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| from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2001) | |||||
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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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4:50 |
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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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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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4:19 |
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| from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998) | |||||
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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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3:28 |
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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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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)) 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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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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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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1:20 |
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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, 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 - 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 (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 - 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 - 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 - 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 - Dr. Creenthumb [single] (1999)
(Intro: Barron Ricks)
That's right nigga, dynamic duo style, what? Green horn in a cadle style motherf**ker (Barron Ricks) Oh shit, my styles' progress like hot sex upon a firm matress But limit the techniques to get freak Now look at me, Cavarsay, Cognac, VS'll be puffin' the don-deago Macanoodle, out armadayo (B-Real) Yayo, up, ready to sell and bail, we niggas afrail (Post-dated, put 'em in the mail nigga) I'm the hill figure, deliver your body to the river (uh) How you feelin' (how you), how you livin' (how you), how you breathin' (Barron Ricks) F**k it, whatever's clever, fort and sex and def or real I got your back Which ever Squadron you attack yo I attack I got my automated Mossberg, hand on the pump ready to dump, so yo we gettin' dum-de-de-dum-dum-dum (B-Real) Dum-de-de-dum, when they hearin' the gats hum like a siren Niggas they be, barkin' and whilin' Thuggin' in stylin', holdin' the dope smilin' Yo, smooth, what you pilin' up, go make a move (Barron Ricks) Yo, path for Central Harlem where niggas be sparkin' son I beg your pardon Ese rollin', if you got it, pass it to the margin If you want it greedy, come and get it Aiyyo, we got it, Cypress, Cannibus Seeteeva, f**kin' freak of shit (B-Real) Motherf**kers refuse to loose my whole crew, don't get it confused Don't light a fuse or get bruised Like a gat I'll have to bust your ass or feel the blast of the shot glass full of jack and smokin' hash (Chorus: B-Real) (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) It be that Cypress Hill shit (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) Handle this, y'all can't f**k with this (B-Real) Back up in the mills of the Cypress Hill You catchin' a thrill, coppin' a feel, the whole steel Everybody put their blunts up in the sky Cause everybody's sparkin' the dutches and gettin' high (Barron Ricks) At 1-5-5, the city bread it, exit, got that method Yo, what y'all infected, we crashin' fords ain't no substitutions Me and B-Real want all our restitution's that means our back pays so niggas pay up Now, what the F**K!! (B-Real) I'm an addict, addicted to static and bad habits Bringin' the magic, opposite the Nina Milli Automatic War is war, a battles' a battle, the gat'll be your friend It'll be your end, it'll be your shadow (Barron Ricks) Now y'all shadowboxinists, irrational, rap new recruitin' dirty denim, timb boots, hummin', gunnin' for his competition Listen yo, we all be on that trivial don't change shit lame shit, Cypress is all about the Mary Jane shit (B-Real) No competition can handle the whole mission Bitches are wishin' me on but they won't last long Family ties are fly, do you do or die You try to escape, all the visions up in your mind (Chorus: B-Real) (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) It be that Cypress Hill shit (So can you handle this) They can't f**kin' handle this (So can you handle this) Handle this, y'all can't f**k with this |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
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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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 How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
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from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998)
Zeus: "Make certain that no stone stands
That no creature crawls I command you to let lose the last of the Titans" "It's time to strike!" [B-Real] Let the rain pour down from God above With the blood of my blade, no love, begin the flood Open the gates, let the battle begin, wherein With wind at our backs, ready for any attacks Sound the horns, prepare for war, begin the storm The flaming arrows hitting your body, keeping you warm With the uniform of my sworn enemies You raped and pillaged my city, and spread disease Feel the sword of the warrior's wrath, the path you take Can lead to the math that the master's break The clash of the titans, are you frightened of loss Fighting with the cause to free, you and yours, and God's law Look in the stars, aligned with sign and Mars Destruction, what's your function, you roll with God "Attention" 2x [B-Real] The soul of the master's elements, disaster Breaking ya faster, transmitting the broadcaster The blade swings, slashing your throat The vision's on the mission, seeking the note dropping the bomb, by remote Load up the cavalry's, no salaries, the keys The life's memories, strife bringing the thieves Cut the heads off, hide in the loft, don't even cough Or breath, pay the cost, moving your life's lost Let the spirit reunite, with your weapon, you wanna fight Hear the sound of the warriors stepping into the night The eye in the sky, looking to punish ya, never hide No cover to shelter your life, the souls begin to rise And to clash "Attention" 2x [B-Real] God's enemies, fall in upon, the knees crawling Beheading the dead souls, who runaway from their calling Behold, the white horse, remorse, never the case Every corner of the world, the battle is taking place Let the war drum set the pace, you face fire Resume, from the Temple of Boom, and seek higher thought Maybe you live, or maybe not, the blade's hot Many renegades ready for battle, die on the spot With one shot, one whole city becomes rocked The clash rages on, people remain calm Good, bad, all in the balance, you going mad You can never tell, heaven or hell, the blood shed And it's all around, you can't run, sit in the cell When the war's over, the light will shine, covering the spell Celebrate now, put the blades to rest No wickedness, only the blessed will hold down "Attention" "You creating hysteria" "Attention" 2x |
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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 Pineapple Express (2008) | |||||
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4:08 |
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| from Cypress Hill - IV [Explicit Version] (1998) | |||||
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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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| from Cypress Hill - Tequila Sunrise [single] (1998) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Tequila Sunrise [single] (1998) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Tequila Sunrise [single] (1998) | |||||
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1:08 |
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| from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004) | |||||
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1:08 |
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| from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004) | |||||
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"This sure is. I got data on crazy shit for round the corner you know
