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| from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2001) | |||||
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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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4:53 |
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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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4:53 |
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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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4:51 |
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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2002)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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4:51 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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| from Cypress Hill - The Essential Cypress Hill (2014) | |||||
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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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6:10 |
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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2002)
(chorus)
So you wanna be a rock superstar? And live large A big house. Five cars,the rent charged. Comin' up in the world. Don't trust nobody got to look over your shoulder constantly I remember the days when I was a young kid growing up Looking in the mirror, dreaming about blowin' up The rock crowds. Make money. Chill with the honeys. Sign autographs and whatever the people want from me. shits funny how impossible dreams manifest And the games that be comin' with it Nevertheless, you got to go for the gusto But you don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears and Losin' some of your peers. And losin' some of yourself to the years past, gone by Hopefully it don't manifest for the wrong guy Egomaniac and the brainiac don't know how to act shits deep 48 track studio gangsta mack sign the deal emmcees make a mil but never will 'Til he crosses over, still Fillin' your head with fantasies Come with me Show the sacrifice it takes to make the cheese You wanna be a rock superstar in the biz And take shit from people who don't know what it is I wish it was all fun and games But the price of fame is high And some can't pay the way Feel trapped in What you rappin' about? Tell me what happened when you lost clout? The route you took started collapsing No fans. No fame. No respect. No change. No women and Everybody shits on your name. You ever have big dreams? Or makin' big cream? Big shot, heavy hitter on the mainstream You wanna look trendy in the Bentley Be a star band, never act friendly. You wanna have big fame Let me explain what happens to these stars and their big brains First they get played like all damn day Long as you sell everything will be ok Then you get dissed by the media and fans Things never stay the same way they began I heard that some never get fooled to the fullest That's why fools end up dining on a bullet Think everything's fine in the big time See me in my Lex with the chrome ray shine So you roll far and live large It ain't all that goes with being a rock star! My own son don't know me I'm chillin' in a hotel room, lonely But I thank God I'm with my homies But sometimes I wish I was back home But only no radio or video's gonna show me no love They're phony Got to hit the road solely so the record gets pushed by Sony I'm in the middle like Monie And the press say that my own people disown me The best way back to keep your head straight Never inflate the cranium They're too worried about them honeys at the Palladium Who just wanna cling on, swing on, and so on Go on fall off - the ho's fall off To the next rock superstar with no shame Give him a year and they'll be right out the game The same as the last one who came before him Gained fame started getting' ignored I warned him Asured him this ain't easy Take it from the weazy Sleazy people want to be so cheesy They're fucking evil |
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| from Cypress Hill - Live At The Fillmore [live] (2000) | |||||
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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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3:30 |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
One little two little three little putos
Tried to jack me they got the boot-o Taking no shit when push comes to shove 'Cause the niggas showed me no love Step back punk 'cause I'm a Latino What I bring you is the hardcore lingo Funky, but ya don't understand Now I gotta stand with the Glock in my hand No scope And there's no hope 'Cause I'm dishin' Out my .45 slug and it ain't missin' Here it comes hissin' Here it comes hummin' at ya Now the slug is comin' at ya One little two little three hoodlums Gotta hit the ground 'cause here the slug comes What do you know, click clack goes the gun Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run Cuando entro, loonie es el fuerte Speakin' to the gente 'Cause I'm insane in the mente Movin' em back, click-click goes the gun Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run It's no fun When I got to break you off some Of the psycobeta beatdown, boy you get done Serio Here we go Off for the muchacho Come if you really want some of the chingazo Me caso you don't hear this little lazo Cypress Hill, breaking you off a pedazo Humming at ya Don't make me come gatt ya Punk 'cause I still will be comin' at ya One little two little three hoodlums Gotta hit the ground 'cause here the slug comes What do you know, click clack goes the gun Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run When I come in, kickin' with a vengeance Swift of the engines Coming like the three little indians Stompin' around on the ground on the plains 'Cause a nigga like me is goin' insane In the brain So I gotta maintain My direction What I mighta gained Without my protection Not a damn thing So when I come just bring That new style, break ya off like a chicken wing Buckooock!! So you can just suck my cock Like a fat blunt, stoned is the way of the walk When I'm peepin' Checkin' out the punk-ass creepin' I let the dogs loose then I let the dogs sick 'em Graaah! Nigga don't make me catch ya Punk 'cause I still will be comin' at ya One little two little three hoodlums Gotta hit the ground 'cause here the slug comes What do you know, click clack goes the gun Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run |
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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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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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3:28 |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
A to the motherfuckin K homeboy
A to the motherfuckin K (to the what?) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K One, life had begun for the ruffneck kid who was gonna put niggaz in check EIGHTEEN, G, for the green OBSCENE, and it's for the time being I'm pickin nine, hell I'm out to get mine and pick two homies, three com-bine Next thing you know, jump in the six-fo' Get out, cock the hammer, then kick down the do' A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (A to the K!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (motherfuckin K?!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (A to the K!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A TO THE MOTHERFUCKIN K Couple niggaz from the Eastside, headed EastBOUND Lookin for a pound, to haul around town Here comes a clown, I gotta hold my ground Hear the slug comin, when it come you fall down BUCKDOWN, dead sound, that's what you found That's what you get when you fuck the BROWN DOG, Sen is comin, to the mound La Vida from Cypress, rips your compound Shit gets deep, eight niggaz on the ground What do you know? What - go ah-round come around! Six for the pig, and his punk hound Hail to the king pig, or you get CROWNED Or better yet, I'll roll you up like a fat J A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (A to the K!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (motherfuckin K?!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (A to the K!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A TO THE MOTHERFUCKIN K It's gonna be on.. it's gonna be on.. (It's gonna be on.. GOIN ON!) It's gonna be on.. it's gonna be on.. (It's gonna be on.. GOIN ON!) It's gonna be on.. it's gonna be on.. (It's gonna be on.. GOIN ON!) Gimme that WEED fool and all your loot too I got a nigga in the back and the blunt for your crew Loaded and cocked for any hardrock If you're takin my weed, I'm takin over your spot Keep your face down as I take your pound Don't let me see nobody get up, just hug the ground (STAY STILL) And don't make a sound as I get out the door, headed Eastbound But, why did the fool try to act brave? (act brave) Clip from the nine equals six to the grave A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (A to the K!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (motherfuckin K?!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A to the motherfuckin K (A to the K!) A to the motherfuckin K homeboy A TO THE MOTHERFUCKIN K |
