| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 3:42 | 
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[Intro] * "Say what?" scratched repeatedly * [Sen Dog] I be that, short-temper, hostile rhyme bringer Lifestyle gone wild, similar to rock singers Check me on the big screen, livin' out my dreams Cypress, Assassins, SX, latin thug thing Fools think they get bad, I ain't really with that Flavour of the month, bro, (?) try to dispatch Always got the good badge, take it to the head Got me wasted like Jerry from the Grateful Dead Don't trip, get a grip, be strong and don't fake it Or else you get beat down, an' stripped butt-naked I just kick the lyric, straight from the spirit You can tell I got soul first time as you hear it Chorus - Sen Dog and B-Real (repeat 2x) Welcome to the show, all come inside You can hear proper sound when it's Amplified You wanna party with the best and say "fuck the rest" 'Cos we take away ya stress and never settle for less [B-Real] When you deal with the Hill, keep your mouth still If you rely on your skill then rely on your steel If you have no ideal, or any thoughts to feel What you sought was real, to give 'em slots to fill Busters stop to deal But I face them, quicker than takin' a box of pills Now you gots to chill Get cops and sheilds, steady, hark the (?) If they're lookin' for prey, ready to stalk and kill As I lock the wheel, don't you mock the drill 'Cos I'll cock my steel, make you drop and spill Got no mercy unless you talk to deal Quit talk and kneel, you won't top my will, bitch! Chorus (repeat 2x) * "Say what?" scratched some more* [Sen Dog] Ain't no-body better, on that you can bet (CY-PRESS!) Wanna see a dope show? Put your money on my set Real emcees and real DJs Real South-siders from the heart of LA Now, back in the day we had big sucess And it's like that now and we won't settle for less You can beat the LB from the new latin lingo Nowadays you nothin', without a hit single Time to get loco, and put bodies in motion Hit the stage in a rage, and start up a commotion No I ain't jokin, see my mic smokin'? I slam it like the art and make sure it's broken Chorus (repeat 2x) *scratching to fade* |
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| 2. |
| 3:29 |
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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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| 3. |
| 4:01 |
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[Sen Dog] Bout to mash these niggaz man Don't come in my backyard motherfucker Hahaha, B-Real and the DOG, motherfucker! Ha! Yeah Here we go y'all, that's the nigga head dog Lunatic smokin loops, loose in your sector Got my eye on em, on the apparatus like a bone to a dog, yea you know I gotta have it Anywhere you get it shit, and I'ma grab it Turn around stares to your face and I jab it Drop you, like one of those ill bad habits Hunt you, like a hillbilly huntin a rabbit Cuttin niggaz up like Muggs on the wheels for reals, penetentiary steel Pull heads to bed from the choke of a headlock Fadin baldheads to perms, even dreadlocks BWOY, rudebwoy with me style I can get foul or wild, or just cool for a while Chorus: B-Real, Sen Dog (Checkmate fool!) Hang em high Got the live shit, bang em whenever you/he wanna try Shoot to thrill, be at the Hill, I/we take em all (Checkmate fool!) Wherever the pawns fall * repeat 2X * [B-Real] Look look punk, every way you get shook To the pawn, takin out the rook, off of the book Lights get tooken, taken you for Satan You can't breathe, no need to look up and see me The last hope, when you mellow you call whoever For the hype shit, you call the Hill, put it together Runnin this game, bringin the same, raw shit Over the hills, through the city we come equipped to the letter, keepin your temperature down low What I reveal, the good shit to heal all souls Makin you roll late night, you trippin, my game's tight To the new shit I bring, never the same hype so PUSH THAT SHIT OFF, get up, don't let off No matter how much blood you spit up You could never be, fuckin with Greenthumb The outcome's specific, you spliff it, collapsed lung We hit hard, breakin your guard, you can't tell when the bells ring, bustin your shell, the pawn fell Chorus (Peek-a-Boo, you fuck you!) [Sen Dog] I'ma freak that funk yea slam it in the trunk I'ma kill all junk with the suicide clunk Ain't nobody came my way, talkin bout the Westside of L.A., so whatever punk-ass click you claim, you keep bumpin that shit and elevate your frame, cause I want that big-time, asshole, studio gangsta Worth a lot of shit, but that's not the main factor [B-Real] My nigga Sen's rollin again, remember when we rocked shows, battlin foes, the time's been long Strong with the styles, you ain't hear to win Like blood pourin out of the pen, the ink stains Slim chance if it gets in your brain, the hot flash got you heated with repeated attacks over the tracks Smack niggaz up, back niggaz up, hack niggaz up Jack niggaz up, hangin the wack niggaz up Snowball effect, we rollin the city limits Crushin the bitch-ass niggaz with all the gimmicks Chorus [Sen Dog] Checkmate fool! |
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| 4. |
| 3:48 |