The homeboys and the brothers be slangin' this shit But anyway, (everybody must get stoned (x4)) You over there singin' some shit, talkin' 'bout Everybody must get stoned I don't know but that shit sounds good to me" [Verse 1] Hit the joint, up the bomb, take a puff Till you just can't get enough Of the sunk a punk Pick an endo, wanna take control But the primaso puff on the endo (keep puffin') Let me take it in then I let it out (let it out) One of you motherfuckers pass the barred owl Peace to the niggaz in all the Budha spots Slangin' fat bags o' weed and runnin from the cops (runnin' from them fools) I hit the leno then pass it on To the cypha' of dreadlocks gettin' stoned (All the dreadlocks lya') >From the fat joint twisted at the end 'Cos I get high with a little help from my friends (from my friends) [Chorus] Everybody must get stoned I said everybody must get stoned (Everybody must get stoned)*variations* (x4) [Verse 2] Hit the blunt of the bong, take your dope Now my head's in a cloud of smoke and no joke Called 'the uptight', motherfuckers puttin' me down 'Cos I talk about the green shit in every town (Everywhere I go) You right in front of me, I can't see ya I'm blind and faded and I get the G-rock And everything's gonna be alright When I pass that toochi from the left-hand side Niggaz is havin' a good time tonight Roll it up, hold it up, pass me the fucking light (Gimme that lighter) Indoor on the home-grown Light it up, everybody must get stoned (gotta get stoned) (Chorus-different variations) You know how we talkin' to talk We say, stoned is the way of the walk (x4) (Chorus till fade) |
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3:11 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Verse One: B-Real
Let me introduce my self I'm the one who rules the set So don't you forget Bad for ya health but ya still be tryin' ta push buttons But you ain't nothin', no frontin I bring the level up a little louder In the clubs, an' the jeeps an' the after hours Fools on the street wanna feel the funk Lookin for the 'skunk' that's what'cha want Ya betta, sit back and let the track flow Like smoke in ya lungs from puffin' on the indo Rythems upside'cha brain, can ya hang, can maintain Can ya feel the funk flowin' in ya veins Get'cha fix and ya bag of tricks In tha mix I got the stix and stones a few bricks I'm gonna hit 'em high He's gonna hit 'em low Open up ya mind so that'chu can feel the flow On, an' on till there all gone Fools be runnin' but they won't last long Chorus: I'm the freaka (8X) Verse Two: B-Real People always wanna get what you got, no matta what Can't take care of themselves in the big hunt In the quest for the crown An' the jewels, and the cheese Motherfucker please Enemies wanna plot against me with envy in they hearts But, I rip their sorry ass apart In a minute, I can take ya to the limit Temprature risen, nasal highzen Verse Three: Sen Dog Comin' back in with the lows, for the fows Fuckin' up egos, an' anybody, oppose The numba one skunk freaka, the Cypress Hill cliqua Blowin' a hole in tha speaker You don't wanna dis the Perro, the Real One, or the Werro Slangin' rythems through the ghetto Ya best keep ya ass in cheak Come on little mutha fuckas betta show respect An whats next, the big brown takin' ya down How ya feel (how ya feel punk) When your sorry ass can't hang with the Hill Chorus: 1/2 Outro: B-Real Can ya feel the effects of the chocolate tide Nobody even knows how I kick the flow Slow down, cause ya commin' up too fast Ya might get smacked down cause ya got no class [Fades out] |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Damian Marley]
All aboard, and jump on the Ganja Bus We now want the new weed, beat under us Rollin′ up, roll like we thunderous Somkin′ up, Rasta not sprinkle dust Too much ecstasy, make manna exit us Too much fantasy, here upon next to us Fit in ganja weed, always notorious Sucker censor me, if you feel glorious We have weed in our cakes and Oreo′s Believe me though, death upon your Marlboro You want my roll, on someone you hardly know This Marley grow, no time to move feet Make it slow, you tellin′ me no Say you want to start the show Like cool, Johnny Depp and you want to blow You shot, direct; that means you are far bellow You start to take, substances up in your nose [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie [B-Real] On the ganja bus, they comin′ after us We makin′ stops all over Los Angeles On the block, where the weed that get scandalous When we run around, police can′t handle us They wanna clout the bus, and on the top be us They never wanna come around, just a rowdy bunch Tengo el poder, tu no aguantas Yo sé, que el juego es dificil para usted Despiertate, no dejes tu gente ver Tu situación cuando no puedes mantener En fuerza que nosotros, enseñale Deja tu vida sin rastros, escondete Portate, we flyin′ up tu +santrope+ And if you want we can jet through Maldigo B [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie Senn Dogg! [Sen Dog] Cuando fumo yo no juego, pásame el fuego Me lo fumo todo, quememe los dedos En la mańana cuando me levanto Antes que nada, yo quemo un pipaso Enamorado con la yerba buena comida cubana y las nalgas morenas todas las nenas saben que yo tengo las colitas, vete en mi leńo no hay nadie que me quite el vicio marihuano por vida, oiste chico? Mundo entero quiero que me entiende La cara virgen wanna va tu mente [Chorus] [B-Real] It′s so hazardous Take a strive with us When it′s over California, we react the bus We fabulous, your talk don′t mean jack to us Better fear for your ass the assassins come Pass ya′ blunts, gonna have to mash it up For you conniving mothafuckers wanna stash it up You actin′ up, we can′t have that′s whats up Listen Muggs on the table gonna slash it up [Chorus] (2x) |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
[Damian Marley]
All aboard, and jump on the Ganja Bus We now want the new weed, beat under us Rollin′ up, roll like we thunderous Somkin′ up, Rasta not sprinkle dust Too much ecstasy, make manna exit us Too much fantasy, here upon next to us Fit in ganja weed, always notorious Sucker censor me, if you feel glorious We have weed in our cakes and Oreo′s Believe me though, death upon your Marlboro You want my roll, on someone you hardly know This Marley grow, no time to move feet Make it slow, you tellin′ me no Say you want to start the show Like cool, Johnny Depp and you want to blow You shot, direct; that means you are far bellow You start to take, substances up in your nose [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie [B-Real] On the ganja bus, they comin′ after us We makin′ stops all over Los Angeles On the block, where the weed that get scandalous When we run around, police can′t handle us They wanna clout the bus, and on the top be us They never wanna come around, just a rowdy bunch Tengo el poder, tu no aguantas Yo sé, que el juego es dificil para usted Despiertate, no dejes tu gente ver Tu situación cuando no puedes mantener En fuerza que nosotros, enseñale Deja tu vida sin rastros, escondete Portate, we flyin′ up tu +santrope+ And if you want we can jet through Maldigo B [Chorus: Damian Marley - 2X] No nina where you find me Some boy go rich, blow ninety We′re smokin′ like a genie The skunky and the greenie Senn Dogg! [Sen Dog] Cuando fumo yo no juego, pásame el fuego Me lo fumo todo, quememe los dedos En la mańana cuando me levanto Antes que nada, yo quemo un pipaso Enamorado con la yerba buena comida cubana y las nalgas morenas todas las nenas saben que yo tengo las colitas, vete en mi leńo no hay nadie que me quite el vicio marihuano por vida, oiste chico? Mundo entero quiero que me entiende La cara virgen wanna va tu mente [Chorus] [B-Real] It′s so hazardous Take a strive with us When it′s over California, we react the bus We fabulous, your talk don′t mean jack to us Better fear for your ass the assassins come Pass ya′ blunts, gonna have to mash it up For you conniving mothafuckers wanna stash it up You actin′ up, we can′t have that′s whats up Listen Muggs on the table gonna slash it up [Chorus] (2x) |
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| from X-Ecutioners - Revolutions (2004) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Tequila Sunrise [single] (1998) | |||||
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from Training Day (트레이닝 데이) [ost] (2001)
(feat. Kokane)