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| from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill / Black Sunday / III (Temples Of Boom) [box] (2002) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday / III Temples Of Boom [box] (2004) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - The Essential Cypress Hill (2014) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Live At The Fillmore [live] (2000) | |||||
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3:55 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders [Explicit Version] (2001)
(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)) 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 ("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)) 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 (scratching to fade) |
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3:54 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders [Explicit Version] (2001)
(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)) 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 ("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)) 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 (scratching to fade) |
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3:42 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
[Intro] * "Say what?" scratched repeatedly * [Sen Dog] I be that, short-temper, hostile rhyme bringer Lifestyle gone wild, similar to rock singers Check me on the big screen, livin' out my dreams Cypress, Assassins, SX, latin thug thing Fools think they get bad, I ain't really with that Flavour of the month, bro, (?) try to dispatch Always got the good badge, take it to the head Got me wasted like Jerry from the Grateful Dead Don't trip, get a grip, be strong and don't fake it Or else you get beat down, an' stripped butt-naked I just kick the lyric, straight from the spirit You can tell I got soul first time as you hear it Chorus - Sen Dog and B-Real (repeat 2x) Welcome to the show, all come inside You can hear proper sound when it's Amplified You wanna party with the best and say "fuck the rest" 'Cos we take away ya stress and never settle for less [B-Real] When you deal with the Hill, keep your mouth still If you rely on your skill then rely on your steel If you have no ideal, or any thoughts to feel What you sought was real, to give 'em slots to fill Busters stop to deal But I face them, quicker than takin' a box of pills Now you gots to chill Get cops and sheilds, steady, hark the (?) If they're lookin' for prey, ready to stalk and kill As I lock the wheel, don't you mock the drill 'Cos I'll cock my steel, make you drop and spill Got no mercy unless you talk to deal Quit talk and kneel, you won't top my will, bitch! Chorus (repeat 2x) * "Say what?" scratched some more* [Sen Dog] Ain't no-body better, on that you can bet (CY-PRESS!) Wanna see a dope show? Put your money on my set Real emcees and real DJs Real South-siders from the heart of LA Now, back in the day we had big sucess And it's like that now and we won't settle for less You can beat the LB from the new latin lingo Nowadays you nothin', without a hit single Time to get loco, and put bodies in motion Hit the stage in a rage, and start up a commotion No I ain't jokin, see my mic smokin'? I slam it like the art and make sure it's broken Chorus (repeat 2x) *scratching to fade* |
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| from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders/Til Death Do Us Part [box] (2011) | |||||
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3:50 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
You ready holmie?
Yup. My first mission runnin’ through the hood to smoke jack With memories poppin’ in my head recall that Late night creepin’ through the alley with six deuce Strapped up everybody focused no mixed views A sawed off pumped in my hand with two shells The other four holmies on the scene with cocktails One nigga lookin’ for popos and foes hell Someone lookin’ through windows the door bells Goes off followed by the punk you gas bomb Adrenaline pumped up still I remain calm House lit up you could see it for eight blocks Runnin’ through the hood run in front of the fade cops The game chase but they couldn’t cover the streets up Rolled out ran into the spot to meet up Strapped down covered up the tracks and back home Laid low earned me a stripe perfect no Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah I’ll hit your block up better lock up Fuck the gang and shit don’t stop uh A mad dog with a bob in the reagle Go into mode and just kill all your people Coast to coast ain’t a nigga more evil Now made me act a lot and call Sen Diesel Rock the block with the M one six .44 mag like a east war fit This here granadilla break you off right quick Be prayin’ up to Jesus and all that shit Uh niggas be jackin’ when they see my bucket Roll down they block they hide and say fuck it Come back in form of an assassin Three hundred yards with the infrared action Troop is the layer black Doc Holiday Cuancho raider the modern day huh Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah, now shooting up your town. Them bad ass assassins, boy. Thought you knew. Check this out, you better be packin’, fool. Hyeah. I manned all missions when I was a youth so thoughtless G ride no fingerprints it’s spotless Six bows hittin’ all the Gs and we got this Rag top down like a stripper that’s topless See me hittin’ the corner you meltdown Slugs fly thugs die moment ya fell down Somebody’s screamin’ you hangin’ the hell down I’m certified nigga when you’re sittin’ there spellbound No thoughts barkin’ just hearin’ the hellhounds Burn you with the heaters spittin’ out twelve rounds It’s life in the hood no escapin’ the gunplay Buy one day I’m out gotta figure out some way Rats in the park all scatter when guns spray Got you locked in now where do the slugs stray I found ways out but the street be one way Got a dark mind no thoughts blacker than Sunday Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots |
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3:50 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
You ready holmie?
