better run Better run more, and move a little faster Second of thought and I'm coming to blast ya With my Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Comin' at you like a stiff blow, fuckin' up your program Ain't takin' shit from you him or no man Master mind maniac and a menace Oh, how they want to pass a sentence All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger He missed So now the nigga's hist' Rude and crude like a pitbull Get to the point, your fuckin' going to get pulled Now, I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns Get your face down! Put me in chains Try to beat my brains I can get out, but the grudge remains When I see ya punk ass, I'm gonna get ya Gatt ya Fucking do ya Shotgun goes boo-ya! Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit, Think I'll light another for the blunted to chill with 'Cause I'm the chill one Known to get ill when They stepped to the Hill "What's up?", I had to kill one Now I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Livin' like a nigga who done lost his mind 'Cause I ain't goin out like a spineless jellyfish Some say life is a bitch Ask that punk who dug his own ditch Up on the Hill fuckin' up at a party Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body Lala la la lala la laa Look at all of those funeral cars 'Cause I'm a Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa |
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4:24 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Hits From The Bong
Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Pick it, pack it, Fire it up, Come along, And take a hit from the bong, Put the blunt down just for a second, Don't get me wrong it's not a new method, Inhale, Exhale, Just got a ounce in the mail, I like a blunt or a big fat cone, But my double barrel bong is gettin' me stoned, I'm skill it, There's water inside don't spill it, It smells like shit on the carpet, Still it, goes down smooth when I get a clean hit, Of the skunky funky smelly green shit, Sing my song, puff all night long, As I take Hits from the bong... Hits From The Bong y'all Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Let's smoke that bowl, hit the bong, And then take that finger off of that hole, Plug it, unplug it, Don't straaaain, I love you Mary Jane, She never complains, when I hit Mary, With that flame, I light up the cherry, She's so good to me, when I pack a fresh bowl I clean the screen, Don't get me stirred up the smoke, through the bub-bling water, Is Makin' it pure so I got ta', take my hit and hold it, Just like Chong, I hit the bowl and I reload it, Get my four-footer and bring it on... As I take Hits from the bong, Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Straighten your dick out... Can I get a hit ... |
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Some people tell me that I need help
Some people can fuck off and go to hell God damn, why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck em! And feed em cause I don't need em I won't join em if I can beat em They don't understand my logic To my gat to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin that trigga, I dig ya That grave on the east side of town Lay ya six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Clic Cloc barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit the pain Wa da da dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind Muthafuckas be drivin me up the walls Hopin that I fall but they can suck my balls Straight jacket, strap it In a padded room when some punk niggaz can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city lookin at the ho wit the big titties Lookin at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin hot Cause she looks like my girl who just smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin round wit the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions |
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4:26 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Intro:
What′s up we gonna go down the line baby Brand new one from the Call O Da Wild Give big shouts to money makin Manhattan 145th street crews, 155th street crews All my niggaz on the East Side We gonna flip the track baby, flip the script like this Big shouts to all the weed spots and all that who know how we do Me things no money sat on Monies chicks Fillin Barcadi on club seats Harm′s represent the crease on wise fully feet harmly accriminate Futuristic kittens of the street all malfunction seats Crews stand like mannequins sportin names is Tim′s I′ll make half your flaps burn is self-discipline And supportin your kittens if you′re convinced They keep the scripts movie-men Experience and hard is (unknown) has captured run for the (unkown) Mischievous black kids dipped in black hooches Ruthless-a the caswendler stupid used to pump with the any gooier Now let the card hold the futures Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual trauma causing dime Barron Ricks B Ricks stands anonymous decant flicks And non-raps that can′t bonely manifest the Buddha blessed Freshly dressed rollin in the clubs for success I′m not dressed in materialistic games to get the sex The five six I′m livin fortune of survival tactics Keepin my enemies close and all my niggaz out of business What is this? Slicey characters spreadin my business Fragments that can′t manage that do damage yo I had it Environmental pressure causing static In fabric of the asiac cabbage it′s madness All this I′m civilized now what do I now? Run these avenues buckwild with crews now who is it? Makin all you critics fiend these lyrics And be the core Yes y′all comin through on your premises This is it Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Interlude KnowI′msayin? Big shouts to my sacred projects connections know I′m sayin? All my brothers on 113th Lexus to-dial knowI′msayin? Big shouts to the LES baby we see you Put on Stella performances While niggaz place bids at auto auctions Re-model frames and changin rusty engines and courting And while you Forman fools wanna shorten my life My life is like survival organs It′s not important that you′re this lyrical dissertation Tossing lineal seeing precitals break your vinyl Chronically spotting spiral perhaps spinning out wax Yo ?Nas? put the black wars on elegant floors The teachers got operations make em insecure Gypsy cabs I flag Donnas DC slam that ass take a detour Affiliates with my predominately black landscape Hop the squad I watch the sling shot from rotting up your pin spot Jostling nigga glocked him playing possum I got the X-ray vision Ain′t nothing poppin while the tears who interfere And the fears they disappear Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin DONS Outro: Ah man that′s the Call O′ Da Wild flavor baby I can′t take it no more I′m outta here baby But before we get up out I wanna give big shouts To all the Buddha spots that made this possible Big shouts to the 99 cents store baby The discount health foods know I′m sayin? All the brothers on the Lexus ail with that good, goodness Big shouts to the party bag shop To all you other food spots on your roster crew with the end shit Yeah we out baby don′t forget to flip this to the other side Get with that Call O′ Da Wild baby, it′s like that yeah |
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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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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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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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2:55 |
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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 - Tequila Sunrise [single] (1998) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Tequila Sunrise [single] (1998) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Tequila Sunrise [single] (1998) | |||||
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3:52 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
[B-Real]
I got nothing to lose, I'm going all out The deuce never stop, I refuse to play by the rules Uptight, when you stepping into the night, right Pigs coming up and shining the bright light Nothing better to do, than fuck with the pride When you hide behind your badge, your gun and ride Billy club show me no love, think you above All the fuss and the locs is rushing in too close Let me lay it on the table, forget stable Freak niggas, coming to slay to the label You got nothing to lose, come on choose Stay away from niggas that bring down your crew Whatever it takes, you make or break yourself With the wealth or the chance to stay in good health Sword blade swinging you back off away And the track off the real, straight off the Hill What the deal motherfucker? [Chorus] I got nothing to lose (I'm going all out) Nothing to lose (You gonna fall out) Time run out (I'm going all out) nothing to lose (I'm going all out) Lighting the fuse to the bomb (better run out) Nothing to lose (I'm going all out) Nothing to lose (You gonna fall out) Time run out (I'm going all out) nothing to lose (I'm going all out) Lighting the fuse to the bomb (better run out) [Sen Dog] I'm going all out, showing y'all what I'm about Getting in your mental, knocking niggas out Taking this pencil, across the brain Ain't stopping there til the rhymes all drained All out my system, take em, and then I twist em Put em out one day and see, who want to diss em As you fold I'll sting ya, run up and you bitch up Y'all get the picture, just call Mr. Excitement Coming with the thunder and lightning Shit is quite frightening how niggas keep biting So I keep the writing, down for the fighting Cold with the flows, they both quite exciting And let me take space up, heat your face up I'm going all out, before the raise up [Chorus] Come on, come on [B-Real] I'm going all out, nothing to lose, you better roll out Sold out, niggas be living in times run out In the present smell the prescence of what you stressing You get sent a lesson ain't missing the point blessing Expression, feeling the tension over the session The question, filling your body with intention Don't mention the profession, keep adressing The real motherfuckers in the crowd pay attention I'm goin the fuck out, Smith and Wesson You better stall me out, no extension Only the strong will ever be setting the pace When you look up I'm gone and never left a trace No worries, set you with flurries and no juries Eight million stories in the city of furies Don't get the twist, you listen or get the fist I got nothing to lose so I gat fools with this [Chorus] [Sen Dog] Oh yeah, Cypress Hill massive once again Coming to your record shop Check this out, we ain't taking no prisoners We chopping heads off And you stepping at me, you better be going all out baby This is war baby, from now until the new millennium |
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4:20 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo.