[*Kokane laughing*] [Kokane] People are so, so greedy Tired of fake homies, homies, homies (Why they hatin' on me) I don't know what... (Y'all expect from me) In fact I'm tired of... (So-called fake homies) You reall ain't said nothin' Only come around... Act like I owe ya something [Hook: Kokane] (GREED) What make lifetime groups break up (GREED) Oh, what make yo woman take yo cash and don't give a fuck (GREED) Destroys successful record companies (GREED) And put chu' in yo grave and you rest in hell [Sen Dogg] It's a motherfucker man, they all greedy You get cho' head put out for shit that you don't need Some fools baller status just ain't enough There's always some other nigga out there that got it mo' plush You don't gotta be a rich man to be content Some niggas got it all but don't know where the good times went The quality of life can only be enhanced When ya trust other motherfuckers and uh give em' a chance Don't mistake my kindness as a weakness Cause I work out my mental as well as my physical fitness I've seen a lot of fools get caught up in this greed business All it gets you is on everybody's shit list Greed is like a disease, something sort of psychologic Once ya take the gun ho ain't no way to ever stop it [Hook: Kokane] (GREED) What make lifetime groups break up (GREED) Oh, what make yo homie take yo cash and don't give a fuck (GREED) Destroys successful record companies (GREED) And put chu' in yo grave and you rest in hell [B-Real] How many faces of greed have you seen That would make a good man fall and a woman plot and scheme Even a homie on ya team is suspect When it comes to money and power an all you expect They try to put their hands in ya pockets with out chu' lookin' But when I find you out ya whole world's shookin' And they're relentless, the quest for the ends is endless You lose yo senses and you get beatin' senseless But there's others you can't do nothin' about Cause they're on a higher level and they hold too much clout But in time, in the end they'll pay When they're standin' before the man on Judgement Day Standin' there but what excuse can you give You reduced to shit because you refuse to give [Hook] (GREED) What make lifetime groups break up (GREED) Oh, what make yo homie take yo cash and don't give a fuck (GREED) Destroys successful record companies (GREED) And put chu' in yo grave and you rest in hell [Kokane] (Why they hatin' on me) I don't know what... (Y'all expect from me) In fact I'm tired of... (So-called fake homies) You reall ain't said nothin' Only come around... Act like I owe ya something |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
cypress hill
cypress hill cypress hill Crusing through the neighborhood Some say I'm no good Claimin I'm a criminal But lets make it understood Just one man man with a whole lot of homeboys (whole lot) Ya get the click of the glock When I pull of the chrome toy Check me and I'll check you back (check you back) Then jump back to my big Buddah like I'm not a bad guy But don't take advantage I'm throwin out the garbage just show me where the can is All I was doin was searchin for the boon Then some punk tried to hit me with a broom Lucky I ducked quick Or else I'd be assed up Last thing I wanted was have to pull the gatt out here comes a nigga And he's got a .38 Well my roundhouse said hey yo I'm shootin up straight Cuz I put away the shotgun borrow me a glock Took a liitle trip to the funky weed spot tried to jack me but home got shot la-la-la-lalala-la! Understand where I'm commin from Self defense turns to the offense (right, were down, were down) Understand where I'm commin from Self defense turns to the offense (right, were down, were down) Couple niggas from the east side fuckin up ya program No one witnissed But they heard the gun blast It left the problem unsolved now I'm gonna sum up people gettin hurt in the process of the come up Gotta with the fools That'll wait for you to run up Rollin in the hood That's already shot up Pocket full of gatts And see if we can spot the Homey that's slick In the process of the dip When we find this out Gonna unload the clip! And take a little trip down to Rio My neighboorhood's hot and so I gots to go chill Cuz I put away the shotgun borrow me a glock Took a liitle trip to the funky weed spot tried to jack me but home got shot la-la-la-lalala-la! Understand where I'm commin from Self defense turns to the offense (right, were down, were down) Understand where I'm commin from Self defense turns to the offense (right, were down, were down) Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit Think I'll load a clip Lets see if you can deal with Cuz the bulletproof vest ain't shit When the infrared's pointin at your head kid And that's just to bad yo Now I'm headed up a river in a boat with no paddle Shoulda put the glock down (glock down) Now they got me in lock down livin' like a nigga whose done lost his mind Cuz self defense turns to the offense But nobody even really knows that (knows that) All they see is me and the gatt Up in the court room Lookin at the jury Starin down the punk ass district attourney la-la-la-la-lala-la! Verdict's in You're not guilty as charged When I put away my shotgun borrow me a glock Took a liitle trip to the funky weed spot tried to jack me but home got shot la-la-la-lalala-la! Understand where I'm commin from Self defense turns to the offense (right, were down, were down) Understand where I'm commin from Self defense turns to the offense (right, were down, were down) (cypress hill...) |
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from Stanley, Son of Theodore: Yet Another Alternative Music Sampler (1996)
Verse One
Well I′m an alley cat, some say a dirty rat On my side you see my gat, see I′m all of that Sendin off buck shots for I′m gonna wetcha Running hard, but I′m still coming to getcha Thinking like a peace smoke, comin on a homicide You talkin shit, try to take me for a ride I′m not a bad guy, but I′m the funky feel one Finger on the trigger with my hands upon the steel Lettin out a bullet, this is going boo-yaa You′re stuck in my so hood, so what ya gonna do now? Being the hunted one is no fun Here I come son, yo I think you better run Better run more, and move a little faster Second of thought and I′m coming to blast ya With my Chorus Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump Left hand on a forty, [puffin onna blunt] Pumped my shotgun, [niggaz didn′t jump] Lala la la lala la laaaaa... Verse Two Comin at you like a stiff blow, fuckin up your program Ain′t takin shit from you him or no man Master mind maniac and a menace soooo How they want to pass sentence All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger He missed, so now the nigga′s pissed Rude and crude like a pitbull, get to the point Your fuckin car to get pulled, now I′m headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I′m handin out beatdowns I′m headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I′m handin out beatdowns [get your face down!] Put me in chains, try to beat my brains I can get out, but the grudge remains When I see ya punk ass, I′m gonna getcha Fucking do ya, shotgun go boo-yaa! Chorus Verse Three Kickin that funky Cypress Hill shit Take a lot of mental for the blunted to chill with, Cuz I′m the chill one, known to get ill one They stepped to the Hill ″What′s up?″, I had to kill one Now I′m headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Hit me like a nigga who done lost his mind Cause I ain′t goin out like a spineless jellyfish Some say life is a bitch Ask that punk who dug his own ditch Out for the Hill fuckin up at a party Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body Lala la la lala la laaa Look at all of those funeral cars Cause I′ma Chorus |
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4:42 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Well I'm an alley cat
Some say a dirty rat On my side is my gat See I'm all of that Spittin' out buck shots, for I'm gonna wetcha Running hard, but I'm still coming to getcha Thinking like a peace smoke, comin' on a homicide You talkin' shit, try to take me for a ride I'm not a bad guy But I'm the funky feel one Finger on the trigger with my hands upon the steel Lettin' out a bullet, this is going boo-ya You're stuck in my hood, so what ya gonna do now? Being the hunted one is no fun Here I come son Yo I think you better run Better run more, and move a little faster Second of thought and I'm coming to blast ya With my Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Comin' at you like a stiff blow, fuckin' up your program Ain't takin' shit from you him or no man Master mind maniac and a menace Oh, how they want to pass a sentence All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger He missed So now the nigga's hist' Rude and crude like a pitbull Get to the point, your fuckin' going to get pulled Now, I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns Get your face down! Put me in chains Try to beat my brains I can get out, but the grudge remains When I see ya punk ass, I'm gonna get ya Gatt ya Fucking do ya Shotgun goes boo-ya! Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit, Think I'll light another for the blunted to chill with 'Cause I'm the chill one Known to get ill when They stepped to the Hill "What's up?", I had to kill one Now I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Livin' like a nigga who done lost his mind 'Cause I ain't goin out like a spineless jellyfish Some say life is a bitch Ask that punk who dug his own ditch Up on the Hill fuckin' up at a party Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body Lala la la lala la laa Look at all of those funeral cars 'Cause I'm a Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa |
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from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill (1999)