Yup. My first mission runnin’ through the hood to smoke jack With memories poppin’ in my head recall that Late night creepin’ through the alley with six deuce Strapped up everybody focused no mixed views A sawed off pumped in my hand with two shells The other four holmies on the scene with cocktails One nigga lookin’ for popos and foes hell Someone lookin’ through windows the door bells Goes off followed by the punk you gas bomb Adrenaline pumped up still I remain calm House lit up you could see it for eight blocks Runnin’ through the hood run in front of the fade cops The game chase but they couldn’t cover the streets up Rolled out ran into the spot to meet up Strapped down covered up the tracks and back home Laid low earned me a stripe perfect no Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah I’ll hit your block up better lock up Fuck the gang and shit don’t stop uh A mad dog with a bob in the reagle Go into mode and just kill all your people Coast to coast ain’t a nigga more evil Now made me act a lot and call Sen Diesel Rock the block with the M one six .44 mag like a east war fit This here granadilla break you off right quick Be prayin’ up to Jesus and all that shit Uh niggas be jackin’ when they see my bucket Roll down they block they hide and say fuck it Come back in form of an assassin Three hundred yards with the infrared action Troop is the layer black Doc Holiday Cuancho raider the modern day huh Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots Yeah, now shooting up your town. Them bad ass assassins, boy. Thought you knew. Check this out, you better be packin’, fool. Hyeah. I manned all missions when I was a youth so thoughtless G ride no fingerprints it’s spotless Six bows hittin’ all the Gs and we got this Rag top down like a stripper that’s topless See me hittin’ the corner you meltdown Slugs fly thugs die moment ya fell down Somebody’s screamin’ you hangin’ the hell down I’m certified nigga when you’re sittin’ there spellbound No thoughts barkin’ just hearin’ the hellhounds Burn you with the heaters spittin’ out twelve rounds It’s life in the hood no escapin’ the gunplay Buy one day I’m out gotta figure out some way Rats in the park all scatter when guns spray Got you locked in now where do the slugs stray I found ways out but the street be one way Got a dark mind no thoughts blacker than Sunday Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Soot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the hip-hop Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the head nod Shoot ‘em up Bang bang Another body dropped You can’t stop the gunshots |
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| from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders/Til Death Do Us Part [box] (2011) | |||||
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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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4:04 |
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from Cypress Hill - Armada Latina (Feat. Pitbull and Marc Anthony) [single] (2010)
Ay Caribe tierra de mi gente hermosa
(Armada Latina) Cielo Sol, me acompanan donde quiera Hermanito la lucha recien empieza (Es mala por la gana) Yo naci con sangre taina, yo naci Came out the other man Southern land Didn't have another hand Never had another plan I'm different to the mother land Some will get a summer tan It's hotter than a summer jam Live for today Cause you'll never gettin another chance I ain't trippin off the he say and she say Cause we say **** And pass me a cuba libre That's what we want Don't front I could see ya but You don't want to see the cold heap up front How we blow it up We came to blow it up, hit the spot So we're done Representin' in, blowin up That's how we show the love That's how we pass up all this **** that We know gon' come It's like the soldier's run is done when the wars won [chorus] Latino hasta la muerte Chicos they working hard Bout the noise, Suerte Gracias a Dios, Thank God Little Cuban from Miami coulda took that coke Marinero pasero con clinicas Santeros con muera Que dicen que pueden cura la abuela Ya'll like scarface, I'm more like sosa Cypress hill pretty flaco It's our culture From cali to the crib, crib Me in miami Thank god I'm doin music If not I'd be tying families I'm not a asshole(oh no) About my cash flow Let me take this **** And send this letter off to Castro Ha, ha, ha Dale, come mierda. [chorus] We way to hot Always comin up with something clever A costa lostra Cypress hill maca fera Feelin fancy in the hip throne, guayabera And we just clowning On what we call some, money-lera Call me sammy Wild child from the isles I can go forever like an old fashioned country mouse Stilo be guajiro Latino is the lingo I'm straight cuban-ichi I bang Pina del Rio Lockin up this function Just like Benny More Go ahead and play the congas And I'm gonna rap over it Ya I'm a fool I'm outta here Yes sir I gotta go Get me some Chiva's Regal And slap me some dominos [chorus] |
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4:04 |
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from Cypress Hill - Rise Up (2010)
Ay Caribe tierra de mi gente hermosa
(Armada Latina) Cielo Sol, me acompanan donde quiera Hermanito la lucha recien empieza (Es mala por la gana) Yo naci con sangre taina, yo naci Came out the other man Southern land Didn't have another hand Never had another plan I'm different to the mother land Some will get a summer tan It's hotter than a summer jam Live for today Cause you'll never gettin another chance I ain't trippin off the he say and she say Cause we say **** And pass me a cuba libre That's what we want Don't front I could see ya but You don't want to see the cold heap up front How we blow it up We came to blow it up, hit the spot So we're done Representin' in, blowin up That's how we show the love That's how we pass up all this **** that We know gon' come It's like the soldier's run is done when the wars won [chorus] Latino hasta la muerte Chicos they working hard Bout the noise, Suerte Gracias a Dios, Thank God Little Cuban from Miami coulda took that coke Marinero pasero con clinicas Santeros con muera Que dicen que pueden cura la abuela Ya'll like scarface, I'm more like sosa Cypress hill pretty flaco It's our culture From cali to the crib, crib Me in miami Thank god I'm doin music If not I'd be tying families I'm not a asshole(oh no) About my cash flow Let me take this **** And send this letter off to Castro Ha, ha, ha Dale, come mierda. [chorus] We way to hot Always comin up with something clever A costa lostra Cypress hill maca fera Feelin fancy in the hip throne, guayabera And we just clowning On what we call some, money-lera Call me sammy Wild child from the isles I can go forever like an old fashioned country mouse Stilo be guajiro Latino is the lingo I'm straight cuban-ichi I bang Pina del Rio Lockin up this function Just like Benny More Go ahead and play the congas And I'm gonna rap over it Ya I'm a fool I'm outta here Yes sir I gotta go Get me some Chiva's Regal And slap me some dominos [chorus] |
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3:27 |
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| from Cypress Hill - Rise Up (2010) | |||||
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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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| from Cypress Hill - The Essential Cypress Hill (2014) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Band of Gypsies [digital single] (2018) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Elephants on Acid (2018) | |||||
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill - Rise Up (2010)
This is fucking weed is good holmes
Fuck! You know, the first time i fuckin' blazed up I was listing to those bopo's Cypress Hill You ever heard of them holmes? Ya i heard of em They fuckin' suck Are you fuckin stupid eh? What the fuck are you talking about, those bopo's are feed man eh' I'm gonna shoot you boy Shut up (pop pop!) Ganja Ganja Ganja Ganja Bang bang Ganja Bang bang Ganja Bang bang Ganja Bang bang Ganja This is for those haters and imitators Take your medicine you won't like the flavor The taste ain't sweet we lace that beef Never forget how we play in the streets Never forget what you say in the streets If you talk too loud get laid with the heat We want that cake and j, you can't stop us Out the gate we take those dollars Get a crew while we do us some real shit Me and the dogs we rock steady pushin' the Hill shit We flip scripts like dough boys clip bricks Get money like lottery quick picks We stick with it and homie i'm quick witted Still in the game and sane we still spit it Top level, livin' like a rebel Settle down bitch while we skip that medal Remember when you motherfuckers Tried to take what's mine Nigga's left me for dead But i'll never forget (bang bang) Payback! (bang bang) Payback! (bang bang) Payback! (bang bang) I came up in the game doin' my thang for the flava Never thought game gang, bangin' on the haters They used to gangbang on the corner black came out Drop on the world was a big flame out I remember when you niggas used to front on me Everywhere I ride kept the gun on me I only used to listen to my one OG, He said get money but stay low key So its a payback, with pain in the back The whole world gettin' high When I say it on the track And I say it with a gap To hit em up with All it takes is one hit and you never forget Smoke ont he Hill Wanna kill the whole spliff Fuckin' shot we takin' the whole thing Remember we don't miss Remember when you motherfuckers Tried to take what's mine Nigga's left me for dead But i'll never forget (bang bang) Payback! (bang bang) Payback! (bang bang) Payback! (bang bang) Ganja Ganja Ganja Ganja Bang bang Ganja Bang bang Ganja Bang bang Ganja Bang bang Ganja [x2] |