16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. So many fuckin' MC's claim supremacy, on who's got hip hop locked it could never be, one crew or solo runnin the whole game that's bullshit. Like cops never sniff cocaine. But I'm takin on all comers, droppin bombers reducing numbers, makin it hot like the summer. this one MC couldn't deal with the skill like Jack did Jill I rolled his ass down the Hill. Beaten, broken, and coughin, and chokin on the rhyme, like a hooker suckin a dick for the first time. His rhyme was hallow with no flow to follow bust the nut all in his mouth and made him swallow. I'll take 16 MC's and lock 'em in a room, make 'em feel the contact, eatin the mushrooms. Playin with your mind makin you feel the force, Had to cancel out 2 punk niggas up in the Source. They tried to get double XL they still fell, bitches go tell your troubles to Montell. 16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. 16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. I'm trippin on the people controlling the airwaves got in goin on, you know it all but God save, youass for clashin, with a Soul Assassin that's like Mike fuckin with poppa Joe Jackson. Ass whoop all over the place, you can't hide behind the physical better run to the spiritual. Ass whoop critical or you can get it from the lyrical dysfunctional, hypocritical smile on your face fuckin' cynical shit braines. As I sit back and say tally ho one of these days your punk ass gonna go wish you had a key to figure the fuckin flow but you're locked out and the bombs about to blow. 16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. 16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. 12 punk to go who's next on the list matter of fact I got one in my head to fix. There was one particular fool in teh circle who fell off greed over came a nigga, who at all cost. Changes up to gain it all but shared none. Who made him all the money to over come, Niggas upo on the Hill in the lab, while he was rollin big baller style high profile. Oh child, make wanna act juvenile, all smiles right in my face, but wait a minue now. Welcome to the 360, degrees pay a fee when you're fuckin your people over the cheese. No soul, no conscience, no loyalty, to the niggas who got him treated like royalty. When your4 times up you're gonna end up seein visions of everybody you fucked over, you're scared sober. 16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. 16 men on a dead man's list yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. Fuck the hater with the symbol and soul nad the bitch niggas who stole my care stereo. Trick Dees get no love he gets nuts like ass Miller and the fuckin x dealer. Can't forget the niggas who was down with the Hilla, You get bumped like C Tucker and Will Benette let step over the Hump and represent it. You go down like Jerry and get smacked like Trick Leo now here's your fuckin eulogy o. There was 16 men now there's no one left yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. There was 16 men now there's no one left yo ho ho, and a bag of indo. |
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3:19 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
[Featuring Barron Ricks]
"T Minus 10 9 8 7 6.. 5 4 3 2 1.. zero!" (Blast off!) [B Real] Come inside hello everybody welcome Think you better be ready for the battle when the shit goes down Cause we warring All you fuckin yellow comets runnin from the front line If anybody wanna get away hey I'll find your fuckin ass in due time Run and seek shelter but you never will escape Flippin over the gate, cause you can't wait to get your fuckin ass away But you're trapped, and there's no way out of this musrhroom cloud But you never wanna realize that I'm planted in your mind now Cypress Hill compound, you could hear the sound Let another motherfucker run up and I'll put your ass down (down) Then I'll peal from your cap the Cypress Hill star Quick look around, you can't hide You just might die right where you are Chorus: B-Real AUDIO X...We gonna your blow your head up (up) Synthetic flows, they gonna make you get up Give me any record and I'll flip it any style Niggaz can't help it, cause they bumpin the shit loud [Barron Ricks] Aiyyo whasup kid, feel the rush, glad you kept in touch With these niggaz who be puffin on the Dutch Bustin guns, lay back in the cut Can it be, it's just a dream when you're on your scene smokin the green Cause ain't shit never what you think it seem From the streets where life ain't cheap Cypress Hill, Soul Assassins, while you askin, "Who dat rappin?" We get all up inside your grill, with the skill Shoot to kill when it's time for action See you can't hide, from this homicide, that ain't no lie Better kiss that black ass goodbye when you try to play these wiseguys So who's complainin when we intensify the levels on the ryhme You better get ready for the battle when the shit goes down Because we are the wild Chorus [Barron Ricks] "Audio terrorists Mic specialists About to blow this Blast off" [B-Real] Lookin in your eyes, I see your body bag figure Better be ready for the battle when the shit goes down Cause it's on nigga What you wanna do, you better pay close attention Let it be known, I control the zone beyond your comprehension Blunt session, you feel the tension begin to rise Fuck and feed him, if they can't take a joke and get high I'm feelin lye, in my lungs, what the deal bro? So many people wanna hit my joint but they never got none Imagine that bullshit, happens all the time Niggaz better start growin they own They cannot fuck with mine Give me any record and I'll flip it any style Beginners better run back to the lab and practice for a while Chorus [Barron Ricks] "This has been another AUDIO X explosive Blast off!" |
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2:01 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
(Sen Dog)
Motherfucker with one little single Three or four Caimans under your belt One good game gonna put you in the Hall of Fame motherfucker, nahmean? Got one hit think you an all star baby Ha, you sure got somethin to learn, rookie ass nigga It's the big hill baby, stand strong motherfucker, what (B-Real) Don't trip when you hit the lunatic, transmit ah shit Break it down for the bitches and don't slip You wish, get a grip you talkin with loose lips runnin your mouth, give you a tip, eat a dick Huffin and puffin now you the man, understand this Dumb motherfuckers explode up in the push persist Keep movin with no lyrics, your spirit's broke Sounds like you got a dick caught in your throat Huh, hit wood-a takin you under a down low Shitting on your one single and carry O's Hold up; let me slow down the catch up Before you open up your mouth for the kick to the gut Pure breed, raw killer, rhyme thriller Spit fire like Godzilla, the mad willer Swingin over the beat, you ready, hold steady You come across, biting the bullet and be the boss Hard, sit-cars, you wanna floss guitars quick You rapping like you wrapping your lips around my dick Nobody told me to stop until I bust in your face Got your rhyme Puffy, sprayin the mace, the case closed Expose the whack nigga who chose to pose high Figure burial, up in the hills, the gravedigger, nigga (Chorus: B-Real) Rookies got a single, they think they all pro's (yeah, you can man) Not one album mounting, they thinkin they got close (motherfucker, you bitch) I rock shows, tell me what you know about those I'm annihilating all of my foes, the case closed (bite your ass) Rookies got a single, they think they all pro's Not one album mounting, they thinkin they got close I rock shows, tell me what you know about those I'm annihilating all of my foes, the case closed Rookies got a single, they think they all pro's Not one album mounting, they thinkin they got close I rock shows, tell me what you know about those I'm annihilating all of my foes, the case closed Rookies got a single, they think they all pro's Not one album mounting, they thinkin they got close I rock shows, tell me what you know about those I'm annihilating all of my foes, the case closed |
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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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4:45 |
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| from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998) | |||||
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2:48 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
In the eye of the beholder,
the soldier begins the war. Fore score and seven bullets you hit the floor. Hit the outdoor, the darkness frightens you even more, I'm here to enlighten you with the hard-core. Bring it raw, like the red dead meat up in your plate, and I'll fill you up with the energy the Hill creates. I get sticky like the green bag of the bom diggy, now I'm fuckin with your head and you're realizing its tricky. Got you paranoid fellin the void, you can't take it, or avoid being destroyed freakazoid. Toyed with your mind all styles deployed you find danger, in the stranger eye's the killin comes second nature. Your battlefield of the mind is falling now who you callin out for help, and all your fuckin yellin is to your self. Crawlin and beggin for mercy means nothing when your bluffin I'm pushin the button and straight dumpin on fools frontin. (HOOK) Warpigs you dig, SIG kickin up Mr. Big take a sip of wine engage in a battle of the mind. You're feelin the force right from the source, ain't no remorse, your head is getting fucked and I'm skippin the intercourse. Behold the white horse your taking a loss neighbor, got the nina ross, don't lean across my fuckin paper. Chase a green back gladiator terminator, seed germinator the greater the risk you fuckin hater. Hit you the psychobeta clickin the fader slow, with the high low servin a blow who got the glow. Dead men tell no tales you fail to see the reason, I'm easin to squeeze the grigger go figure its killin season. |
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4:08 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
Hello, I'm Dr. Greenthumb