Well I'm an alley cat Some say a dirty rat On my side is my gat See I'm all of that Spittin' out buck shots, for I'm gonna wetcha Running hard, but I'm still coming to getcha Thinking like a peace smoke, comin' on a homicide You talkin' shit, try to take me for a ride I'm not a bad guy But I'm the funky feel one Finger on the trigger with my hands upon the steel Lettin' out a bullet, this is going boo-ya You're stuck in my hood, so what ya gonna do now? Being the hunted one is no fun Here I come son Yo I think you better run Better run more, and move a little faster Second of thought and I'm coming to blast ya With my Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Comin' at you like a stiff blow, fuckin' up your program Ain't takin' shit from you him or no man Master mind maniac and a menace Oh, how they want to pass a sentence All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger He missed So now the nigga's hist' Rude and crude like a pitbull Get to the point, your fuckin' going to get pulled Now, I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And I'm handin' out beatdowns Get your face down! Put me in chains Try to beat my brains I can get out, but the grudge remains When I see ya punk ass, I'm gonna get ya Gatt ya Fucking do ya Shotgun goes boo-ya! Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit, Think I'll light another for the blunted to chill with 'Cause I'm the chill one Known to get ill when They stepped to the Hill "What's up?", I had to kill one Now I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle And they got me on lock down Livin' like a nigga who done lost his mind 'Cause I ain't goin out like a spineless jellyfish Some say life is a bitch Ask that punk who dug his own ditch Up on the Hill fuckin' up at a party Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body Lala la la lala la laa Look at all of those funeral cars 'Cause I'm a Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump Lala la la lala la laaaa |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
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, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Hits From The Bong
Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Hits From The Bong Pick it, pack it, Fire it up, Come along, And take a hit from the bong, Put the blunt down just for a second, Don't get me wrong it's not a new method, Inhale, Exhale, Just got a ounce in the mail, I like a blunt or a big fat cone, But my double barrel bong is gettin' me stoned, I'm skill it, There's water inside don't spill it, It smells like shit on the carpet, Still it, goes down smooth when I get a clean hit, Of the skunky funky smelly green shit, Sing my song, puff all night long, As I take Hits from the bong... Hits From The Bong y'all Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Gonna get high, Hits From The Bong Let's smoke that bowl, hit the bong, And then take that finger off of that hole, Plug it, unplug it, Don't straaaain, I love you Mary Jane, She never complains, when I hit Mary, With that flame, I light up the cherry, She's so good to me, when I pack a fresh bowl I clean the screen, Don't get me stirred up the smoke, through the bub-bling water, Is Makin' it pure so I got ta', take my hit and hold it, Just like Chong, I hit the bowl and I reload it, Get my four-footer and bring it on... As I take Hits from the bong, Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Hits From The Bong Can I get a hit Straighten your dick out... Can I get a hit ... |
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3:34 |
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from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill (1999)
Hole In The Head Cypress Hill Musik Mad man's gonna gat ya, quick with a quete you see a game, no thee ain't no jugete roll it like a psycho with the windows rolled down who you lookin at, you tryin to play me clown. Plato, simon you want static while you reach for your gat to load the automatic. BOOYAA, spittin out buck shots, boy me say blood clot, now you can call a pig. Cuz no one can handle ajuanta el loco insane in the brain you get the bullet. "And a hole on the head , a fuckin hole in you r head a hole in your head, a hole in your head. You get a hole in your head, in your mother fuckin head a hole in the head, a hole in the head". 8 barrles pumpin, system thumpin see a fine hyna come on baby jumpin. aste paca here let me tell you something you and me ruca we should be humpin. If honew likes the mack homies got her in the bag but there's vatos rollin up and they're stickin out their flag. He jumpins out with a sag, a where you from homes it's on, he sees him reachin for his chrome buck shot to the dome jumps in the brougham honey's in the back, but she just wants to go home. But he dips to the store, homeboy needs a 40 whiteboy at the counters thinkin oh lordie lordie. Pushin on a botton panickin for nothin pigs on the way hey yo I smell bacon. Dips out the store one-time hits the corner then he hits the fuckin alley like if homes was Pop Warner Still had the 40 comin out the alley seen the chief son pig officer O Malley In a black -n- white thinkin he's gonna jack 'em right wrong, it's gonna be on that pig better saca la chrome. And by the way you get a hole on the head , a fuckin hole in your head a hole in your head, a hole in your head. You get a hole in your head, in your mother fuckin head a hole in the head, a hole in the head". Pigs rollin up and now he's really baffled brothas thinkin dam I never got that gaffled. Beat down all the way to the station gaffled up from a false accusation on to the pen, you know homes the pinta where the attitudes are flyin and the punks will be dyin made a comb to a shank I'm gonna stick ya get with ya you know homes the picture. you get a hole on the head , a fuckin hole in your head a hole in your head, a hole in your head. You get a hole in your head, in your mother fuckin head a hole in the head, a hole in the head". |
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4:12 |
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from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill (1999)
"It's another one of them old phunky Cypress Hill things, you know what I'm sayin'? And it goes like this:" Hey, don't miss out on what you're passing You're missing the hootah Of the funky buddha Eluder Of your fucked-up styles, I get wicked So come on as Cypress starts to kick it 'Cause we're like the outlaws stridin' While suckers are hidin' Jump behind the bush when you see me drivin' By Hanging out the window With my magnum taking out some putos Acting kind of loco I'm just another local Kid from the street getting paid from my vocals Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand I'm ignoring all the dumb shit Yo, because nothing is coming from it I'm not gonna waste no time fuckin' around my gat straight humming Hummin', Coming at ya Yeah ya know I had to gatt ya Time for some action Just a fraction of friction I got the clearance To run the interference Into your satellite Shining a battle light Sen got the gatt and I know that he'll gatt you right Here's an example Just a little sample How I could just kill a man One-time tried to come in my home Take my chrome I said, "Yo, it's on!" Take cover son or you're assed-out How do you like my chrome then I watched the rookie pass out Didn't have to blast him but I did anyway That young punk had to pay So I just killed a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man It's gonna be a long time before I finish One of the many missions that I had to establish To lite My spliff ignite You with insight So if you ain't down, bullshit! Say some punk tried to get you for your auto Would you call the One-time and play the role model? No! I think you'll play like a thug Next you hear the shot of a magnum slug Humming coming at ya Yeah ya know I'm gonna gatt ya! How you know where I'm at when you haven't been where I've been? Understand where I'm coming from When you're up on the hill in your big home I'm out here risking my dome Just for a bucket Or a fast duck it Just to stay alive, yo I got to say "fuck it!" Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand "All I wanted was a Pepsi!" "What does it all mean?" |
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4:07 |
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from Grand Theft Auto [ost] (2004)
"It's another one of them old phunky Cypress Hill things, you know what I'm