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from Travis Barker - Give The Drummer Some [Deluxe Explicit Version] (2011)
Verse1
In the city lights, the night'll give me life. I hear the drums, Ima war chief gimme knife. Got kush fuck the knife just give me light. Spark it up in my grow room, pretty sight. Got a house on the hill with the pretty type, You ain't got a kush man, what a shitty life. I don't wanna hit a bowl on ya mini pipe. Tryin to hit my 8 footer, reach Diddy heights. Now Im swinging on the drums like tarzan Incorporate the weed to my bars man Sixteen of em, I been needin em, on stage screamin em Pr's Hill screamin' em They call me the Greenthumb, the serene one I laid back from the drum like a beach bum. Shit is hot as summer. Another classic number. Everybody give it up for the funky drummer. Chorus: And the beat goes on (and the beat goes on) And the beat goes on and on and on And the beat goes on (and the beat goes on) And the beat goes on Verse 2 Here come the west coasters, wylin out loco. My eyeballs bleed from the weed I been smokin. Keep walking son, I keep the song hostile Mad weaponry, I bring by the stockpile. Way too deep, my block legendary. Many MC's tried to creep and got burried. He aint come to Cypress, back with the tightest Man behind the king, we know you gon' like this. Roll with the top dog, do it like a rockstar. Stuffin em up, a double dose of hot sauce You got your ears on, and your listenin To bad motherfuckas in this here business. Handle shit right, get your stack on Anybody hating, its the fool you smash on. Gonna say last time and Im gonna jump Hit em like Blam ! Give the drummer some Chorus Shit is critical, we are the invincible. Riot starter, start riots on principle. At the pinnacle, the game is winnable Put the record on the table, guaranteed spinnable. Follow the leader, the level is going off the meter. The funk freaker, with the big drum beater. What you scared for, better prepare yourself. |
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from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders [Explicit Version] (2001)
B-Real
I lost my innocence at birth but I make no excuses for the trivial things and the pain life induces Bitches are wild, and so was I, young and stupid it's incredible, what a shitty circumstance produces them Criminals, led by the originals, high strung, motivated by the, principles some of us out - he used to think we were invincible on the corner bangin' and slangin' the high bitual Deadly rituals fill my head, nothin' spiritual Bullets filled up bodies like hands from my physical I got touched by the hot hands of bitter fools Divided and tempted snake bitten by the ridicule Frustration and hate filled my adrenaline I play doctors here's two bullets for your medicine I carry those days like a weapon close to me The memories of hot lead rippin' a hole through me (Chorus: B-Real) Son, fill your heater, how bout chase killer Rock 'em up and show you're no quitter Snakes' pit every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong You hate the songs that you pump up all day long Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong Snakes' pit, every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong Stand... B-Real So many, come and go in this lifetime that you serve Faces change, liscenses' everywhere you turn Gangsta's become blinded, visions become blurred Learned to stay alive to the real side of the curb You came along way but some still refuse to notice they turned they back on us and they tried to provoke us You ask about us, you talk trash about us walk fast around us, but my block fast allowed us Don't try to crowd us nigga, we'll smack you up Look around and see who's willin' to back you up You're in a ghost town and home alone like Macaulay nigga don't say my name nigga, don't even think of me Fire start spittin' from my grill piece, ya scorched up, touched up I'm the C4 that blew up your porch I spit venom quicker than the punch on your Porsche Venom so deadly I'll make your fuckin' life divorce ya Ask for Alamoney, bitches, you all phoney I'll make you sing the blues like you're Paulpau Coloney Go ask Moley, you in the middle of shit And anything you say I'll be known the shit The force drops hits a ball, makin' me die of laughter Cause I know what these son-of-a-bitches are after Your mind and soul, if your blind and cold then your true sign is shown, then your fuckin' mind is blown (Chorus: B-Real) Son, fill your heater, how bout chase killer Rock 'em up and show you're no quitter Snakes' pit every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong You hate the songs that you pump up all day long Hated on, but we're still standin' strong Snakes' pit, every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong Stand... |
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from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders [Explicit Version] (2001)
B-Real
I lost my innocence at birth but I make no excuses for the trivial things and the pain life induces Bitches are wild, and so was I, young and stupid it's incredible, what a shitty circumstance produces them Criminals, led by the originals, high strung, motivated by the, principles some of us out - he used to think we were invincible on the corner bangin' and slangin' the high bitual Deadly rituals fill my head, nothin' spiritual Bullets filled up bodies like hands from my physical I got touched by the hot hands of bitter fools Divided and tempted snake bitten by the ridicule Frustration and hate filled my adrenaline I play doctors here's two bullets for your medicine I carry those days like a weapon close to me The memories of hot lead rippin' a hole through me (Chorus: B-Real) Son, fill your heater, how bout chase killer Rock 'em up and show you're no quitter Snakes' pit every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong You hate the songs that you pump up all day long Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong Snakes' pit, every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong Stand... B-Real So many, come and go in this lifetime that you serve Faces change, liscenses' everywhere you turn Gangsta's become blinded, visions become blurred Learned to stay alive to the real side of the curb You came along way but some still refuse to notice they turned they back on us and they tried to provoke us You ask about us, you talk trash about us walk fast around us, but my block fast allowed us Don't try to crowd us nigga, we'll smack you up Look around and see who's willin' to back you up You're in a ghost town and home alone like Macaulay nigga don't say my name nigga, don't even think of me Fire start spittin' from my grill piece, ya scorched up, touched up I'm the C4 that blew up your porch I spit venom quicker than the punch on your Porsche Venom so deadly I'll make your fuckin' life divorce ya Ask for Alamoney, bitches, you all phoney I'll make you sing the blues like you're Paulpau Coloney Go ask Moley, you in the middle of shit And anything you say I'll be known the shit The force drops hits a ball, makin' me die of laughter Cause I know what these son-of-a-bitches are after Your mind and soul, if your blind and cold then your true sign is shown, then your fuckin' mind is blown (Chorus: B-Real) Son, fill your heater, how bout chase killer Rock 'em up and show you're no quitter Snakes' pit every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong You hate the songs that you pump up all day long Hated on, but we're still standin' strong Snakes' pit, every ground I landed on Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong Stand... |
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| from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders/Til Death Do Us Part [box] (2011) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Elephants on Acid (2018) | |||||
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Hits From The Bong
Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Pick it, pack it, fire it up, come aloooong and take hits from the boooong Put the blunt down just for a second Don′t get me wrong it′s not a new method Inhale, Exhale - just got a ounce in the mail I like a blunt or a big fat coal But my double barrel bong is gettin me stoned I′m skill it, There′s water inside don′t spill it It smells like shit on the carpet Still it, goes down smooth when I get a clean hit Of the skunky funky smelly green shit Sing my song, puff all night long As I take Hits from the bong... Hits From The Bong y′all Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Let′s smoke that bowl, hit the bong And then take that finger off of that hole Plug it, unplug it, don′t straaaain I love you Mary Jane She never complains, when I hit Mary With that flame, I light up the cherry She′s so good to me, when I pack a fresh bowl I clean the screen Don′t get me stirred up the smoke, through the bub-bling water Is Makin′ it pure so I got ta′, take my hit and hold it Just like Chong, I hit the bowl and I reload it Get my four-footer and bring it on... As I take Hits from the bong Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Straighten your dick out... Can I get a hit? ... |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Hits From The Bong
Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Pick it, pack it, fire it up, come aloooong and take hits from the boooong Put the blunt down just for a second Don′t get me wrong it′s not a new method Inhale, Exhale - just got a ounce in the mail I like a blunt or a big fat coal But my double barrel bong is gettin me stoned I′m skill it, There′s water inside don′t spill it It smells like shit on the carpet Still it, goes down smooth when I get a clean hit Of the skunky funky smelly green shit Sing my song, puff all night long As I take Hits from the bong... Hits From The Bong y′all Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Let′s smoke that bowl, hit the bong And then take that finger off of that hole Plug it, unplug it, don′t straaaain I love you Mary Jane She never complains, when I hit Mary With that flame, I light up the cherry She′s so good to me, when I pack a fresh bowl I clean the screen Don′t get me stirred up the smoke, through the bub-bling water Is Makin′ it pure so I got ta′, take my hit and hold it Just like Chong, I hit the bowl and I reload it Get my four-footer and bring it on... As I take Hits from the bong Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit? Straighten your dick out... Can I get a hit? ... |
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| from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders/Til Death Do Us Part [box] (2011) | |||||
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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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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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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 / Black Sunday / III (Temples Of Boom) [box] (2002) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday / III Temples Of Boom [box] (2004) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - The Essential Cypress Hill (2014) | |||||
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2:59 |
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from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill (1999)
Born to get busy, born to get busy baby born to get get busy, we were born to get busy baby. I'm the stiff and I do get naughty so up the pussy when you're in the same party Yo we can do this but we can't be maxxin' your big ass is useless unless I'm taxin' This is the productin and my tribe's the cast I'm known as a musician and by trade I ask I'm no body's kid brother that means I work for this task. I went to school aqquired knowledge I'm a scholar went to college. All comes very handy when it comes to push and shovin' No I'm not a sissy, so don't ask who is he I'm Stiff the neutral brother who was born to get busy. Let us start to freaky you, and we'll amke you feel alright when you come to Cypress Hill make sure you're down with the tribe. (chorous) Cuz we're Born to get busy, born to get busy baby born to get get busy, we were born to get busy baby. Born to get busy, born to get busy baby born to get get busy, we were born to get busy baby |
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| from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill / Black Sunday / III (Temples Of Boom) [box] (2002) | |||||
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2:45 |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
This one goes out to all you punk motherfuckers out there
Yeah, eat a bowl of dick'up fools! Do ya wanna get crazy? Commin atcha in 93'! Through the car swings The fireing pins go click when I duck behind the trash bin Ran out of ammo no doubt my gatt is dry like a fuckin drought got to make my way home hit the gate and get my chrome god damn this song they got me cornered lemme just warn ya I'll pull this trigga make your family mourn'ya Boo-hoo! where ya gonna run to when I pull out the scooby do run let me break ya off some hit the floor cuz it aint no fun but here they come they must wanna get done No frontin' punk I'll break ya off somethin! 1 2 3 that coppa goes down! (break'em off some) what the fuck I'm rollin in a mack truck that's stolin guess what I'm holdin ammmo to bust my load still I'm easin on down The yellow brick road Whatta ya know? A pig in a plain brown wrapper He wanna bring me down I'll hit that corna Lemme just warn ya I'll bring ya ass down make ya family mourn ya 21 gun saloot trying to take my loot don't make me shoot I'll hit my blunt and pass you a load And punk let me break ya of something (break em' off some) I got to roll with the self control In the green tank when the shit unfolds hold up I got it sewn up me and my niggas Are about to blow up Got the pigs on my tail What they get is the hollow point shell Caught in the sail Servin my sentence Got my apprentice In the hood But the nigga is senseless Out on parol Now the nigga has turned to my fold Now the punk gotta go That punk got shady Woudn't repay me Let the punk know that ya still can't fade me Maybe the fucker would stop But nuthin would stop me from havin to break'em off something On to the next spot kid (break'em off some) We ain't havin it yall Ya know what I'm talkin bout I'm about to break your ass of some'n! Commin from a whamm-o (break'em off some...) |
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from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill (1999)
Break it up Cypress Hill, break it up Cypress, break it up Cypress Hill Cypress Hill! (repeat 13X to fade) |
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| from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill / Black Sunday / III (Temples Of Boom) [box] (2002) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill / Black Sunday / III (Temples Of Boom) [box] (2002) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday / III Temples Of Boom [box] (2004) | |||||
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4:03 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[B-Real]
WELLLLLLLLLLLLLL... here's a little story, I got to tell About a thugged out homey, I know so well It started way back, when I was a teen In the hood, on the corner, slangin dope to fiends Had the little stash that could serve your need You can do what you want but I got weed for me Ridin for my fam, tryin to hit a grand CRASH unit on my ass, now I'm in demand One lone-ly fami-ly I be All in the hood, I got no-bo-dy The sun is beatin down on my red dark hat Pigs are roamin through the alley so I gotta toss my gat Forgot about the sack, lookin for a place to hide If they ask me for my name - fuck 'em, I'ma lie!" [Chorus] One O.G. gangsta I be Busted in the hood, I got no more weed Pigs are comin down on my gangsta stash When they caught me with the weed, and the dope and hash [B-Real] He said a little somethin, I wasn't so impressed No more runnin homey, now you're under arrest The sack was in my hand, felt like a sack of bricks I swore he couldn't see it when I threw it in my whip He said he wanted some, I said I don't have none Found it in the sun on the floor next to my gun Next thing I saw was the gun to my head Now the lead will make me dead, and yo this is what he said [Sen Dog] My name is Sgt. Slacker with a license to kill (uh-huh) I think you know what time it is, it's time to get real (yea) Now what do we