Have you ever had the problem of running out of weed and just can't find some anywhere? Well try my Dr. Greenthumb grow tips I'll show you how to grow inside and out From seed to clone, and the best homegrown And if you're afraid of those pesky pork choppers in the sky No worries, we'll fix them too with one of our Dr. Greenthumb 'Sizzlean' screens to block the nosy pig's vision Don't believe me? Just ask one of my many satisfied clients here Jed Sanders how well it works Hyuh, hyuh, hello mah name is Jaid And ahm a farmer and I've been growin mary-jah-wana fer about twenty years and uhh uhh, with Dr. Greenthumb's 'Sizzlean' screen I don't hafta point my shotgun at them pesky porkers no more Thanks Dr. Green, you're tha shit Yes, Dr. Greenthumb's got it all, I guarantee it Try my book and you'll have the chronic in no time *lighter flicks* Dial 1-800-713-GROW *inhaling noise* That's 1-800 *cough cough* *inhale* *lighter flicks* 713 *cough cough* G *inhale* R *inhale* O-W "Hello Dr. Greenthumb, paging Dr. Greenthumb!" (B-Real) Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb I'd like to tell you just where I'm from In the hills where the trees grow wild with weed fields The fucking pigs with shields holding the blue steels Greenhouse effect with the weed connect (Doctor) DEA can't keep Greenthumb in check (Doctor!) HPS, God Bless the whole crop Please God, don't let me see no cops Trunkload, ready to hit the highway Don't let the eye in the sky fly my way or we gonna have big trouble, that's no shit Can't be growin without no permit but fuck that, I study the 215 trip That way when they come they can suck my dick Weed can't grow without attention Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb Chorus: (B-Real) Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb (SenDog) Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb! (B-Real) I'd like to tell you just where I'm from (SenDog) Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb (B-Real) Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb (SenDog) Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb! (B-Real) I'd like to tell you just where I'm from (SenDog) Aiyyo Dr. Greenthumb, come on back one time! (B-Real) People can't live without the herb man If not they'd be drinkin and drivin and swervin but thanks to Dr. Greenthumb weed grow in the backyard or inside with hydro To the cush plant brushin a tangerine dream Tasty, blowin a fuckin smokescreen Cycles of weed are constantly grown Somebody give me the razor to cut groves I'd like to stop, but it feels so good Horny plants stinkin up my whole neighborhood Sticky angel, I neva wanna leave green alone but never ever ever got a warrant for my home What that funny sound knockin at the door (Open up it's the DEA!) Sorry Greenthumb can't talk no more Please don't follow me into the sun Hello my name is Dr. Greenthumb Chorus 1/2 (B-Real) Out from the lab, no need for rehab If I can't drive then call me a cab (taxi!) In my closet the weed is dried out Like Eiht said, ain't no place to hide out I don't wanna buy no weed from no cop Get locked up and they close up my shop That's why I buy no weed from no one That's why they call me Dr. Greenthumb The scientifical, mystical one Growin my crops with the rays of the sun Come one come all and see how it's done If you see the pigs there's no need to run Cause some of these pigs are down with Greenthumb But you never know what be the outcome You see the photo in the album The weed is growin like my erection Look I never told you where I was from Some call me Real, but I'm Dr. Greenthumb Chorus Dr. Greenthumb Doctor, your Bulova plant needs special tending to Doctor, we need more oxygen we need more CO2 Doctor, Dr. Greenthumb you're needed Doctor, dahyahahahhh... Doctor |
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3:45 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
(Barron Ricks)
My flows most beneficent, most merciful, outrageous for wages, vibrate niggaz heads like pagers Too hard to handle son, we animals, biohazardous Ghetto evangelist, lyric distortions, abortions of fortune shit, shittin on your ASR-10 Sequence Fuckin up the disc These be the words blow niggaz acoustic nerves when I swerve I'm bustin adjectives and verbs at curves Hear the thunder then I melt the frozen tundra, sank Titanics Crack solid granite, initiate global panic Harlem got me branded, rhythms jingle like bricks These niggaz face it or face off, give up or break North My lines petrify your mind's third eye, when I'm high I pull the trey in your insides, I strike blindside Rip inside, my syllables simmer for every criminal in prison whose an individual lose that struggle My stories burst niggaz bubbles, make new niggaz mumble Ready to shed blood up in the jungles Aiyyo we livin it, magnficent Cypress, worldwide! (B-Real) I take the micraphone cord, use it as a rope to hang all the weak rappers for leavin the bullshit they wrote Counterfeit fools all in the pot, let em boil When we go platinum they go, aluminum foil The worldwide clicks and the parties with no parties Cause niggaz'll get you quickly like the skin off a blunt when they get burned and smoked, put out and used up Niggaz don't know how to act when they lit the fuse up Abuse them up, usin the nut, I'm usin buck Fearin of the shit, that's covered the script, deliver cuts Cypress Hill, Soul Asassins, all up in the club Showin love to everyone of you real niggaz Cause the hip-hop's pumpin through the blood in my veins like a junkie, fuckin with 'ron and cocaine Slay you both down, better hold down or get clowned by the world renowned, Cypress compound! (Chace Infinite) Heavy artillery rap niggaz attack from both sides of the map, leave you flat on your back, my thoughts dwell in the dark black abyss, Chace Infinite kicks rhymes over rhythm and spit hot flame from his lips I represent, the cream of the earth, bless his birth My order in the elements in the universe My mental enter your physical frame, penetrate like pushin your face straight through a window pane with twenty bars, I'm sinister God, administer pain to your paragraph it ain't hard, see I studied the life-science for years in this, doin songs with my indigineous peers n shit, hit you with the omnipotent gland The benficient stare, write a rhyme to shine light in your ear, don't make a move that'll end your career Stand clear, I stand firm on solid ground Pump Blood Sweat and Tears, verbal architect, engineer Shiftin your ear, to Cypress Hill, you wack niggaz caps is peeled, the scientific Soul Asassin We dominate tracks and thrash in the front lines Soldier ready for action, rapid fire rappin |
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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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4:13 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
Now this some baaad weeed...
(B'Real:) The very first time I hit the weed I was young Coughin up a lung, high strung, back in '81 Goin to school, hittin the buddah behind the bleachers Comin to class high, sellin the lye to the teachers Nickel bag, nickel bag, dime to a nickel Sellin joints to the honeys suck it like an icicle Others wanted the 40 but I wanted the weed While everybody was runnin out, I was plantin my seeds Homegrown, backyard boogie, I'm still stoned Got my weed plants taller than your telephone's corner I can remember when I could only get sess in those days Now I'm rockin that chocolate thai, skunk and the haze Roll a fat one, pass it to the left don't front But I hate it when they don't take the seeds out the blunt A bunch of blunt-rollers are like rookies on the field Spillin the weed plant fuckin dookies with no skill I should write a book, how to roll it then pass it Light it, grow it, sell it and then divide it Mr. Greenthumb, Dr. Weed, I proceed to give the herb man what they need True indeed, blow your fuckin smoke up in the sky And get high with your bong or your philly or dutchess give me a light (Chorus:) Grab the weed up, pack it in, put it in the pipe Light it up, smoke a bowl, we puffin the lye right Put your finger on the hole and hold it in brother Take a puff, that's enough, and pass it to another Get the weed sack, smoke it up, til it's all gone No roaches up in the ashtray, smoke up all the bomb I usta spend money but now I'm growin the crops But I hate it when the pigs throw a raid on the spot It was once said I smoke so much weed, by a brother That I look like the nigga on the zig-zag cover Maybe I usta look like that way back when When my nigga Sen Dog was around sippin on the Hen Let the fly rhymes smother you with the scent of the skunk We got the High Times cover shows you how to roll a blunt Quarter pound, quarter pound, pound to a quarter Makin trips to Mexico runnin down to the border Long hairs, bald heads, dreads and punk rocks Kids of all colors be puffin it down the block I got the weed on lock with all the hydro methods Call me Puffy cause I makin and takin a hit record Blow your fuckin smoke up in the sky and get high With the bong, philly or dutchess, give me the light |
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5:21 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
I use to know this girl who slang the green shit
had it all going on but it didn't mean shit she wanted to be a star with big cars and all the fame that came her way I gotta say that she was all that and a bag of Indoe with no seeds such a delightful weed I wish she was still around but no she's gone my guess she got blessed and she got put on Hey yo I miss that girl she was the bomb Had the bomb diggy bomb bom and up on the quraun had all the holy book with looks to kill still I never met another dealer with that appeal with those electric eye's hypnotize any wise man surpize the queen of the lye. B Smooth 2nd half of 1st verse Mo' better bitches bounce in five deep cliques Dipped in victoria secret scents Hangin/ with men under surveillance from the government While Don Juan types floss rites - she's chewin' on ice Meditatin' with her camp gettin' damp She's a femme fatale freak bitch high maintenance Got her fuckin' clit pierced chained to her anus Professional fo wettin' niggas up, suck em first till' they bust Swallow nut then she's quick to strut right ou the projects Been a whore since '91 Suckin' niggas dicks for fun holdin guns in her buns Type of chick to tel you fuck her in the ass talkin' shit while she's going LALALALALALULULLU On ya dick!!! (hook) I remember that freak bitch up in the club a Victoria secret she gives love no matter which way you keep it you get thrown out the picture now peep it you get the glove bitch........... Its been years since I've sen the queen of reen on the screen so I stepped up to her screen door like a dream or better yet like a fin needing a fix she wasn't like other chicks on the scene puling schemes for chips she was like Run DMC tougher than leather raw bitch but then she was soft