sayin'? And it goes like this:" Hey, don't miss out on what you're passing You're missing the hootah Of the funky buddha Eluder Of your fucked-up styles, I get wicked So come on as Cypress starts to kick it 'Cause we're like the outlaws stridin' While suckers are hidin' Jump behind the bush when you see me drivin' By Hanging out the window With my magnum taking out some putos Acting kind of loco I'm just another local Kid from the street getting paid from my vocals Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand I'm ignoring all the dumb shit Yo, because nothing is coming from it I'm not gonna waste no time fuckin' around my gat straight humming Hummin', Coming at ya Yeah ya know I had to gatt ya Time for some action Just a fraction of friction I got the clearance To run the interference Into your satellite Shining a battle light Sen got the gatt and I know that he'll gatt you right Here's an example Just a little sample How I could just kill a man One-time tried to come in my home Take my chrome I said, "Yo, it's on!" Take cover son or you're assed-out How do you like my chrome then I watched the rookie pass out Didn't have to blast him but I did anyway That young punk had to pay So I just killed a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man It's gonna be a long time before I finish One of the many missions that I had to establish To lite My spliff ignite You with insight So if you ain't down, bullshit! Say some punk tried to get you for your auto Would you call the One-time and play the role model? No! I think you'll play like a thug Next you hear the shot of a magnum slug Humming coming at ya Yeah ya know I'm gonna gatt ya! How you know where I'm at when you haven't been where I've been? Understand where I'm coming from When you're up on the hill in your big home I'm out here risking my dome Just for a bucket Or a fast duck it Just to stay alive, yo I got to say "fuck it!" Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man Here is something you can't understand "All I wanted was a Pepsi!" "What does it all mean?" |
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4:26 |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
Let's kick it ese
COMIN' OUT DA SLUMS!!! It's da hoodlums I'm pullin' my gat out on all you bums So bring it on when you wanna come fight this Outlaw, kickin like Billy Ray Cypress Hill Chill, I'll bust that grill Grab my gat, and load up the steel And if you wanna get drastic I'll pull out my plastic glock, automatic Synthetic material, burial plots in order Headed down to the Mexican border Smokin' that smellie, Northern Cali Gonna put a slug in Captain O'Malley Ho, hum - hear the gat come, boooooommmmmm! Let me see what you'll do It's a sin to kill a man But I'll be damned if I don't take a stand *We ain't goin' out like that We ain't goin' out like that "We ain't goin' out!" We ain't goin' out like that We ain't goin' out like that "We ain't goin' out!" We ain't goin' out like that We ain't goin' out like that "We ain't goin' out!" We ain't goin' out like that "We ain't goin' out like that!" I'm high strung, click I'm sprung Cause I don't live on the hum-drum Where I'm from, the gats'll be smokin' I'll be damned if you think I'm jokin' Know - that I'll come with the static Erratic, .45 automatic Screamin' at ya, the red lights beamin' at ya No need to run after The punk-ass hook, in the oven I'll cook Dig the grave for the one who got played Now he's under, don't make Stevie Wonder why Cause he'll testify *Repeat I got you thinkin' "What the fuck is this?" Lettin' you know I take care of business Can.. I.. get a witness? To verify when I depict this style That makes you ecstatic Tragic, when I get a poof of the magic buddha When I roll with my crew I betcha one time can't find my hootah In my vehicle with the belt unbuckled Pig rollin' up but he ain't that subtle Pulled to da curb, so we exchange a few words But he got me stirred up, enough to grab the handcuffs I'll huff-n-puff and blow ya head off! *Repeat Yeahhh! Takin your disses and dissin y'all right back Dissin the Cypress Hill crew, like we ain't shit You little taco stand rapper, eat a bowl of dick up Then you got my man (?), you can eat a bowl of dick up Anybody got beef around the way, yo EAT A BOWL OF DICK UP!! GEEEYEAH!! |
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3:52 |
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from Judgment Night (킬러 나이트) [ost] (1992)
Sugar come back, Get me high
Sugar come back, Get me high Look who's back on the program Hookin' up another fly joint When I flow on the slow jam. When I shift I kick to go Like a fat drunk and I light up a fat spliff Take a wiff Can you smell that in the air? When the smoke come out the building from every where Shit I still get down So just sit down When my thoughts stops crawling Time to sit down With yet I go wrong You got to hit my bong Later on then I'll be getting high all alone You got a friend named Mary Jane And she make me feel strange Now I've got to call out her name I love you Mary Jane Sugar come back, Get me high I love you Mary Jane Sugar come back, Get me high Can I call Marijuana If you wanna party While shit I'm gonna as soon as she comes out Round to my neighborhood Damn and she always smells good Let me make this understood Are you experienced Have you ever been experienced Not for the life, make you delirious Why is the room spinnin' I can't stop now I must have been drinking 'Cause this ain't pot That's doing me like this I feel ill now I'm calling out to Mary Cause I just can't deal I love you Mary Jane Sugar come back, Get me high I love you Mary Jane Sugar come back, Get me high |
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2:55 |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
I want to get high - so high!
I want to get high - so high! I want to get high - so high! I want to get high - so high! Well that's the funk elastic, the blunt I twist it The slamafied, (buddafied) funk on your discus Oh, what you messed with, you got to bare witness Catch a ho and another ho Merry Christmas Yes I smoke shit, straight off the roach clip I roach it roll the blunt at once to approach it Forward motion make you sway like the ocean The herb is more than just a powerful potion What's the commotion, yo I'm not joking around People learning about, what they're smoking My oven is on high, when I roast the quail Tell Bill Clinton to go and inhale Exhale, now you felt the funk of the power now feel the effects... I want to get high - so high! I want to get high - so high! I want to get high - so high! I want to get high - so high! yo hits from the bong yo hits from the bong yo hits from the bong yo hits from the from the bong from the bong yo hits from the bong yo hits from the from the bong from the bong yo hits from the from the bong from the bong |
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4:28 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Some people tell me that I need help
Some people can fuck off and go to hell God damn, why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em! And feed 'em, cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gat to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin that trigga, I dig ya That grave on the east side of towwwwn Lay ya six feet undergrounnnnd From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Clicl-clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't goin home But I ain't goin out with a bang Wa da da dang, wa dada daa dang *I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions, all this confusion's fuckin me up in my mind Motherfuckers be drivin me up the walls Hopin that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket, strap it In a padded room when some punk niggaz can't hack it Distracted from all reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality (ahhh) They all fucked up now Cause they let a nigga back on the streets somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city lookin at the ho wit the big titties Lookin at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin hot Cause she looks like my girl who just smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin round with the gauge or a rope *Repeat I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. I'm havin illusions.. |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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3:49 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Some people tell me that I need help
Some people can fuck off and go to hell God damn, why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck em! And feed em cause I don't need em I won't join em if I can beat em They don't understand my logic To my gat to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin that trigga, I dig ya That grave on the east side of town Lay ya six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Clic Cloc barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit the pain Wa da da dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind Muthafuckas be drivin me up the walls Hopin that I fall but they can suck my balls Straight jacket, strap it In a padded room when some punk niggaz can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city lookin at the ho wit the big titties Lookin at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin hot Cause she looks like my girl who just smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin round wit the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions |
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3:29 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
"Aw man wake up... ' fuck is goin' on?"