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[Sen Dog] Freak to the funk that no-one else is bringing Sen Dog with the funky bilenge Yeah that's the nombre, heard the homey Peace to Mellow and Frost, and the deporte Sen Dog is not kid from the Telano I'm down, another fried hispano One of the many of the latin deseyano [de-say-ahnyo] And I got plenty for the Jennies tryin to hound dog But wait, they're clownin on me cause of my language I have to tell em straight up, it's called spanglish Now who's on the fiend, gala gringo Tryin to get paid, from the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Yeah, funky bilingual! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo! [Sen Dog] From the entro, when I come in, suckers fronted They mida, another bilingual from bein a banga, como ejemplo, check the tempo Ahh, it's that chingonla instrumental Ya no usted, como somos Yo no jovo, I gots the soul dose And you can hear it, in las skonkas Tribal ceremony as the Hill gets stronger Don't be such a leper what chupa la cabeza Hey homes, pass the cervaza Before I have to go and push up on your resa Hmm, she's fine, son que fresca Here homes have a hit of this yesca Deep yo enseno [en-senyo] the lingua la prento Now you know, that I am in the centro Where you live, si tu puedes Nowadays you ain't shit without your puentes Something like it's gangbang, vatos get it BANG BANG Could of hung out with them now you callin me a insane Senta la mi cado, senta mi conmigo Make way, for the the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilinguals hoe! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo, baby! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilingual... Some of that old Latin funk, knowhatI'msayin? [Sen Dog] (What's up homey? Don't you know me?) Si mon (Ain't you the brother of the mas pingo?) Straight up And I'm down with La Raza Kid Frost got my back, BOO-YAA! in la casa Cause everyday things get a little crazier As I step to the microphone area First I claim my city, pudo los angeles [an-heles] Yeah (you know homes) that's where the calles is Vato wouldn't know me, along with the heinas Catchin all them slippin, for they such a one-timer So when you see me at the party or the baile Before I got here I was gaffled in the calle Troop like a vacho who said I was baracho Had an attitude, tried to play me macho Just relax, calmado mijo Sen Dog with the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual... funky baby! Yeah, I'd like to send peace, to my homeboy B-Real Mellow Man Ace, Kid Frost, Ralph M the Mexican And we're out |
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| 5. |
| 4:51 |
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(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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| 6. |
| 3:23 |
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Intro: Sen Dog Yeah Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins Cypress Hill joint. Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up... ...so get it on kid! Verse One: Erick Sermon Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte Quicker done than O.J., hey I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time? And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill Huh, I go on with my bad self I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes Never walk through the crowd sluggish I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON I gets real determined And one for the trouble, and two for the bass I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace And if you don't know, y'all better recognize I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed Verse Two: B-Real Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill With chips and clips and tons of blue steel So who wants to be the first nigga to die? Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini You get thrown sent home in a coffin Punk stuff don't make it back, very often I got Erick to take care of the Sermon Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin Bustin open the doors to the temple Takin you to the dark side of your mental Chorus: B-Real Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys Throw your hands in the air Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys Throw your hands in the air Chorus Verse Three: Redman I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy finger up on the pen, be like "He the bomb, dicky!" These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt* Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest individual, to put criminal in diapers With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad! With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of Chorus Verse Four: MC Eiht Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me Keep your hands on your hood, you get got The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock You wish you could hang, like I hang Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you Ain't no poppin, no stoppin Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress Chorus Chorus Outro: Sen Dog Aight, for everybody All our peeps out on the corners All the alleyways For all our decesed Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets Nineteen ninety-five Soul Assassins in your mind |
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