have here? A banger and his peers [B-Real] He cuffed my hand you understand he threatened me with tears Sorry motherfucker had his gun out with a grin You think the story's over but it's ready to begin [Chorus] [Sen Dog] Now I got your crack and most of your crew You got a couple choices of what you can do Better make the right decision if you know what I mean You can do some time, or fork over your green [B-Real] I said I got no green he started lookin at me harder I said I don't have nothin you can go fuck your daughter (WHAT?) He hit me with the fist, he hit me with the gat He put the night stick to my back, soooooooooooooo I think I'm done, the pig's got my gun It isn't lookin good, I got ink on my thumb Another pig walked in, said he's playin games He gave another look at me, found out my false name [Chorus] [B-Real] Sittin there pissed as I dwell in my cell The place smells like shit, in the County Jail Homey lookin at me like he seen me before He started throwin up a set, then he spit on the floor I think ay-yeah yo, I know this kid It's the same motherfucker cocktailed my crib This dude said - get ready - pulled a shank on me I said c'mon homey you a bit too sloppy Fool tried to stab me, socked him in the eye The guards yelled, "Give it up!" and let two fly The guards said down and we hit the floor If you make a move after you won't move no more He said I think you once again best protect ya neck I said eat a dick from me you don't get respect I said you wanna come with it, any time and place And I'll leave you like Pacino with a Scar-on-ya-face They put him in the hole, and all the bullshit stopped But when his boy had beef, yeah he got dropped P.D. had no witness, D.A. dropped the load I got probation for the gun and the dope, case closed [Chorus - 2X] |
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4:03 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[B-Real]
WELLLLLLLLLLLLLL... here's a little story, I got to tell About a thugged out homey, I know so well It started way back, when I was a teen In the hood, on the corner, slangin dope to fiends Had the little stash that could serve your need You can do what you want but I got weed for me Ridin for my fam, tryin to hit a grand CRASH unit on my ass, now I'm in demand One lone-ly fami-ly I be All in the hood, I got no-bo-dy The sun is beatin down on my red dark hat Pigs are roamin through the alley so I gotta toss my gat Forgot about the sack, lookin for a place to hide If they ask me for my name - fuck 'em, I'ma lie!" [Chorus] One O.G. gangsta I be Busted in the hood, I got no more weed Pigs are comin down on my gangsta stash When they caught me with the weed, and the dope and hash [B-Real] He said a little somethin, I wasn't so impressed No more runnin homey, now you're under arrest The sack was in my hand, felt like a sack of bricks I swore he couldn't see it when I threw it in my whip He said he wanted some, I said I don't have none Found it in the sun on the floor next to my gun Next thing I saw was the gun to my head Now the lead will make me dead, and yo this is what he said [Sen Dog] My name is Sgt. Slacker with a license to kill (uh-huh) I think you know what time it is, it's time to get real (yea) Now what do we have here? A banger and his peers [B-Real] He cuffed my hand you understand he threatened me with tears Sorry motherfucker had his gun out with a grin You think the story's over but it's ready to begin [Chorus] [Sen Dog] Now I got your crack and most of your crew You got a couple choices of what you can do Better make the right decision if you know what I mean You can do some time, or fork over your green [B-Real] I said I got no green he started lookin at me harder I said I don't have nothin you can go fuck your daughter (WHAT?) He hit me with the fist, he hit me with the gat He put the night stick to my back, soooooooooooooo I think I'm done, the pig's got my gun It isn't lookin good, I got ink on my thumb Another pig walked in, said he's playin games He gave another look at me, found out my false name [Chorus] [B-Real] Sittin there pissed as I dwell in my cell The place smells like shit, in the County Jail Homey lookin at me like he seen me before He started throwin up a set, then he spit on the floor I think ay-yeah yo, I know this kid It's the same motherfucker cocktailed my crib This dude said - get ready - pulled a shank on me I said c'mon homey you a bit too sloppy Fool tried to stab me, socked him in the eye The guards yelled, "Give it up!" and let two fly The guards said down and we hit the floor If you make a move after you won't move no more He said I think you once again best protect ya neck I said eat a dick from me you don't get respect I said you wanna come with it, any time and place And I'll leave you like Pacino with a Scar-on-ya-face They put him in the hole, and all the bullshit stopped But when his boy had beef, yeah he got dropped P.D. had no witness, D.A. dropped the load I got probation for the gun and the dope, case closed [Chorus - 2X] |
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| from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders/Til Death Do Us Part [box] (2011) | |||||
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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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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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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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3:23 |
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| from Cypress Hill, Rusko - Cypress X Rusko 01 [ep] (2012) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Live At The Fillmore [live] (2000) | |||||
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4:08 |
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from Cypress Hill - Rise Up (2010)
[feat. Mike Shinoda]
[B-Real]?I was an outcast, outsider,?Trouble maker?A lost soul, outta control,?In danger?Didn't have a care in the world?My feeling were numb?Never showing emotion?Is easy for some?I don't know how it happened?How I got to this point?But I needed a way out?I was stuck in a void?I needed another path or I'd self destruct?I was down on my luck?My head was so f-cked!?A menace rollin' the streets is what I was?Holdin' my heat and rollin' with the serious thugs?You couldn't tell me a thing,?I was like my brother,?Words went in one ear and out the other?Slangin' and bangin',?With a chip on my shoulder?An insane, hit the brain?Certified street soldier?So close to the grave,?You at an early age,?Can't tell you the price I've paid??[Mike Shinoda - Chorus]?Oh the sky overhead,?Is like a canvas of grey?I dunno how much time,?I'm begginin' to save?From the first spring to light?To the end of the day?I'm just livin', my life?'Till they come carry me away??[Sen Dog]?I've been there in LA nights?In the block where I came up?My pops used to hate?When we hanged with them bangers?Guess he knew one day that we'll become us?That's just how it is when you live where we come from?"Fight, don't run"?Is the motto we live by?Get 'em on the ground?And stomp a mind about ten times?Sure we was just kids back then?I had no remorse for what we did back then?Six of us, one call, we'd all pack in?Hit the strip, and go and get the sh-t crack in?Gun wars, and drug deals, I seen 'em happen?When I started losin' home boys I wasn't laughin'?I looked all around and seen,?None of 'em there?That's when I figured out,?That nobody cared?If we lived or die,?We'll just get high and ride?And I wasn't gonna let this happen one more time??[Chorus]??[B-Real]?My mother was there for me?Every step of the way?She did'nt judge me?She told me I'd win some day?When I was at my lowest?When I had no focus?She pulled me out the gutter?Said I wasn't hopeless?Every night she prayed for me?I was out on the street?Chillin' on the corner with the hand on my heat?Eyes open wide for the pigs and foes?It's an every day hazard when you hustle for doe?So many nights I didn't come home,?She thought the worst?Maybe somebody shot me down?Without any remorse?Maybe I hurt somebody and I was stuck in a cell?Well I regret all those time that I put her through hell?When I reflect back on those days, my heart aches?And everybody I lost or let down,?I wish I could take it all back?And make it better but I can't,?So I try to make amends?And be there, through thick and thin??[Chorus]??[Mike Shinoda]?Come carry me away?Come carry me away?Come carry me away?Come carry me away?[End] |