like a feather never again will I meet a woman of her nature sky pager turned of dating one of the Lakers lucky ass nigga with a jump-shot he got that hot shit all in his pocke on lock damn I guess I'm jealous that other fellas got with her but her sister's bangin too what should I do? Fuck it I'll do like my nigga Smooth would the princess planting my seed in the next queen of Buddha bless fuck playing the 2nd string on the squad I'm blowin up all in your face word to God. B Smooth 2nd half of 2nd verse Yeah, I fucker in the hershey tunnel Deep inside it made her pussy bubble A Yo! She told me that it loves you I told her arch that back and let me see that ass And then I kissed it licked it stuck my nose all in position I told her baby listen -- Can't you see my fuckin dick is Throbbin' She started gobbalin, slobberin' dick gurgalin 'Burpin' it I told her it don't matter baby jusst don't bit it No nolds barred my dick was hard enough to dent a car I stuck it in between to spread da red sea apart The pussy fart was a mothafuckin' work of art She rode my dick just like a kawasaki till her puss started Soundin' sloppy like an old jalopy Time to nut took off the condom slapped her on the butt Then I busted in her in between her lips, then she started Lickin' it because it was good shit! Protein packed enriched Yeah I got my shit the Freaky Mr. Ricks (hook) I remember that freak bitch up in the club a Victoria secret she gives love no matter which way you keep it you get thrown out the picture now peep it you get the glove bitch.......... |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
1st verse
Sen Dog Ain't takin nobody back wit me It's on to the end anybody Who wanna get me Ain't lookin back putting all on the line Don't give a fuck bring the ruck one time and I think we should all get down and busy display the footwork leave you psinning till you're dizzy Niggas say who is he but I know for a fact the same fool that's watching is the one who will stab yo' back So make plot patrol nonstop know exactly who comes on the block Take no prisoners put that into effect get the name from your set Tat it on your neck gotta let these motherfuckers know who got next South side Cypress venue out here Out here catchin' wreck and show your respect when you step up to me son Don't immitate cause my style Ain't in season go back to the lab up grade chump get a new chump on before you get Dumped on. (hook) Melt down, takin you home the unknown count down, hittin the grown the seed grown downtown, creepin through alleys the dark night gets lit up when lightning strikes get up. 2nd verse Take a ride when lightening strikes city light are gleamin no sun shine no California dreamin The demon is roamin on the loose who got juice suffer abuse when electric currents are induced. Soul shocker lockin on rock on the brain waves what you clockin on I'm droppin a bomb you get maimed the games you play look up and say you wanna change and rearrange its strange you never go that way. Don't look back forget that you need that just sit back look at the show you see that. Display the raw power black out even the score open the door and break out leave it alone the unknown fury the blind rage step aside get fried and make the front page. Center stage you ask the task to leave quick or suffer the pain leavin no hope to be fixed your heart beat pumpin your blood high pressure look at you stuck in the mud bring in the stretcher strapped down ready to roll to God knows tears coming down of buckets of rain slow. (hook) Melt down, takin you home the unknown count down, hittin the grown the seed grown downtown, creepin through alleys the dark night gets lit up when lightning strikes get up. |
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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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3:25 |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
(MC Eiht)
Geeyeah, Soul Assassins two times, stick em! Geeyeah, Cypress Hill three times, come on! Geeyeah.. Infiltration be our daily operation for chasin Cross the seven seas eased, clockin much conversation Penetration, you know we gets busy, no hesitation Greenery, hand-picked, from my own plantation Feels the heat, under the som-brero to any amigo that's tryin to, stop the dineros Chills with, senoritas, like charro Get drunk off tequila lay low til tomorrow Follow, my flow, get the cash and go Call my homey B-Rizzy in Mexico City Loose lips sink ships, faker faces got guilt Didn't mean to call you late, I need a hideout til.. cool, homey, I'll bring some fuckin skunk The homey smuggle me across lines in a trunk Just like a bird I'm free, in a land with no fuckin extradition treaty, I'm out, geyeah "Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" (2X) "With the crew from off the Hill" (B-Real) B-Really killin the Phillie now can you feel me from the Soul Assassin committee, the shitty niggaz never thrill me You silly bitches never respect, neglect money You funny or broke, think it's a joke, your nose is runny Got my main man, Mr. Rocho kickin the vocals from the Eastside, where it's loco sellin the poco From the two G's, breakin the leaves of cheese, makin the bacon You hear it sizzle got your hands ready for the takin Evading the pigs, raiding my crib, I'm mad lib and I wanna live and I'm givin the message droppin the lesson Flippin shit, and I'm keepin em guessin they all stressin Hit the lullaby, no confession, we in session "Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" (4X) "With the crew from off the Hill" (MC Eiht) We's beez the three amigos, skates with nickel plates under the seat and we goes East Coast/West Coast, anybody killer! Soul Assassins gets the cash and smash *vroom* Who spits the Glocks like uno and dos? Makin your body dissapear like a ghost One time's tryin to gaffle me, harassin me tryin to send me to the penetentiary (B-Real) In the nighttime, niggaz are creepin you fuckin sleepin And the beat, just keeps on seepin into the street While you peakin I'm meetin and greetin the people speakin and leadin the motherfuckers who's seekin to catch, ruckus Meaning you suckers no-luckers overdub us, nut hug us You love us, you can't stop, these mad audio hustlers "Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" (5X) |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
(TV Reporter 1)
"We understand all of the officers in the Central Division have been ordered to wear their helmets and basically to get into riot gear" (TV Reporter 2) "OK, we have uh trouble breaking out here right now Tensions are building Uh, the police have just wrestled a couple of people to the ground" ("...Police in riot gear...") "The police are, uh, forming a long line now..." (B-Real) In the year of ninety-eight, you can't wait Niggaz been waitin on our release date I know how to pick em up, stick em up Everybody go crazy while I'm fuckin shit up Who's on the floor, while the beats break Hey ? feelin to catch a vibe, you buyin an e-ticket to the unknown, hilltop feelin a lot drop You gotta get the fuck out of the spot Hear no, speak no, see no, but we know Good reigns over evil, how it be though I'm doing it my way, like Carlito Taking over the whole scene, a bad dude, so Bring yourself off up the ground, start it up Break it up, shake it up. you better be wakin up Riot....Starter Riot....Starter Come on (Sen Dog) "Yeah...move it to the side Cypress Hill coming through once again Check this out, this is for ninety-eight, nine-nine Forever baby, come again now!" (B-Real) People like talkin, but can't walk a mile Puttin you down, but they can't bite a style I start the riot up, fire it up Watch the roof cave in, while I'm lightin the shit up You want some more, fanatical, rhyme animal Slammin your head, bangin the wall, it's all mechanical Hear no, speak no, see no, but we know Don't even try to breathe though, an amigo don't move unless you feelin the whole move Like a bomb, gonna blow, I'm killin the whole room Still no real souls, heal those through real shows Broken, how your grill goes, you feel those Then I pealed those off of the wall who got bombed Cypress Hill reignin supreme, we stand tall People never answer their call, they fall slow When the riot starts feelin the boom, you better roll Riot...Starter Riot...Starter Riot...Starter Riot...Starter Come on (Sen Dog) "Yo, get the fuck up out the stage We gonna tear the roof up off this motherfucker Yo, move the fuck out kid We gonna tear this shit up Hit that breakdown, homie!" (B-Real) Look at all the pigs they can't hold me down Riot gear on, they fiendin to get clowned Watch as I throw my weight, they hesitate while I'm circulatin the flow, movin through every state Stay calm, play on, be gone, the teflon No delay on the mission, I breathe calm Who's gonna be the thrilla when I'm gone Makin the scrilla, Manilla, the Don Juan Seek low, need no, info, the weed codes Don't even try to think though, I'm a kilo Dope shit, my position remains firm Fuckin your head up, take a sip, eat the worm Let it burn, up in your stomach, you never learn from it When the stoned of Soul comin to return Riot...Starter Riot...Starter Riot...Starter Riot...Starter Come on (Sen Dog) "Yo, get the fuck out of the way or get hurt man You got to move motherfucker, you got to move You gotta make shit happen Yo, once again, this is Sen Dog All the way from the Soul Assassins Laboratory Somewhere, who the fuck knows where at, knahmsayin? Big shout out, all the Soul Assassins across the country Whereever you at, yo check this shit out We comin hard baby, we bringin it live We gonna burn that motherfucker down yo Tryin to raise the roof, we wanna fuck it up We wanna do whatever it is the fuck you call it As long you get out the fuckin way, let Cypress come through Woooorrrdd, yeah We gonna call this one...the Riot, Starter! We wanna see that shit, everybody say that shit Riot Starteeerrrrr! |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
(feat. Barron Ricks)
