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31.10.1995 |
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. . .
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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 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
. . .
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[B-Real]
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
[B-Real]
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
[B-Real]
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
[Sen Dog]
Yeah, that's right
Straight givin' up the 'hood long day fool!
Cypress Hill muthafucka watcha wanna do?
Hell no
. . .
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[B-Real]:
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
[B-Real]:
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
. . .
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[B-Real]
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
[Chorus]
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
[B-Real]
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
[Chorus]
[B-Real]
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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f/ RZA, U-God
[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.
. . .
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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
. . .
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...yo 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 so 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 & tear this motherfucker up!
Talk about Ezy, correct yourself.
Cube, better step back & check yourself!
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 King Sun!
He tried to warn us niggaz aboutcha
But nobody would listen, even started dissin'
Two albums later, you callin' my crew,
All because ya wannabe Cypress Cube!
Shoulda known 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 Boy N Da Hood!
No Vaseline,
Just a rope & a chair & gasoline!
Lench Mob is a friend of mine,
But you talk about them niggaz from behind.
You know what the Hossack(sp) 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 running outside!
Natural Born Bullshitta! Lemme hitcha
With a dose of reality when I get witcha!
Your homie...????????????????????
Put a pipe on the cover, even though you don't smoke
Buddha! Let me take you down under on a plane
Where everybody was going insane!
Took a look at the Real one,
AFRO COMB! Next morning you didn't have yours on.
How many ways will you bite my shit?
Wouldja wet me or start throwing up a set?
Caution, when you enter the zone,
Never used to bang 'til you heard the microphone!
I got Cube melting in a Tray,
Pulling up his card & 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.
. . .
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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
. . .
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[B-Real]
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
[Hustlers]
--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
[B-real]
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?
[Hustlers]
--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!
[B-Real]
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
[Hustlers]
--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'
. . .
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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
. . .
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"Ese look at these two motherfuckers right here homes"
"So what you thinkin homes?"
"?? it turns around homes (watch out!)"
"Right, I got your back homes, cool"
"C'mon Ese let's go"
"Let's do this"
[B-Real & Sen Dog]
You don't want to turn your back on me
When you least expect it, I come with a wicked method
I'm creepin on ya
Think bout your homeboys bleeding on ya
It's the the locote coming out the bote
I got a new jale jacking in the noche
Give me your feria
In your pocket or they'll carry ya
Off and bury ya in the Eastside area
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
The thievery don't stop 'til I get done
Sometimes I don't even need my GAT
But shit's getting deep and I gotta
Blast back to thievery 1 robbery 1 robbery
Cuz jacking is my hobby
Give me that money, jewelry and your keys
To the five-o outside on deez
Later, out with the 85 mustang
One-time got me on the radar
Trucha! And you don't stop 'til I'm done
Now the puercos got me on the run
[B-Real & Sen Dog]
You don't want to turn your back on me
When you least expect it, I got your keys
in my possession with my Smith & Wesson
Taking out all my agression
Check it out - you're looking at the jefe
of that cliqua with the big bad trece
I teach you a lesson, no question
Get your ass out now you're passing out
When you look at the cuete
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
The robery don't stop 'til I get done
Some niggas do this shit for fun
Now the puercos got me on the run
From barrio to barrio
Looking for anybody, Oh Cesario
Hanging out with Mario
Looking for a place to hide on the Westside
Spank got my back over there right
And it don't stop 'til I'm done
Now the one-time got me on the run
[B-Real & Sen Dog]
One-time's not down with us
Now they're lookin for my ride, but I'm on the bus
Don't turn your back on a vato like me
Cause I'm one broke motherfucka in need
Desperate! What's going on in the mente
Taking from the rich and not from my gente
Look at that gabacho sipping borracho from the cerveza
He's sipping, no me vale, madre
Gabacho pray to your padre
This is for the time you would give me the jale
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
This ol motherfucker, got him a gun
Bla-on!I took one to the kneecap
Things happened so fast now I dropped my strap
Now I'm about to meet my maker
I thought I had it all, figured it out for the paper
No longer will I be runnin
. . .
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[Sen Dog]
"(Inhales) Break that shit off nigga"
[B-Real]
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"
[B-Real]
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)
. . .
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[B-Real]:
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,
[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 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,
. . .
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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
. . .
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"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)
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[B-Real]
I got the sawed off shotgun
hand on the pump
with the fucking red bastard
snitching like a punk
I had the operation tight the flaws
faded doors
there's no growin room on the basement floor
I'm holding weight every 30 days
business pays
so many ways
many methods of moving my white haze
I got the cellophane, get this money tonite
I got the shipment goin out
got to be air tight
so when you fuck around
no time for me to fuck around
I got the ballin niggaz waitin on me
at the compound
so get the trucks ready, and let's hit the back roads
to scam this motherfuckin' ass border patrol
I got my cousin Huey paid
for lookin away
back on the 405 on the way to LA
*talking*
I'm multiplying in my head
just how much stash it's gonna take for me
to double and triple up all my cash
I hit the city limits, time for me to check myself
cause I don't wanna sit inside no fuckin cell
slope the rolls down, hold down, I see the gate
so I'm pulling up, and I hope these fools ain't late
or I'm outta here, wait, no, I see them in the rear
with 3 or 4 fools holding 2's in the real
I got the double barrel shit, hidden under my coat
for any crazy eyed motherfucker rockin the boat
I got the big boss hoss, just sippin the sauce
you got the shit? you got the money?
then break the shit off
(sang reggae style)
check out the herb man smugglin'
bright and early in the mornin'
this is for the herb man smugglin'
I know the DEA is waitin'
take out the herb man smugglin'
It's my ass that I'm risking
this is for the herb man sumgglin'
I know it's your daily livin'
I came a long, long way from slangin the herb
sometimes I think about when I was kickin it to the curb
now it's dirt in my pocket
but shit done changed
tatoos on my body and fat gold chains
got the mega shipment that must go out
on the same route me and my cousins started out
head back to Mexico for a friend of mine
we're gonna bring this shit load back, 4-0 pounds
it's like crack rock, cause we done this shit before
now I loaded up the stash on the hollow floor
double checkin everything, now it all looks cool
now we rollin to the border like we used to do
we pulled up at the border, but something was wrong
I began to realize that the swoop was on
I had the DEA and immigration closin' in
they had dogs all around my shit, no way to win
they lookin in the truck, now I know the shit's for blast
DEA agent sayin "now I got your ass"
it's been a long time smugglin, now I'm done
it's all over now, it's lookin' like I'm Audi, son
Now I'm headed up the river with the boat and no paddle
and they got me in lock down..
(reggae)
big up to the herb man smugglin'
... now they got me in lock down
peace to the herb man smugglin'
... now they got me in lock down
respect to the herb man smugglin'
... now they got me in lock down
what's up to the herb man smugglin'
... now they got me in lock down
shootouts to Method Man, Redman, Bob Marley
. . .
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