"Shit" "Oh shit I can't wake up nigga..." "Oh shit, what the fuck's goin' on? Can't keep these voices out o' my head" "You messin' with the wrong nigga this time." "Fucked up... aw shit." Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell Goddamn why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck 'em, and feed 'em 'cause I don't need 'em I won't join 'em if I can beat 'em They don't understand my logic To my gatt to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin' that trigga I'll dig ya That grave on the east side of town Now you're six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Click clack, barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit' a bang Wa dada dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions Muthafuckas be drivin' me up the walls Hopin' that I fall but they can lick my balls Straight jacket Strap it In the padded room where some punk niggas can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now 'Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin' in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city Lookin' at the ho' wit' the big titties Lookin' at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin' hot 'Cause she looks like my girl who got smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin' to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin' 'round wit' the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's drivin' me mad inside I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions, all of this confusion's fuckin' me up in my mind I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions |
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3:29 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
Some people tell me that I need help Some people can fuck off and go to hell God damn, why they criticize me Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me Fuck em! And feed em cause I don't need em I won't join em if I can beat em They don't understand my logic To my gat to my money and I'm hooked on chronic I never wanted to hurt a nigga Unless ya come flexin that trigga, I dig ya That grave on the east side of town Lay ya six feet underground From man, to the dust to the ashes All I remember tell me where the cash is Clic Cloc barrel at my dome Give all your loot or you ain't going home But I ain't going out wit the pain Wa da da dang, wa dada daa dang Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind Muthafuckas be drivin me up the walls Hopin that I fall but they can suck my balls Straight jacket, strap it In a padded room when some punk niggaz can't hack it Distracted from our reality Now I'm let out on a minor technicality They all fucked up now Cause they let a nigga back on the street somehow I'm lookin for someone like me Livin in my own world to my own degree On the loose in the city lookin at the ho wit the big titties Lookin at me and I feel shitty A little tensed up gettin hot Cause she looks like my girl who just smoked at the crack spot I'm tryin to find ways to cope But I ain't fuckin round wit the gauge or a rope Chorus: I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions drivin me mad inside I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions fuckin me up in my mind I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions I'm havin illusions |
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3:30 |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
Who you tryin' to get crazy with ese? Don't you know I'm loco?
To the one on the flam Boy your temper just toss that ham In the fryin' pan Like spam Feel done when I come in slam Damn I feel like the son of sam Don't make me wreck shit hectic Next to the chair got me goin' like General Electric EEEN! The lights are blinking I'm thinking It's all over when I go out drinking Oh, makin' my mind slow, That's why I don't fuck wit da big four-o Bro', I got ta maintain `Cause a nigga like me is goin' insane Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the membrane Plenty insane Got no brain! Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Do my shit undercover Now it's time for the blubba Blabba To watch that belly get fatter Fat boy on a diet Don't try it I'll jack your ass like a looter in a riot My shit's fat like a sumo slammin' that ass Leavin' your face in the grass You know I don't take a dulo Lightly Punks just jealous `cause they can't outwrite me So kick that style: wicked, wild Happy face nigga never seen me smile Rip that mainframe I'll explain A nigga like me is goin' insane Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the membrane Going insane Got no brain! Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the brain In the brain It's because I'm loco Insane in the brain In the brain It's because I'm loco Insane in the brain In the brain Insane It's because I'm loco Insane in the brain Like Louie Armstrong Played the trumpet I'll hit dat bong and break ya off something soon I got to get my props Cops Come and try to snatch my crops These pigs wanna blow my house down Head underground To the next town They get mad When they come to raid my pad And I'm out in the nine deuce Cad' Yes I'm the pirate pilot Of this ship if I get Wit' the ultraviolet dream Hide from the red light beam Now do you believe in the unseen Look, but don't make your eyes strain A nigga like me is goin' insane Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the membrane Plenty insane Got no brain! Insane in the membrane Insane in the brain! Insane in the brain It's because I'm loco Insane in the brain It's because I'm loco Insane in the brain It's because I'm loco Insane in the brain It's because I'm loco "...I think I'm going crazy..." |
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from Cypress Hill - Insane In The Brain [single] (1993)
To da one on da flam
boy it's tough I just toss that ham on the fryin pan like spam it's done when I come in slam damn, I feel like the son of sam don't make me wrek shit wit a automatic got me goin' likke general electric damn the lights are blinkin' I'm thinkin' it's all over when go out drinkin' OH makin' my mind slow, that's why I don't fuck with the big four-oh bro, I got ta' maintain cuz a nigga like me is goin; insane chorus: insane in da membrane insane in da brain! (repeat 4x) Do my shit undercover now it's time for for the blubba blaba to watch dat belly get fatter fat boy on a diet don't try it I'll check your ass like a looter in a riot much too fast like a sumo slammin' dat ass leavin' your face in the grass you know I don't take a chulo lightly punck just jealous cuz he can't outwrite me so kick that style, wicked wild happy face nigga never seen me smile rip dat mainframe I'll explain a nigga like me is goin' insane chorus Like louie armstrong played the trumpet I'll hit dat bong and break ya off something soon I got ta get my props cops come and try to snatch my crops these pigs wanna blow my house down and undrground to the next town they get mad when they come to raid my pad and I'm out in the night loose scared yes I'm the pirate pilot of this ship if I get wit' the ultraviolet dream hide from the red light beam now do you believe in the unseen look, but don't make you eyes strain a nigga like me is goin' insane chorus |
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from Cypress Hill - Insane In The Brain [single] (1993)
To da one on da flam
boy it's tough I just toss that ham on the fryin pan like spam it's done when I come in slam damn, I feel like the son of sam don't make me wrek shit wit a automatic got me goin' likke general electric damn the lights are blinkin' I'm thinkin' it's all over when go out drinkin' OH makin' my mind slow, that's why I don't fuck with the big four-oh bro, I got ta' maintain cuz a nigga like me is goin; insane chorus: insane in da membrane insane in da brain! (repeat 4x) Do my shit undercover now it's time for for the blubba blaba to watch dat belly get fatter fat boy on a diet don't try it I'll check your ass like a looter in a riot much too fast like a sumo slammin' dat ass leavin' your face in the grass you know I don't take a chulo lightly punck just jealous cuz he can't outwrite me so kick that style, wicked wild happy face nigga never seen me smile rip dat mainframe I'll explain a nigga like me is goin' insane chorus Like louie armstrong played the trumpet I'll hit dat bong and break ya off something soon I got ta get my props cops come and try to snatch my crops these pigs wanna blow my house down and undrground to the next town they get mad when they come to raid my pad and I'm out in the night loose scared yes I'm the pirate pilot of this ship if I get wit' the ultraviolet dream hide from the red light beam now do you believe in the unseen look, but don't make you eyes strain a nigga like me is goin' insane chorus |