Attendant: "That takes a fourteen shot clip You expecting an army?" Serpico: "No....just the division" [Barron Ricks] "Yeah, once again, (that's right) We about to attack this (Harlem Inc, Murder Inc) Yeah (Nicky Bond) Jimmy Cagney type shit, Nicky Santoro All my little short niggaz Joe Pesci and all that shit like this yo" Fillin out the cards to your eulogy Murder that ass, send my regards to your family, fuck it That's what niggaz get for fuckin with this maniac depressive nigga with aggresion, Smith and Wesson, in his possession Harlem got me like that, too many grimy, slimy niggaz on the take For short cake, we won't hesistate I miss inhabitants who politic in residence for presidents Across 110th, to 55th My covenant is protected, I'm doministic Survival principles my ethics, eastern philosophy's my method Good samaritans need paremedics, so what's your premise I hope you fuckin with Glocks and fo' fifths Wrath's Napolean, so teach your origin, slash wrists Shatter chins, and bust clips Check it, "here is somethin you can't understand" Steel Magnolia [B-Real] I got the steel magnum, braggin, leavin my toe tagged As I get raggamuffin, no bluffin, the body bagged Breaks all your bad habits, bad blood fanatics Clean up the magic, chrome startin up static Greed means that you die quick, click the vision Greed lies anmbition, five slugs for the mission Seven cause you go to the heaven or hell and dwell to meet your maker, but you met the shotgun shell Buckshots sting like bees, I smoke trees on the hilltops, clubshops and chilling overseas Take in the breeze, Mr. Freeze squeeze the trigger Killa G's got you week in the knees, to take it ea-sy! [Barron Ricks] Steel Magnolia Magnificent guns bust when 'Uzi Weighs a Ton' And yo' Glock spits, consecutive rounds shot from clips spells murder, sound synonymous to burner Leave niggaz ass up, gaspin for air, front seats of truck So who the fuck want me to press on they luck, bastard they son When gats start to hum and whole crowds begin to run Annihilation, destroyin all expectations Have relatives embrace your Harlem hopital, we all patient 5 foot 6, concealed steel, pop more grip With fixed sights that drifted to right, triggers light So relinquish son, I'm to the finish, and you acknowledge Couldn't pop a clutch or light a skyrocket, nigga stop it! Steel Magnolia [B-Real] Steel Magnolia, bury ya, six niggaz carry ya To your final rest area What you worried though, you ain't above that with a slug And your chest beats, blowin out your back, take it easy To your eulogy, open heart surgery Emergency, 911, come in a hurry From the Hills to the Polo realms, stackin the bills I put you under my lo-lo, hit my switch, then kill A bitch nigga steppin on my toes, fuck foes and hoes Get stuck in the ass like Pete Rose I suppose you wanna get wild and throw blows, you chose to get you nose your broke, in a thick cloud of smoke You're like a fat joint, I'm takin a toke, I'm like coke But you ain't smilin, feelin erratic, a fuckin addict To the dope shit, you better hope the shit stop Smooth, holdin the Glock, rockin the hot shit [Barron Ricks] Steel Magnolia Steel Magnolia Steel Magnolia Steel Magnolia |
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
Intro: B-Real and Sen Dog
B-R: Pa' la salud! (to your health!) SD: Pa' la salud! (to your health!) B-R: Primero yo... (me first...) (gulp) B-R: *grrrrrah!* B-R and SD: *mexican yells* SD: Cometelo! (eat it!) Verse One: B Smooth Word up, Tequila style... eat the worm Motherfucker (overlapping intro's end) Tequila spice, hot nice Milling rice, sipping on Jose Cuervo Down in Tiajuana, Mexico Thinking of the big score the night before Met the connect, who was impressively dressed In high fabrics With troops like Babe Ruth, up on the mezzanine Brandishing sub-machine guns, aye-yo It's all about the money, son Now that's the only reason We came south of the border, to complete this work order We gotta get it, no looking back, going all out for it Ready to attack, die in a minute flat for it As God is my witness, we got ditches for all you motherfuckin fake bitches It all boils down to the business Nothing personal, when niggaz acting like they helping you I fuckin blast you like Frank Castle, motherfucker! Chorus Tequila Sunrise, bloodshot eyes Realize we're all born to die So get the money nigga! (repeat 2x) Verse Two: B-Real I never knew money like this, in the palm of my hand 'Til I met the man with mad hook-up, and big plan Every where you look'a, he got everybody shook up Running for cover, the big bad WOOF, motherfucker He was like a father figure, show me the bigger picture Fuck slangin' on the corner, don't let the pigs get you Not like these fools who don't comprehend You end up doing a twenty-five bid in the pen You got that? Getting your cup, I took a swig The bitter taste of the 'mezcal', free worm shit Droppin' a lesson, he slapped my face, he said listen Pay attention brotha, you're my ace, but don't ever question Just do what I say, and you'll be rich And keep this in your mind: rats lay in a ditch with no spine Don't ever forget that golden rule in the game Cheers, they all know your name, it's like fame Why, women and money don't mix, like drinking an' driving Watch those conniving women and keep your eye out Always be aware of what's around you They wanna down you, and fuckin clown you Keep your shit in order the money won't stop Pretty soon you'll be on top Chorus Verse Three: B-Real Tequila Sunrise, with the bloodshot eyes My, my, my, how time flies and goes by surprise My mentor passed on and passed a warn to me, emergency For my enemies who wanna murder me Eat the worm, motherfucker, while you burn, motherfucker Better kill me, don't let me return, motherfucker Trust no man, cause I'll be back, you understand? With a plan, and my ace in hand, I want it all I recall the words from Jesus, you are the Juice Better go get it, don't let it get to your head, embed it Let these words stick, you better be ready to die Now take a fucking sip, caution it, but I never lie Chorus (music outro) |
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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 - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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4:53 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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4:37 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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4:37 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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3:09 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Don't let nobody treat me like crap I'm pullin heads off sharp and smack em off francs The best in these days I smoke on these tracks Gonna mash your plan for holdin me back Jump up rush the office with the gat Lettin the niggaz see where my mind is at Hurry up to the walls see how I react But I keep comin back and that's for a fact I got the beef, but no road I got dropped And take each day the bullshit don't stop Got to act with the man cause I don't suck cock No matter how bad I wanna get to the top The music go out like a fuckin lot With the key and the dat I rap and just stop Come and see me on a Soul Assas trip Hittin stage, generate, pumpin all that lip (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) If y'all ever need help I don't wait And I come from some shit that's put away I hit these suckers that think they so great Still a nigga die, so they can update No matter how you try you'll always be fate Breakin off chunks off of what I create I see that liquorice all over your face Back-stab a nigga in the mist of the chase Fuck the bullshit let's get to the bottom Stompin punk styles, agein rock got em Only thing I don't wanna say when I drop em Loadin my shells so don't try to hock em Hittin the heat with the jig-ass beats Bite my style, is the only way to compete Smoke anybody if I ever lop heat And anybody else that wanna fuck with me (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) I sing funky-ass shit that I bring Fly likes a lot when I do my thing Check it out y'all ain't no one nicer Got it goin on with the mighty wanna cipher Got a women crazy, when I beg And hip-hop styles with the SX-10 Trust no one ain't nobody your friend Cause this business hear all about to end Don't mean comin back when they bust the raps And all the little things of the nicer tracks Hangin out in the uniform Keep what I'm doin here all night long Is to keep it goin, bring the thunder and pain Ain't bitches same since I went insane Fuckin with these bitches up in this game To the depicts, drain on my FUCKIN TRAIN (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Don't let nobody treat me like crap I'm pullin heads off sharp and smack em off francs The best in these days I smoke on these tracks Gonna mash your plan for holdin me back Jump up rush the office with the gat Lettin the niggaz see where my mind is at Hurry up to the walls see how I react But I keep comin back and that's for a fact I got the beef, but no road I got dropped And take each day the bullshit don't stop Got to act with the man cause I don't suck cock No matter how bad I wanna get to the top The music go out like a fuckin lot With the key and the dat I rap and just stop Come and see me on a Soul Assas trip Hittin stage, generate, pumpin all that lip (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) If y'all ever need help I don't wait And I come from some shit that's put away I hit these suckers that think they so great Still a nigga die, so they can update No matter how you try you'll always be fate Breakin off chunks off of what I create I see that liquorice all over your face Back-stab a nigga in the mist of the chase Fuck the bullshit let's get to the bottom Stompin punk styles, agein rock got em Only thing I don't wanna say when I drop em Loadin my shells so don't try to hock em Hittin the heat with the jig-ass beats Bite my style, is the only way to compete Smoke anybody if I ever lop heat And anybody else that wanna fuck with me (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! (Sen Dog) I sing funky-ass shit that I bring Fly likes a lot when I do my thing Check it out y'all ain't no one nicer Got it goin on with the mighty wanna cipher Got a women crazy, when I beg And hip-hop styles with the SX-10 Trust no one ain't nobody your friend Cause this business hear all about to end Don't mean comin back when they bust the raps And all the little things of the nicer tracks Hangin out in the uniform Keep what I'm doin here all night long Is to keep it goin, bring the thunder and pain Ain't bitches same since I went insane Fuckin with these bitches up in this game To the depicts, drain on my FUCKIN TRAIN (Chorus) YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! YOU CAN'T FUCK WITH ME I AM EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO BE A FUCKIN MAN! |
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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Get ready motherfuckers!