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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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3:24 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders [Explicit Version] (2001)
B-Real
I slay punks who don't know their own identity You spit my name and use it like an obscenity You got more skulls in your closet than a Kennedy You on my nuts so you better hold tenderly I can tell you what's crackin' and done get splitten You corrosin' on the floor, shaken and snake bitten You in a cold sweat like James of the names you knew Don't mean shit to me and you ain't got a clue of what's about to happen - interaction Two worlds collide - one survives the reaction Hold tight, keep yourself together cause we're about to storm you like shitty weather (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) (B-Real) I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe (Sen Dog) Set yourself up for catastrophe and that's the only way that is has to be The whole damn world is mad at me But I don't give a damn, I'm just glad to be All pain and the fame a society, actuality, it's a formality How can I say: "You ain't shit to me" Without you takin' it personally Sen Dog Ten, proper years of bringin' funk I, still count mine, it's hella gettin' over the hump I got the loads on the skull, I got my hand on the pump Still got the boss to go nutty on you punks (yeah!) I don't wanna be the King of the Sing Just a Soul Assassin for the Cypress Team I rhyme and sing and make bitches scream They love that old South Side gangsta lean Call the Psycobeta, I guess you're crackin' Turn into Mad Dog when I start rappin' Look at hostile - ah, damn wild Shake you up in a hurry from the voodoo child Don't get caught up hangin' on the mortar Hold on and I'll turn y'all punks all wild (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) (B-Real) I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe (Sen Dog) Set yourself up for catastrophe and that's the only way that is has to be The whole damn world is mad at me But I don't give a damn, I'm just glad to be All pain and the fame a society, actuality, it's a formality How can I say: "You ain't shit to me" Without you takin' it personally 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, come on! B-Real I'm tired of whack rappers and fame seekers Like you know the deal to be in my same sneakers I don't mind exposin' you hollow bitches I got the medicine over the swallow bitches You play roles like an actor but get no oscar Gun spray, gunned away, cut from the roster You're just an imposter, you lost your composure Respect your exposure to bring you to your closure But you're in denial and still remain vile In a place within last style and senseless wild I take you down the long trail you failed to keep up That's when you get introduced to the street sweeper (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) (B-Real) I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself UP FOR CATASTROPHE!!! (Sen Dog) Set yourself up for catastrophe and that's the only way that is has to be The whole damn world is mad at me But I don't give a damn, I'm just glad to be All pain and the fame a society, actuality, it's a formality How can I say: "You ain't shit to me" WITHOUT YOU TAKIN' IT PERSONALLY... |
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3:24 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders [Explicit Version] (2001)
B-Real
I slay punks who don't know their own identity You spit my name and use it like an obscenity You got more skulls in your closet than a Kennedy You on my nuts so you better hold tenderly I can tell you what's crackin' and done get splitten You corrosin' on the floor, shaken and snake bitten You in a cold sweat like James of the names you knew Don't mean shit to me and you ain't got a clue of what's about to happen - interaction Two worlds collide - one survives the reaction Hold tight, keep yourself together cause we're about to storm you like shitty weather (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) (B-Real) I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe (Sen Dog) Set yourself up for catastrophe and that's the only way that is has to be The whole damn world is mad at me But I don't give a damn, I'm just glad to be All pain and the fame a society, actuality, it's a formality How can I say: "You ain't shit to me" Without you takin' it personally Sen Dog Ten, proper years of bringin' funk I, still count mine, it's hella gettin' over the hump I got the loads on the skull, I got my hand on the pump Still got the boss to go nutty on you punks (yeah!) I don't wanna be the King of the Sing Just a Soul Assassin for the Cypress Team I rhyme and sing and make bitches scream They love that old South Side gangsta lean Call the Psycobeta, I guess you're crackin' Turn into Mad Dog when I start rappin' Look at hostile - ah, damn wild Shake you up in a hurry from the voodoo child Don't get caught up hangin' on the mortar Hold on and I'll turn y'all punks all wild (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) (B-Real) I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe (Sen Dog) Set yourself up for catastrophe and that's the only way that is has to be The whole damn world is mad at me But I don't give a damn, I'm just glad to be All pain and the fame a society, actuality, it's a formality How can I say: "You ain't shit to me" Without you takin' it personally 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, come on! B-Real I'm tired of whack rappers and fame seekers Like you know the deal to be in my same sneakers I don't mind exposin' you hollow bitches I got the medicine over the swallow bitches You play roles like an actor but get no oscar Gun spray, gunned away, cut from the roster You're just an imposter, you lost your composure Respect your exposure to bring you to your closure But you're in denial and still remain vile In a place within last style and senseless wild I take you down the long trail you failed to keep up That's when you get introduced to the street sweeper (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) (B-Real) I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself up for catastrophe I can see what you see what you asked for it has to be You set yourself UP FOR CATASTROPHE!!! (Sen Dog) Set yourself up for catastrophe and that's the only way that is has to be The whole damn world is mad at me But I don't give a damn, I'm just glad to be All pain and the fame a society, actuality, it's a formality How can I say: "You ain't shit to me" WITHOUT YOU TAKIN' IT PERSONALLY... |
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| from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders/Til Death Do Us Part [box] (2011) | |||||
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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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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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4:01 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
