Альбом Cypress Hill

w/ The Fugees

[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

f/ Def Squad Artists, MC Eiht

Intro: Sen Dog

Yeah
Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins
Cypress Hill joint.
Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...
...so get it on kid!

Verse One: Erick Sermon

Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte
Quicker done than O.J., hey
I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master
Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya
Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?
And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill
Huh, I go on with my bad self
I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker
Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes
I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes
Never walk through the crowd sluggish
I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish
The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON
I gets real determined
And one for the trouble, and two for the bass
I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace
And if you don't know, y'all better recognize
I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed

Verse Two: B-Real

Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits
Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate
Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill
With chips and clips and tons of blue steel
So who wants to be the first nigga to die?
Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini
You get thrown sent home in a coffin
Punk stuff don't make it back, very often
I got Erick to take care of the Sermon
Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin
Bustin open the doors to the temple
Takin you to the dark side of your mental

Chorus: B-Real

Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air

Chorus

Verse Three: Redman

I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy
finger up on the pen, be like "He the bomb, dicky!"
These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me
So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*
Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch
Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis
is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit
Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC
*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest
individual, to put criminal in diapers
With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch
You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis
in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!
With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge
Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder
You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of

Chorus

Verse Four: MC Eiht

Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang
The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang
Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip
Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip
Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me
Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me
Keep your hands on your hood, you get got
The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock
You wish you could hang, like I hang
Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing
G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you
Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you
Ain't no poppin, no stoppin
Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block
Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this
I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress

Chorus

Chorus

Outro: Sen Dog

Aight, for everybody
All our peeps out on the corners
All the alleyways
For all our deceased
Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets
Nineteen ninety-five

f/ Call O' Da Wild

(*B-Real sings the chorus on 11 seconds*)

(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 (???) has captured run for the (???)
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 knowI'msayin?
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 (????) 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 (????) 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 knowI'msayin?
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

Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill

(B-Real)
Well I'm an alley cat, some say a dirty rat
On my side is my gat, see I'm all of that
Sendin off 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-yaa
You're stuck in my so 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

(Chorus)
(B-Real)
Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, (puffin onna blunt)
Pumped my shotgun, (niggaz didn't jump)
La, la, la, la, la, la, la laaaaa...

Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill

(Sen Dog)
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 soooo
How they want to pass sentence
All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger
He missed, so now the nigga's pissed
Rude and crude like a pitbull get to the point
Your fuckin car 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 getcha
Fucking do ya, shotgun go boo-yaa!

(Chorus)
(B-Real)
Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, (puffin onna blunt)
Pumped my shotgun, (niggaz didn't jump)
La, la, la, la, la, la, la laaaaa...

Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill

(B-Real)
Kickin that funky Cypress Hill shit
Take a lot of mental for the blunted to chill with
Cuz I'm the chill one, known to get ill one
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
Hit me 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
Out for the Hill fuckin up at a party
Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body
La, la, la, la, la, la, la laaa
Look at all of those funeral cars
Cause I'ma

(Chorus)
(B-Real)
Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, (puffin onna blunt)
Pumped my shotgun, (niggaz didn't jump)
La, la, la, la, la, la, la laaaaa...

Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill

[Whatta you know?] (3x)

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.

Do you want to get high?
Does everybody wanna get high?

(B-Real)
Hits From the Bong
Hits From the Bong
Hits From the Bong
Hits From the Bong

(B-Real)
Pick it, pack it, fire it up, come aloooong
And take hits from the boooong
Put the blunt down just for a second
Don't get me wrong it's not a new method
Inhale, Exhale - just got a ounce in the mail
I like a blunt or a big fat coal
But my double barrel bong is gettin me stoned
I'm skill it, there's water inside don't spill it
It smells like shit on the carpet
Still it, goes down smooth when I get a clean hit
Of the skunky funky smelly green shit
Sing my song, puff all night long
As I take Hits from the bong...

Hits From the Bong y'all
Can I get a hit?
Hits From the Bong
Can I get a hit?
Hits From the Bong
Can I get a hit?
Hits From the Bong

(B-Real)
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

(Chorus)
(B-Real)
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?
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?
Hits From the Bong
Can I get a hit?
Hits From the Bong
Hits From the Bong
Hits From the Bong

Some people tell me that I need help
Some people can fuck off and go to hell
God dam why they criticize me
Now shit is on the rise and my family despise me
Fuck em and feed em cuz 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 hook on chronic.
I never wanted to hurt a nigga
Unless you come flexing that trigger
I'll dig ya that grave on the east side of town
Now your 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 on a bang
Wa dada dang wa dada da dang

(Hook)

I'm having illusions all this confusion's
Driving me mad inside
I'm having illusions all this confusion's
Fuckin me up in the mind.

Mother fuckas be driving me up the walls
Hoping 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 all reality now I'm let out
On a minor technicality .... They all fucked up now
Cuz they let a nigga back on the street some how
I'm looking for some one like me
Living in my own world to my own degree
On the loose in the city looking at the ho with the titties
Looking at me and I feel shitty
A lil tensed up getting hot
Cuz she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot
I'm trying to find ways to cope
But I ain't fuckin around with a gage or a rope.

(Hook)

I'm having illusions all this confusion's
Driving me mad inside
I'm having illusions all this confusion's

{"Quieres ser, un pescador.."}
{"Bonjourno, Pietro.."}
{"Prince Paul!"}
{"Bad, let's start the fuckin show, ah?"}

Latin Lingo - "Here comes the pain!"

[Sen Dog]
I freak to the funk that no-one else is bringin
Sen Dog with the funky bilingüe
Yeah that's the nombre, heard that homey?
Peace to Mellow and Frost, and the deporte
Sen Dog is not a kid or veterano
I'm down, another fried Hispano
One of the many of the Latins este año
And I got plenty for the Jennies tryin to hound yo
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 & 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]
Cuando entros, when I come in, the suckers fronted
They mida, another bilingual from bein
Tengo, como ejemplo, check the tempo
Ahh, esta chingon el instrumento
Ya no usted, como somos
Yo no jovo, I gots my soul though
And you can hear it, in las skonkas
Tribal ceremony as the Hill gets stronger
Don't be such a leper what you got for la cabeza
Hey homes, pass the cerveza
Before I have to go and push up on your resa
Hmm, she's fine, something fresca
Here homes have a hit of this yesca
Dicho enseño, 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 a gang thang, vatos get it BANG, BANG
Could of hung out with them now you callin me a insane
Senta la mi cara, senta mi camino
Make way (yeah) for the funky bilingual

[Chorus: B-Real & 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's en la casa
Cause everyday things get a little crazier
As I step to the microphone area
First I claim my city, puro los angeles
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 borracho
Had an attitude, tried to play me macho
Just relax, calmado mijo
Sen Dog with the funky bilingual

[Chorus: B-Real & 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 say peace, to my homeboy B-Real
Mellow Man Ace, Kid Frost, and Ralph M the Mexican

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