You can't fuck with the [spanish] Please no interruptions Your crew pull up guns get waxed in the sun Like my rag top six-five Smash you with the switches The hitch is, you're gettin too big for your britches Why you runnin like bitches With your tail up, I'm the thug pirate Put the sail up - your whole crew frail, what You want this joint, suck it inhale nut Niggas are feelin' this track in Braile, huh We're grade A while you motherfuckers fail, what You understand, immitators gotta bail up To all the males and females gangin' up All on my cell phone talkin' shit, hangin' up I gotta show you how a nigga bang it up Slangin' cuts [Chorus:] Your squad against mine You're minor leagues with major Detail the plans like verse Hit hard, catch you off guard Another Victory I slay rappers with precision I got vision like Anakin You panicin' I'm leavin you stiffer than a mannequin My high lyrics constantly brain damagin' Brandishin' a fire arm, still managin' Hurt niggas, bandagin' who give my lyrics That play like a mandalin I hold my mic like my dick, but you handlin' I kill flows on tracks who abandonin' I eat you like pussy, then take a sample, Then spit fire in the places you standin' in I take a fool to the Hill Light a candle then you in the dark stuck part in the scandalin' Now I see your whole brain's scramblin' Don't like what you hear, change the channel then nigga [Chorus] I spark cells of a rhythm You best listen, get it over with Stolen shit, rollin it, Cypress ownin' it Bitin' niggas clonin it, I got a dog got a bone to pick, you holdin' it Suck it hard swallow easy, put a soul in it Your body's on the floor, head got a hole in it The weed master, rhyme killer, mic controllin' it You still fuckin' but your wack, ain't throwin' it Stepped in shit, now your chillin' all alone in it Head full of hair, still ain't combin' it Five child in the world who's ropin' it Never know if i'm high or i'm throwin' shit I got you stuck in the Twilight Zone on shit I'm the owner of the fat joint you rollin' with, bitch [Chorus] |
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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Get ready motherfuckers!
You can't fuck with the [spanish] Please no interruptions Your crew pull up guns get waxed in the sun Like my rag top six-five Smash you with the switches The hitch is, you're gettin too big for your britches Why you runnin like bitches With your tail up, I'm the thug pirate Put the sail up - your whole crew frail, what You want this joint, suck it inhale nut Niggas are feelin' this track in Braile, huh We're grade A while you motherfuckers fail, what You understand, immitators gotta bail up To all the males and females gangin' up All on my cell phone talkin' shit, hangin' up I gotta show you how a nigga bang it up Slangin' cuts [Chorus:] Your squad against mine You're minor leagues with major Detail the plans like verse Hit hard, catch you off guard Another Victory I slay rappers with precision I got vision like Anakin You panicin' I'm leavin you stiffer than a mannequin My high lyrics constantly brain damagin' Brandishin' a fire arm, still managin' Hurt niggas, bandagin' who give my lyrics That play like a mandalin I hold my mic like my dick, but you handlin' I kill flows on tracks who abandonin' I eat you like pussy, then take a sample, Then spit fire in the places you standin' in I take a fool to the Hill Light a candle then you in the dark stuck part in the scandalin' Now I see your whole brain's scramblin' Don't like what you hear, change the channel then nigga [Chorus] I spark cells of a rhythm You best listen, get it over with Stolen shit, rollin it, Cypress ownin' it Bitin' niggas clonin it, I got a dog got a bone to pick, you holdin' it Suck it hard swallow easy, put a soul in it Your body's on the floor, head got a hole in it The weed master, rhyme killer, mic controllin' it You still fuckin' but your wack, ain't throwin' it Stepped in shit, now your chillin' all alone in it Head full of hair, still ain't combin' it Five child in the world who's ropin' it Never know if i'm high or i'm throwin' shit I got you stuck in the Twilight Zone on shit I'm the owner of the fat joint you rollin' with, bitch [Chorus] |
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2:47 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Handle it, handle it
You know, motherfuckers need to have some weed etiquete True, true You see, motherfuckers try to come up and bogard your weed At the club, and they don't wanna share theirs Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats in background 6X) (B-Real) You know I hate it when I roll a joint and give it to somebody Who ain't got weed but they wanna be up in the party Laughin and gigglin, sippin on a Heinie Son you need a Tic Tac your breath is gonna blind me Talkin about you wanna hit, spittin in my eardrum Oh you new in the cypher, step to the rear son Still they manage to hit it, and put they grip on it That's when they wet the tip and put they lips on it Then when you get it, forget it, it's been wetted Who gonna hit it now, not me, you got me Thinkin about these fuckin jokers, double tokers Smokers who hit it like they suckin a dick, fuckers Flippin it, lovin it, smokin it to the head Givin it to me half way down, "thanks again" Then when you see 'em later smokin they own stash When you ask 'em for a hit, they say, "sorry this is my last" I shared some with you, "Sorry that's not my problem Talk to the hand but I got plenty if you wanna buy some" These people piss me off, this is true indeed But nothin's worse when someone's askin for some weed What do I look like a tree where the bud grows Here pick my left nut and smoke it in the bol Or better grow your own leave mine alone Here I'll give you a clone now raise up outta my zone I know I got the best weed, but don't make me Make your burnt chest bleed what you need Is weed etiquette, please don't be offended Cuz the weed costs money I'm the one who has to spend it And that's just the way it is man Y'all motherfuckers need to learn You just can't come, askin for some shit and not givin none in return What the fuck is that man? We goin into 2000 motherfucker You need to learn how to smoke some weed with people Pass it to the left motherfuckers Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats to the end) |
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2:47 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Handle it, handle it
You know, motherfuckers need to have some weed etiquete True, true You see, motherfuckers try to come up and bogard your weed At the club, and they don't wanna share theirs Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats in background 6X) (B-Real) You know I hate it when I roll a joint and give it to somebody Who ain't got weed but they wanna be up in the party Laughin and gigglin, sippin on a Heinie Son you need a Tic Tac your breath is gonna blind me Talkin about you wanna hit, spittin in my eardrum Oh you new in the cypher, step to the rear son Still they manage to hit it, and put they grip on it That's when they wet the tip and put they lips on it Then when you get it, forget it, it's been wetted Who gonna hit it now, not me, you got me Thinkin about these fuckin jokers, double tokers Smokers who hit it like they suckin a dick, fuckers Flippin it, lovin it, smokin it to the head Givin it to me half way down, "thanks again" Then when you see 'em later smokin they own stash When you ask 'em for a hit, they say, "sorry this is my last" I shared some with you, "Sorry that's not my problem Talk to the hand but I got plenty if you wanna buy some" These people piss me off, this is true indeed But nothin's worse when someone's askin for some weed What do I look like a tree where the bud grows Here pick my left nut and smoke it in the bol Or better grow your own leave mine alone Here I'll give you a clone now raise up outta my zone I know I got the best weed, but don't make me Make your burnt chest bleed what you need Is weed etiquette, please don't be offended Cuz the weed costs money I'm the one who has to spend it And that's just the way it is man Y'all motherfuckers need to learn You just can't come, askin for some shit and not givin none in return What the fuck is that man? We goin into 2000 motherfucker You need to learn how to smoke some weed with people Pass it to the left motherfuckers Can I get a hit of your weed (repeats to the end) |
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4:15 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Hell nah You can't handle a man of my superior strength I've been rockin for years, now it's time to go to length Bitin emcees in their tracks I stop em My rhyme style ?makin turn dropper? My concepts come sick like Dennis Hopper I jack fools up and stick em like dirty coppers Like I said before I'm takin you lame whores Down to the phone, knock his ass on your good balls Only one way to deal with these softies Take they ass out like heroes and they flossin And when you tell me you better bring styles Cause mine can go on and on and on for miles (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (B-Real) Five roll with the weakest What you need is ?the chrome plated heater So you can peep this Tragedy had to be in your mind soakin in Sad to see you broken down Not at least broken in Can't stop some hill shit >From comin though The reality is out with the old And with the new Ways and things change With strange ?haids? of braids shade? Switch place life and life plays with ?thumb pain? Does and untrues, the mobb leaves no clues In the dark confused, we choose to eat you Out the whole stroke away so I can listen-a We don't stop if you can't fuck commissioner (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (Sen Dog) Nigga get up on a rhymin (???) Takin out crews who think they are baddest Mad dog Sen for real is the maddest Fuck you punk and you're A&R status I stand in a zone though I'm never alone B-Real got my back checkin at your dome So when it comes down to who's (Spanish) I'm down for the pound and slangin the (Spanish) (Whole line in Spanish) Gonna make a move and smoke your fuckin hot-show Remove that sucker and the wack-ass shit Cause every time I see he's actin like a bitch So let's get it straight I smoke the competition Breakin down fools in my muthafuckin mission One by one they'll all come out missin You can't fuck with this here kid I ain't bitchin (Chorus) (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me |
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4:15 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
(Sen Dog)