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from Cypress Hill - Insane In The Brain [single] (1993)
To da one on da flam
boy it's tough I just toss that ham on the fryin pan like spam it's done when I come in slam damn, I feel like the son of sam don't make me wrek shit wit a automatic got me goin' likke general electric damn the lights are blinkin' I'm thinkin' it's all over when go out drinkin' OH makin' my mind slow, that's why I don't fuck with the big four-oh bro, I got ta' maintain cuz a nigga like me is goin; insane chorus: insane in da membrane insane in da brain! (repeat 4x) Do my shit undercover now it's time for for the blubba blaba to watch dat belly get fatter fat boy on a diet don't try it I'll check your ass like a looter in a riot much too fast like a sumo slammin' dat ass leavin' your face in the grass you know I don't take a chulo lightly punck just jealous cuz he can't outwrite me so kick that style, wicked wild happy face nigga never seen me smile rip dat mainframe I'll explain a nigga like me is goin' insane chorus Like louie armstrong played the trumpet I'll hit dat bong and break ya off something soon I got ta get my props cops come and try to snatch my crops these pigs wanna blow my house down and undrground to the next town they get mad when they come to raid my pad and I'm out in the night loose scared yes I'm the pirate pilot of this ship if I get wit' the ultraviolet dream hide from the red light beam now do you believe in the unseen look, but don't make you eyes strain a nigga like me is goin' insane chorus |
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4:26 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Intro:
What′s up we gonna go down the line baby Brand new one from the Call O Da Wild Give big shouts to money makin Manhattan 145th street crews, 155th street crews All my niggaz on the East Side We gonna flip the track baby, flip the script like this Big shouts to all the weed spots and all that who know how we do Me things no money sat on Monies chicks Fillin Barcadi on club seats Harm′s represent the crease on wise fully feet harmly accriminate Futuristic kittens of the street all malfunction seats Crews stand like mannequins sportin names is Tim′s I′ll make half your flaps burn is self-discipline And supportin your kittens if you′re convinced They keep the scripts movie-men Experience and hard is (unknown) has captured run for the (unkown) Mischievous black kids dipped in black hooches Ruthless-a the caswendler stupid used to pump with the any gooier Now let the card hold the futures Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual trauma causing dime Barron Ricks B Ricks stands anonymous decant flicks And non-raps that can′t bonely manifest the Buddha blessed Freshly dressed rollin in the clubs for success I′m not dressed in materialistic games to get the sex The five six I′m livin fortune of survival tactics Keepin my enemies close and all my niggaz out of business What is this? Slicey characters spreadin my business Fragments that can′t manage that do damage yo I had it Environmental pressure causing static In fabric of the asiac cabbage it′s madness All this I′m civilized now what do I now? Run these avenues buckwild with crews now who is it? Makin all you critics fiend these lyrics And be the core Yes y′all comin through on your premises This is it Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Interlude KnowI′msayin? Big shouts to my sacred projects connections know I′m sayin? All my brothers on 113th Lexus to-dial knowI′msayin? Big shouts to the LES baby we see you Put on Stella performances While niggaz place bids at auto auctions Re-model frames and changin rusty engines and courting And while you Forman fools wanna shorten my life My life is like survival organs It′s not important that you′re this lyrical dissertation Tossing lineal seeing precitals break your vinyl Chronically spotting spiral perhaps spinning out wax Yo ?Nas? put the black wars on elegant floors The teachers got operations make em insecure Gypsy cabs I flag Donnas DC slam that ass take a detour Affiliates with my predominately black landscape Hop the squad I watch the sling shot from rotting up your pin spot Jostling nigga glocked him playing possum I got the X-ray vision Ain′t nothing poppin while the tears who interfere And the fears they disappear Chorus B-Real Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin dons causing trauma Don′t want to do it but they wanna Just the Intellectual ganja puffin DONS Outro: Ah man that′s the Call O′ Da Wild flavor baby I can′t take it no more I′m outta here baby But before we get up out I wanna give big shouts To all the Buddha spots that made this possible Big shouts to the 99 cents store baby The discount health foods know I′m sayin? All the brothers on the Lexus ail with that good, goodness Big shouts to the party bag shop To all you other food spots on your roster crew with the end shit Yeah we out baby don′t forget to flip this to the other side Get with that Call O′ Da Wild baby, it′s like that yeah |
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1:15 |
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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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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2001)
(*Yes y'all ? cut and scratched*)
(B-Real) You're a lost soul rollin down the street Hustlin, scramblin, money you eat You wanna jack somebody, never look at me Cause I'm like you when I'm holdin heat You don't want to think about re-percussions Cause you don't give a f**k about who you rushin So what you gonna do when the blood is gushin? You're playin Roulette without the Russian The stakes are high; can you feel the pressure? Lookin at the club on top of your dresser Born for the big bank robbin your own Thinkin your stone but your weak ass throne Bitches like you ain't got no heart Paranoid, you're settin in, fallin apart How many times will you take to see it? You fallin away, but you don't believe it (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) Jack me and you'll never go back Jack me and I'll jack you back Where y'all bitches got the scheme or the stack? Jack me and I'll jump to attack Tell me what started a scheme at ya lap Jack me and I'll jump to attack Jack me and I'll jack you back Jack me and I'll jack you back (Sen Dog) Clothes are settin off from the start I'm crazy as f**k just like 2 Pac Mash on Cypress Hill in a Catalac truck Steels all gone, so I gotta play it ruff Got hate for do out there, I ain't jokin Can't hold me back these days, I'm out smokin And I still see myself as Enforcer Knock em in their face if they dedicate closer A Cuban massive man (Spanish) With real attack touch straight, from the ghetto Walk for a twenty all day like a (Spanish) Spit ball; lick all rhymes just like (Spanish) I run over fools like Dorsey Leathers And murder antiques like J-Rhyme I kill peasants Take over ships like Female Kastro Do anything that a nigga HAS TO (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) Jack me and you'll never go back Jack me and I'll jack you back Where y'all bitches got the scheme or the stack? Jack me and I'll jump to attack Tell me what started a scheme at ya lap Jack me and I'll jump to attack Jack me and I'll jack you back Jack me and I'll jack you back (Jack you back, jack you back) (B-Real) Lights are f**ked up it's confusin Look at you now what road you choosin You'll never be a part of the revolution You f**k with me, feel the retribution Punk bitches can never deal with the real Cause you weak motherf**kers can't decide what you feel Always poppin shit and hide from the Hill Comin out where you reside for the kill (Sen Dog) Knocked out Pluto, Super Hill thriller Verbal assault, Soul Assassin killer Real master Mic, ca, sex come iller Stoned is a waste over, what you feeler Can't make moves so you go ask Chiller Try the Real Estate trust centipede riller Bet your ass that I'm bangin to the fullest And don't get in my way punk ass, not a Buddhist (Chorus: B-Real & Sen Dog) Jack me and you'll never go back Jack me and I'll jack you back Where y'all bitches got the scheme or the stack? Jack me and I'll jump to attack Tell me what started a scheme at ya lap Jack me and I'll jump to attack Jack me and I'll jack you back Jack me and I'll jack you back |
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4:00 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
"Esto no me gusta. Aqui la gente, la gente no sirve pa' mierda.