[Sen Dog] Bout to mash these niggaz man Don't come in my backyard motherfucker Hahaha, B-Real and the DOG, motherfucker! Ha! Yeah Here we go y'all, that's the nigga head dog Lunatic smokin loops, loose in your sector Got my eye on em, on the apparatus like a bone to a dog, yea you know I gotta have it Anywhere you get it shit, and I'ma grab it Turn around stares to your face and I jab it Drop you, like one of those ill bad habits Hunt you, like a hillbilly huntin a rabbit Cuttin niggaz up like Muggs on the wheels for reals, penetentiary steel Pull heads to bed from the choke of a headlock Fadin baldheads to perms, even dreadlocks BWOY, rudebwoy with me style I can get foul or wild, or just cool for a while Chorus: B-Real, Sen Dog (Checkmate fool!) Hang em high Got the live shit, bang em whenever you/he wanna try Shoot to thrill, be at the Hill, I/we take em all (Checkmate fool!) Wherever the pawns fall * repeat 2X * [B-Real] Look look punk, every way you get shook To the pawn, takin out the rook, off of the book Lights get tooken, taken you for Satan You can't breathe, no need to look up and see me The last hope, when you mellow you call whoever For the hype shit, you call the Hill, put it together Runnin this game, bringin the same, raw shit Over the hills, through the city we come equipped to the letter, keepin your temperature down low What I reveal, the good shit to heal all souls Makin you roll late night, you trippin, my game's tight To the new shit I bring, never the same hype so PUSH THAT SHIT OFF, get up, don't let off No matter how much blood you spit up You could never be, fuckin with Greenthumb The outcome's specific, you spliff it, collapsed lung We hit hard, breakin your guard, you can't tell when the bells ring, bustin your shell, the pawn fell Chorus (Peek-a-Boo, you fuck you!) [Sen Dog] I'ma freak that funk yea slam it in the trunk I'ma kill all junk with the suicide clunk Ain't nobody came my way, talkin bout the Westside of L.A., so whatever punk-ass click you claim, you keep bumpin that shit and elevate your frame, cause I want that big-time, asshole, studio gangsta Worth a lot of shit, but that's not the main factor [B-Real] My nigga Sen's rollin again, remember when we rocked shows, battlin foes, the time's been long Strong with the styles, you ain't hear to win Like blood pourin out of the pen, the ink stains Slim chance if it gets in your brain, the hot flash got you heated with repeated attacks over the tracks Smack niggaz up, back niggaz up, hack niggaz up Jack niggaz up, hangin the wack niggaz up Snowball effect, we rollin the city limits Crushin the bitch-ass niggaz with all the gimmicks Chorus [Sen Dog] Checkmate fool! |
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| from Cypress Hill - Live At The Fillmore [live] (2000) | |||||
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4:00 |
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| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
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4:45 |
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| from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998) | |||||
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
On a chicken-hunt, huntin' for a chicken
Get paranoid when you hear my Glock clickin' Speakin' to the punk that's tweakin' With the bitch-ass styles I hit you like Deacon Jones house, cough without the bones I rolled ya up and smoked you like cones Split the seed and grow you like clones Don't start-me-up, cause I'm not the Rolling Stones But I get stoned with a little help from my friends With the (gubla), then I passed it round back to me again I can make you famous like Amos Same as the last punk, when I stuck the gatt up his anus Hear me growl: Grrra! Howl! I got the night vision just like the wise old owl I'm comin' ta fetch ya Yeah home direct ya Bury them bones Under my home and Cock the hammer! Cock the hammer, it's time for action! Cock the hammer! Cock the hammer, it's time for action! Take my weapon, step into a whole new realm And step back, as I take up the helm On the pirate ship I'm steerin' Droppin' the geran Just realize what you're hearin' The cannon sounded That's my companion: surrounded As my crew comes bounding As the captain Afro-america Whole lotta gattin' With the loc'ed out latin Busted! You're a red beard with a musket Better talk quick 'cause ya might get dusted Your gatt looks rusted, disgusted Oh look away, look away boy as I rush it Yes I know that you can't withstand it Watch that ass cause punk I'll brand it With a steel-toe, how you feel now When my boot stuck in that ass like a dildo Cry on a pillow, weeper that's willow The Hill got the skill for the static like brillo Hmmm, what you talkin' `bout punk Gimme room as I light up the boom Cock the hammer, wave the white banner Ever heard a Glock go `click' like a camera? Cock the hammer! Cock the hammer, it's time for action! Cock the hammer! Cock the hammer, it's time for action! Cock the hammer! Cock the hammer, it's time for action! Cock the hammer! Cock the hammer, it's time for action! |
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| from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill / Black Sunday / III (Temples Of Boom) [box] (2002) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday / III Temples Of Boom [box] (2004) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Live At The Fillmore [live] (2000) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Elephants on Acid (2018) | |||||
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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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| from Cypress Hill, Hidenobu Ito - Cutting funk [ep] (2007) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill, Hidenobu Ito - Cutting funk [ep] (2007) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill, Hidenobu Ito - Cutting funk [ep] (2007) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill, Hidenobu Ito - Cutting funk [ep] (2007) | |||||
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3:12 |
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from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Lady Luck, Muggs (a.k.a. Paul Cane))
[Muggs (Paul Cane)] Dont get nuthin confused about me, this nigga hea throw clips You think you could hold three, nigga hea go six I bring +Heat+ like Deniro flix, my team lock and load And rock and roll like Aerosmith Fuck cops I got Cochran Shapiro chips One point five in ice in each earlobe shit Fuck who you and your man go get Me and cat take +Pussy's+ on boat rides on some Soprano shit Move wit troops in cougar coupes Like beeno and notes for a G a piece, they'll remove your roof Ya better spread when the ruger shoot Paul Cane got fire, everything ya heard on Clue was the truth It's like who want what what ever Tou and your man play tough ya gon get plucked together At gun point gettin stuck together Black Benz tinted out, buggy headlights stuck together [Chorus 2X: Lady Luck + Muggs (Paul Cane)] We aint jokin no more (This ain't a game to us) Got a lot of hungry niggas that came wit us (We dangerous) Cock back aim and bust (Lady Luck, Paul Cane, who could bang wit us) [Lady Luck] They said I rap like a man, and act like a man So when it come to war she gon clap like a man Short arrogant wit this gat up in my hand Chicks dont play cute I'm still attractin your man Rock many lands, Japan to Philly sands Luck stay ghetto like Rican dolla bands Only thing I take serious is garments and money And late periods [there she is] Screamin in a 2 by 2, too fly 2 seater Too much ice, too cold, 2 heaters Love men but got lesbian guns That love to lick off at you pussies for fun So play dumb in these dum dups Hit you where you pump cum Stick you for your lump sums We the ones you run from Till the day my lungs done for blocks I hit hard like Ronnie Lotts Lady Luck got it locked [Chorus] [Muggs (Paul Cane)] Ya talkin greasy like Paul ain't a nigga wit fire Like I aint got guns or killers for hire Got wolves that'll run through mask and arms Like point break clear the safe out and smash your moms Over 40 years old still blastin chrome Smiles never cross they face till there's cash in palm Cause they still do murders for bucks Gave em put hollow points through you then pass the burner to Luck We like a 2 G Bonnie and Clyde, back to back in beef Wit two heats a piece, mami gon' ryde Spit four, she behind me wit five Y'know Paul Cane and Lady Luck MO catch homo's and slide Before we drop the guns Wipe off the prints push the pedal through the floor And get away back to the bricks, ya don't want nothin wit us Paul Cane, Street Life, Desert Storm, we dangerous [Chorus] |
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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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| from Cypress Hill - Los Grandes exitos En Espanol (2000) | |||||
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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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| from Cypress Hill - The Essential Cypress Hill (2014) | |||||
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| from Pineapple Express (2008) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Dr. Creenthumb [single] (1999) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Dr. Creenthumb [single] (1999) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Dr. Creenthumb [single] (1999) | |||||
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