Hell nah You can't handle a man of my superior strength I've been rockin for years, now it's time to go to length Bitin emcees in their tracks I stop em My rhyme style ?makin turn dropper? My concepts come sick like Dennis Hopper I jack fools up and stick em like dirty coppers Like I said before I'm takin you lame whores Down to the phone, knock his ass on your good balls Only one way to deal with these softies Take they ass out like heroes and they flossin And when you tell me you better bring styles Cause mine can go on and on and on for miles (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (B-Real) Five roll with the weakest What you need is ?the chrome plated heater So you can peep this Tragedy had to be in your mind soakin in Sad to see you broken down Not at least broken in Can't stop some hill shit >From comin though The reality is out with the old And with the new Ways and things change With strange ?haids? of braids shade? Switch place life and life plays with ?thumb pain? Does and untrues, the mobb leaves no clues In the dark confused, we choose to eat you Out the whole stroke away so I can listen-a We don't stop if you can't fuck commissioner (Chorus) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) YOU CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) CAN'T GET THE BEST OF ME (Can't hold me down) (Sen Dog) Nigga get up on a rhymin (???) Takin out crews who think they are baddest Mad dog Sen for real is the maddest Fuck you punk and you're A&R status I stand in a zone though I'm never alone B-Real got my back checkin at your dome So when it comes down to who's (Spanish) I'm down for the pound and slangin the (Spanish) (Whole line in Spanish) Gonna make a move and smoke your fuckin hot-show Remove that sucker and the wack-ass shit Cause every time I see he's actin like a bitch So let's get it straight I smoke the competition Breakin down fools in my muthafuckin mission One by one they'll all come out missin You can't fuck with this here kid I ain't bitchin (Chorus) (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me Can't get the best of me (Can't hold me down) You can't get the best of me You can't get the best of me |
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4:01 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
Call me the serial rhyme killer Mic-cord strangling, mangling, tangling, you in the web nigga Your head is dangling off of your shoulders Cause my mic told me to do it cause you wasn't a true soldier Fake bustas get hit with the clusterbomb You're a hotdog with no mustard, you're flusterd, I'm calm Spit heat like a fucking dragon, bagging you up Tagging you toe, zipping you up Clipping you up, mic-cord tripping you up You're in the dark with no light and wishing a nigga had lit you up So much for wishful thinking, you're body's stinking You're sinking into the hole and I'm at the top winking at ya [Sen-Dog] Don't play me too close I'm a certified bomb Designed to designate all over the tape Got my Cuban Puertoricans all up in the place Gonna smash you in the face with tapes check it out [B-Real] Call me imperial beatslayer All prayers try to be advisory to rivalry in the battle player Bitches who lie to me and cry to me use bribery I'm taking the torch and burn Puffy-music for canivalry That'll teach you I beat you on every plain Ain't no other way to reach you, I reach you with pain Shred you into pieces using the tigerclaw I'm a cold nigga you need more than a lighter to thaw Me and my lyrical Iceberg suckers are panic Fuck what you head I brought down the Titanic So can it and shut it, I wrote it and bust it because it never gonna be safe for wack niggas I don't trust 'em [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Call me superior showstopper, your hiphop legacy Claim us to remember we break you off proper Oh you got a short memory? You wanna render me? Harmless and surrender me for the fucking enemy? I won't let ya I bet ya I reign supreme Make your fans forget ya search ya in front of your team Make a nigga smoke a ounce and bounce over the rhythem And hit em and get another suck and hit em with venom Nigga my name is Sen and I'm real while you're pretending Suckers with no style I hope you get offended So I can lock your ass up with my jawclutches Then my rhymes will catch you cause they're sharp like Tony Touch's [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Yeah, that's right y'all Gonna smash you in the face Who be comming on touching me, getting around me I'm a bomb you know what I'm saying I'm ready to go off you know what I'm saying So many motherfuckers out there talking shit, doing their little thing It's cool you know what I'm saying, go ahead make you money But don't you be comming around me perplexing playing like a bitch You know what I'm saying Cause I can see your ass right through you know what I'm saying You're glass homeyboy, you're glass you know what I'm saying Don't play me too close y'all I don't think I like you too much you know what I'm saying Always kicking it, doing what we do Trying to act like us, trying to sound like us You're playing me too close motherfucker You need too step the fuck on back Take your ass on back to wherever the fuck you come from You're playing me way way too close you know what I'm saying |
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4:01 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
[B-Real]
Call me the serial rhyme killer Mic-cord strangling, mangling, tangling, you in the web nigga Your head is dangling off of your shoulders Cause my mic told me to do it cause you wasn't a true soldier Fake bustas get hit with the clusterbomb You're a hotdog with no mustard, you're flusterd, I'm calm Spit heat like a fucking dragon, bagging you up Tagging you toe, zipping you up Clipping you up, mic-cord tripping you up You're in the dark with no light and wishing a nigga had lit you up So much for wishful thinking, you're body's stinking You're sinking into the hole and I'm at the top winking at ya [Sen-Dog] Don't play me too close I'm a certified bomb Designed to designate all over the tape Got my Cuban Puertoricans all up in the place Gonna smash you in the face with tapes check it out [B-Real] Call me imperial beatslayer All prayers try to be advisory to rivalry in the battle player Bitches who lie to me and cry to me use bribery I'm taking the torch and burn Puffy-music for canivalry That'll teach you I beat you on every plain Ain't no other way to reach you, I reach you with pain Shred you into pieces using the tigerclaw I'm a cold nigga you need more than a lighter to thaw Me and my lyrical Iceberg suckers are panic Fuck what you head I brought down the Titanic So can it and shut it, I wrote it and bust it because it never gonna be safe for wack niggas I don't trust 'em [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Call me superior showstopper, your hiphop legacy Claim us to remember we break you off proper Oh you got a short memory? You wanna render me? Harmless and surrender me for the fucking enemy? I won't let ya I bet ya I reign supreme Make your fans forget ya search ya in front of your team Make a nigga smoke a ounce and bounce over the rhythem And hit em and get another suck and hit em with venom Nigga my name is Sen and I'm real while you're pretending Suckers with no style I hope you get offended So I can lock your ass up with my jawclutches Then my rhymes will catch you cause they're sharp like Tony Touch's [Chorus] [Sen-Dog] Yeah, that's right y'all Gonna smash you in the face Who be comming on touching me, getting around me I'm a bomb you know what I'm saying I'm ready to go off you know what I'm saying So many motherfuckers out there talking shit, doing their little thing It's cool you know what I'm saying, go ahead make you money But don't you be comming around me perplexing playing like a bitch You know what I'm saying Cause I can see your ass right through you know what I'm saying You're glass homeyboy, you're glass you know what I'm saying Don't play me too close y'all I don't think I like you too much you know what I'm saying Always kicking it, doing what we do Trying to act like us, trying to sound like us You're playing me too close motherfucker You need too step the fuck on back Take your ass on back to wherever the fuck you come from You're playing me way way too close you know what I'm saying |
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4:13 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Sen Dog:
Ya esta dicho, esta hecho en la sangre de todos los criminales del grupo de Cypress Hill ¡pa' que sepan! Estamos en tu cara otra vez y no nos vamos a ir en tu ??? [Verse 1] I do it to ya all like in your earhole, cuz I'ma "Goodfella" just like De Niro, punk I'm a ten, you just a fucking zero, huh I get your woman off like Robbie Shapiro, what? You want jellyroll son, I'm a hero, oh You're on your knees on my dick like a clit hoe then You say you hate me but you follow my career though huh Wanna see a trick? I make you disappear yo, yo I make it hotter than a fuckin' inferno Wanna test you comin' up shorter than DeVito I'll scar your face when I cut you like Pacino You gamble with your life inside of my Casino Hold up I'm runnin' shit just like Gambino I got the hogs sweatin' more than Bob Barino I switch tongue cuando estas en mi camino Then I switch it back cuz in that style I swing yo' Beat your head like a drum yeah, a todo ritmo I sit back simply pretend I'm Ringo Slay you any style yeah whatever type of lingo I'm a natural killer like Tarantino, yeah [HOOK] Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 2] Call me breakin' think you know my nigga Dino With the Ratpack nigga sippin' on vino I give it to you double XXL like Chino I'm the eastsidah who's reppin' Angelino's I know you trippin' but I'm due another single, ha Treat the music like my honey got a wrinkle, yeah I'm the mushroom making people tickle You couldn't hang with a joint from Domingo's So, you gotta make room when you hear my jingle Like I crack your head with the bat, big Bambino style (boomya!) You smoked out there in San Bernadino We fuck shit up with the hardcore estilo (Bandido!) light your lighter then a kilo I'm Megatron got you wet like a Primo Cancerous rhyme now that you needin' chemo Peace to my fam out in El Cerrino That's right punk, it's the soul asesino Better watch your back, who's pilin' up cochinos? Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 3] Killin' niggas like a Sicilian named Gino When your numbers up all my nigga yell regal You a fine woman, was a fine Filipino, then She looked good in the black Benzino, yeah Yo' style's not yours like Doritos With the fabulous fall just like the Beatles Platinum dust oh now you wanna sprinkle, well I clown niggas much more than Melenko's, heh For all the wild ones and all my vecinos Never get your ass caught up with a stank hoe Pussy weigh deeper than a big fucking cinco Don't be mad I'm lookin out for my amigo You wanna copy my style? go to Kinko's Watch me, I'm reloaded, just like Carlito My style so dope they should label it illegal You want beef? then I call my nigga Steve-o Whip your ass up just like Niccoleo Sayin' my name burst your mark like "Tapatio!", punk You can't deal with it, you can't deal with it You can't deal with it, it's Cypress Hill with it Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Sen Dog: That's right comepingas, mira, oyeme te voy a decir una cosa: el Capitan Pingaloca no juega a ningun juego ¿sabes que? ¡Voy a venir con el machete a cortarte la cabeza hijo de puta! No me gustan estos maricones que vienen por aqui con el pecho saca'o, hablando cosas mierdas. Mira, maricon, te corto el corazon y me lo como y despues me echo un mojon con tu comida jajaja... pa' que sepas, asi son las cosas... ¿Como se dice?... ¡¡Revolucion compadre!! |
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4:13 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Sen Dog:
Ya esta dicho, esta hecho en la sangre de todos los criminales del grupo de Cypress Hill ¡pa' que sepan! Estamos en tu cara otra vez y no nos vamos a ir en tu ??? [Verse 1] I do it to ya all like in your earhole, cuz I'ma "Goodfella" just like De Niro, punk I'm a ten, you just a fucking zero, huh I get your woman off like Robbie Shapiro, what? You want jellyroll son, I'm a hero, oh You're on your knees on my dick like a clit hoe then You say you hate me but you follow my career though huh Wanna see a trick? I make you disappear yo, yo I make it hotter than a fuckin' inferno Wanna test you comin' up shorter than DeVito I'll scar your face when I cut you like Pacino You gamble with your life inside of my Casino Hold up I'm runnin' shit just like Gambino I got the hogs sweatin' more than Bob Barino I switch tongue cuando estas en mi camino Then I switch it back cuz in that style I swing yo' Beat your head like a drum yeah, a todo ritmo I sit back simply pretend I'm Ringo Slay you any style yeah whatever type of lingo I'm a natural killer like Tarantino, yeah [HOOK] Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 2] Call me breakin' think you know my nigga Dino With the Ratpack nigga sippin' on vino I give it to you double XXL like Chino I'm the eastsidah who's reppin' Angelino's I know you trippin' but I'm due another single, ha Treat the music like my honey got a wrinkle, yeah I'm the mushroom making people tickle You couldn't hang with a joint from Domingo's So, you gotta make room when you hear my jingle Like I crack your head with the bat, big Bambino style (boomya!) You smoked out there in San Bernadino We fuck shit up with the hardcore estilo (Bandido!) light your lighter then a kilo I'm Megatron got you wet like a Primo Cancerous rhyme now that you needin' chemo Peace to my fam out in El Cerrino That's right punk, it's the soul asesino Better watch your back, who's pilin' up cochinos? Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit [Verse 3] Killin' niggas like a Sicilian named Gino When your numbers up all my nigga yell regal You a fine woman, was a fine Filipino, then She looked good in the black Benzino, yeah Yo' style's not yours like Doritos With the fabulous fall just like the Beatles Platinum dust oh now you wanna sprinkle, well I clown niggas much more than Melenko's, heh For all the wild ones and all my vecinos Never get your ass caught up with a stank hoe Pussy weigh deeper than a big fucking cinco Don't be mad I'm lookin out for my amigo You wanna copy my style? go to Kinko's Watch me, I'm reloaded, just like Carlito My style so dope they should label it illegal You want beef? then I call my nigga Steve-o Whip your ass up just like Niccoleo Sayin' my name burst your mark like "Tapatio!", punk You can't deal with it, you can't deal with it You can't deal with it, it's Cypress Hill with it Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Sen Dog: That's right comepingas, mira, oyeme te voy a decir una cosa: el Capitan Pingaloca no juega a ningun juego ¿sabes que? ¡Voy a venir con el machete a cortarte la cabeza hijo de puta! No me gustan estos maricones que vienen por aqui con el pecho saca'o, hablando cosas mierdas. Mira, maricon, te corto el corazon y me lo como y despues me echo un mojon con tu comida jajaja... pa' que sepas, asi son las cosas... ¿Como se dice?... ¡¡Revolucion compadre!! |
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3:54 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
When people stare at the scene like a machine of the team
looking for theme between cracks searching for cream physical image can never be lost never be cleverly read or took on into the search of your own suckers are looking for treasures and pleasures endeavours images of plastic material whenever your ready your steady rolling with deadly and friendly territorial glorious story you've heard nothing but bull for me Coming from ghetto the guero the heart in the metal settle for gas as we passing you fast in the pedal head to the floor and the horror is starting to pour everything I just threatened your blood you can't take it no more why did you try to forget it I said it to FUCK OFF!! now you'll be headed said I'm making you try to do laws that's what you get for faking it hot and no more living I'm sucker I'm pushing the bomb. (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. ???? is loaded with snakes serpents who come and they take pieces of those who they break bodies are found in the lake only the victims its pass you thought that you gonna last pockets all over the cash now that you're actually grass high kids taking and sliping away look at you tricking and sipping its clicking the trigger and so is your place only the strong will survive hoping to keep 'em alive I'll never be denied watch on who you can find People around and they're proud looking for those who obye dying like these killas defy so I keep up the withdrawl join fucking with the pace your just a waste in my face hit you in base in your case if all you want is a taste even the lemo the rebel bringing the metal in temple so many rebels incredible time we battle looking for action don't judge us avenge us redempt us don't give me negligence your all though in time no revenges (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. Under the heavens we representing directions of flesh and feeling the heat the tension now dissin' we stressin' life is a battle to the cattle you gonna die just how that'll just suffer your glad you built up your high and go up the chain the pages keep turning and burning the rage is concerning the day is becomming disarming searching for harmony you wanna be balling me but you never get no where cause I'm killing your whole philosophy Robbing like temperature I signal your flow when we just clowning just tell me just pass me watch me I'm truly tampering y'all must be simple delinquent to try to get what the sick is so leave the hard is to limp it and only the thrill will we get it? I'm an assasin of soul out of control when I roll you better hide in your hole I got your name on my skull there ain't no running from me assasin of hunees you see blastin at those who obye blasting at last at the weak! (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust |
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3:54 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
When people stare at the scene like a machine of the team
looking for theme between cracks searching for cream physical image can never be lost never be cleverly read or took on into the search of your own suckers are looking for treasures and pleasures endeavours images of plastic material whenever your ready your steady rolling with deadly and friendly territorial glorious story you've heard nothing but bull for me Coming from ghetto the guero the heart in the metal settle for gas as we passing you fast in the pedal head to the floor and the horror is starting to pour everything I just threatened your blood you can't take it no more why did you try to forget it I said it to FUCK OFF!! now you'll be headed said I'm making you try to do laws that's what you get for faking it hot and no more living I'm sucker I'm pushing the bomb. (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. ???? is loaded with snakes serpents who come and they take pieces of those who they break bodies are found in the lake only the victims its pass you thought that you gonna last pockets all over the cash now that you're actually grass high kids taking and sliping away look at you tricking and sipping its clicking the trigger and so is your place only the strong will survive hoping to keep 'em alive I'll never be denied watch on who you can find People around and they're proud looking for those who obye dying like these killas defy so I keep up the withdrawl join fucking with the pace your just a waste in my face hit you in base in your case if all you want is a taste even the lemo the rebel bringing the metal in temple so many rebels incredible time we battle looking for action don't judge us avenge us redempt us don't give me negligence your all though in time no revenges (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust. Under the heavens we representing directions of flesh and feeling the heat the tension now dissin' we stressin' life is a battle to the cattle you gonna die just how that'll just suffer your glad you built up your high and go up the chain the pages keep turning and burning the rage is concerning the day is becomming disarming searching for harmony you wanna be balling me but you never get no where cause I'm killing your whole philosophy Robbing like temperature I signal your flow when we just clowning just tell me just pass me watch me I'm truly tampering y'all must be simple delinquent to try to get what the sick is so leave the hard is to limp it and only the thrill will we get it? I'm an assasin of soul out of control when I roll you better hide in your hole I got your name on my skull there ain't no running from me assasin of hunees you see blastin at those who obye blasting at last at the weak! (Chorus:) Do what you want do what you need the hardcore breaking the law the new seed yes they want more Cypress Hill Soul Assasins we smokin 420 all day we ain't joking serve it up oh yes and the hard stuff excess of the zes make it sound right beat it up all you want it's a damn right get up in my way I'll cross your ass like dust |
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3:30 |
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from Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones (2000)
Get Out Of My Head
I can't see in the dark, but I see you Words don't come from your heart, but they get through Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me (chorus) Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart I thought it was love But there's love and there's love So get out of my head and get into my heart Not much more I can do than what I've done You shot me through the heart without a gun Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me Chorus Instrumental Something's happened to you Something's happened to me Someone's changing our lives I know it isn't me Chorus Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart Get out of my head and get into my heart |
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