Aqui yo soy, yo soy Capitan Pingaloca. Y to' mundo aqui, me sirve a mi o va pa'l carajo. Oye... revolucion compadre!" In the midst of the madness no question, who's the baddest MC's in the game runnin for the status Take a few seconds to review the crews Sittin on top is the Hill lookin over you Killa Hill Niggas, cream in my dream Cookin up a scheme for all them big bank figures The world is yours, but it can be mine and his Bust you out the frame, I don't give a fuck who it is Number one mission, opposition Get thrown sent home in dead position In the casket, best wishes At the bottom of the lake, sleepin with the fishes Full out search for the body of the MC's who be comin to disrupt the party No wins, no ends, no way that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again! Check my dramatics, brains get splattered, dreams shattered Sabas get blasted for words he packaged Peep the sequence; crab adolescents, on his defense Power-U niggaz talkin fast like Puerto Ricans What you seekin, son I catch cream like Dominicans Last Mohican, lyrics I'm speakin, wild as Indians Tomahawk - Shaolin slang, the violent talk Upstate New York, where chumps get extorted for Newports What you thought? Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again "Y ya esta dicho. Todos los que no les guste mi 'rebote' van a morir Yo le voy a meter una bala a la cabeza a cualquier maricon, que no me persiga a mi a la 'singadapuerta'. Oye, hijo puta! Quiero quemarte la cara!" Words drop in chant, the cheeky-eyed slant I'm takin these cannabis plants yo for grant' Exotic, narcotic, tunes slam soon From a dune in the desert Mega-Babylon pleasure Comin out the domepiece, smell my aroma Warrior nomad, put you in a coma Comma, llama, smash-crashin your armor Drama, I'm a, stealth aircraft bomber Here is where I dwell at the gates o' hell It ain't where you're from it's where you're in the mentals And if not yo, credentials are essential I see reality, few things surroundin me Three like a spread, precise strikes the lyric Not frontin or braggin, hundred percent red dragon Pine fragranced lyrics, the rhymes you can't imagine The globe-trotter, call me Meadowlark Lemon Five part criminal, two part felon - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again .. that that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back.. ease back.. Ease back, ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger - that I'm ever gonna let ya come back again Ease back or I squeeze up on the trigger.. "Esta dicho! Aqui, la revelacion! No se la ve por television. Todos los maricones del norte, que los voy a matar yo. Va a ser aqui en nuestro pais. Y todos los 'singamasones', que estan singando un mundo. Tambien, van a ver la muerte de ellos mismos, lo en las manos de ellos. Un dia, va a ser sangre, mucha sangre. La peste de los cuerpos muertos, vas a oir, que se va a hueler. Hasta los Estados Unidos, estos cabrones, que con la democracia, que nos 'tan singando en el culo. Todos son unos mismos cabrones..." |
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2:56 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Living in the city of the Scandalous
Shisty motherfuckers, can't even trust my own brothers So who can I choose to trust, me, that's who Niggas want a piece of the pie, fuck off and die! Jealous, envious fools want to rush this Loco, trooping ass nigga with the cash, shit Motherfuckers just get your own, and leave mine alone Forty-five places to get done Send out your invitation To the party of your elimination I got peeps that play for keeps, (Hardball) Now I'm laying your ass down to sleep But every hustler wants to be bawling But I got the balls for the shot calling I pull strings, the Don King, only in America Then I hustle, and flex my muscle --Yeah, man, I've been out here running game for eight years --I know I'm getting tired of standing on this corner --Nigga, I want a fat pad, and fly ass pool Finest motherfucking bitches, jewels and all that shit, if I got to take it from a nigga --Shit, let him run for me then --I can work for myself, don't have to work for nobody, I'll be my own hustler Where can I roam to get my hustle on Killafornia, stacking the chips, got the full clips Loaded and cocked, I'm used to running with the Glock Nina Millimeter, lighting up the fucking block Now, who you gonna trust?, who can you trust? I don't know, but if you coming on my corner I think I'm gonna bust You can't handle us, devious, dangerous Criminal mentality, insanity I move weight, from state to state All the niggas moving weights, can you relate? --Damn, what's up, I see you pushing that big time weight --I told you, I wasn't bullshitting --You coming up, aight! --When I seen you three or four months ago I told you --Got respect for a man now --Handle your shit! Where can I choose to get my hustle on? In the alleyway, lighting up all night long Fuck working at McD's, I'm rolling with the O.Z's In the QP's, puffing on trees Who can I trust?, who can you trust? Not that shady motherfucker in the city Los Scandalous --Well, well, little man came up a little bit --It feels good having money in the pocket --Fuck that nine to five bullshit, right? --Yeah, kick that shit to the curb --But you got to look out for the scandalous motherfuckers Cuz niggas is tricky than a motherfucker --Yeah, but motherfuckers got to look out for us too You know what I'm saying I'm just as shisty as a nigga --Shit, set me up and niggas are gonna die --You get set up back, cuz we ain't having that bullshit --I got your back, you got mine, that goes without saying --Twenty-seven and mo' baby, twenty-seven and mo' --Let's get the fuck out of here" |
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| from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996) | |||||
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from Cypress Hill - Illusions [single] (1996)
Livin in the city of the scandalous, shiesty mother fuckas
Can't even trust my own brothers, So who can i choose to trust ? me that's who. Niggas want a piece of the pie, fuck off and die. Jealous, envious, fools wanna rush this. Loco cuban ass nigga with the cash shit. Mother fuckers better get your own And leave mine alone forty five ways to get domed. I send out the invitation, To the party of your elimination. I got peeps that play for keeps........ Now i'm layin your ass down to sleep. But every hustler wanna be ballin But don't got the ball's for the shot callin. I pull strings, the don king; Only in america can i hustle and flex my muscle. (hook). Where can i roam to get my hustle on, Killafornia stackin the chips got the full clips. Loaded and cocked used to run with a glock; Nina milimeter sig lightin up the fuckin block now, Who you gonna trust? who can you trust? I don't know, but if your comin on my corner; i'm gonna bust. You can't handle us, devious, dangerous, Criminal mentality, insanity. I move weight from state to state. All the niggas movin weight can you relate. (hook). Where can i chill to get my hustle on, In the alley way comin up all nite long. Fuck workin at mc' dee's I'm rollin with the o.z's, and the q.p's Puffin on tree's. Who you gonna trust? who can you trust? Not that shady mother fucker in the city of scandalous. {hook}..............end. |
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3:42 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
(Verse One)
Reflections of my own life flash like a fire Powder burns the memories life seems a bad dream Fall for centuries physical and the mental When I crashed through work I was cursed but still I Quit my curse found my hustle Stack paper made it world wide Feeling the dream, dont be a hater son Think you the greater one Gotta put you on the fader son Cut your ass up see you later Gotta drop till your praying nigga You ain't a player hust a frail nigga I'm the slayer in your nightmares Unstoppable When you see me on the street Call a audible I got you covered, face it And you can't dodge this bullet baby This ain't the matrix Got to put you in your placement Hide your body in the basement Your boys wonder where your face went (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Two) Backbreakers of the game Many many musical Legendary criminal destined to be professional I rain supreme Ever since my days you rock vest just to push your range No doubt about it We grew up in the cloud Read up in your magazine just to see what were about Peep into the case, see me, ask Why that black ass nigga flow over the piano Droppin it good For that hoody in the front row Thats my good pro down for the juggalo Three guns busted for the battle man Shoot the whole scene make the motherfucker rattle Duece, double o, slow Church folk say we ain't got too many more Either man rush I'm gonna hit em with the head rush So be careful on what you trusting (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Three) Yo I was walking on the block Heard a couple shots Caught one in the leg And I know who did it They gonna get it Wrap up my leg Bounced upstairs and got strapped up I love that drama shit I'm all gassed up I lit that kush up and got doughed up And thought about all the foul shit I did I can't help it, I was this way since a kid Then I slide out the crib Hunt down my pray The look in my eyes like I sniffed some yay Ran up on homes And blast away He passed away twin got the last laugh today Anybody front I keep that on me You had to die homey thats part of the game I got guns put niggaz don't know how to aim I'm in the shooting range mastering the art (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last |
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3:42 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
(Verse One)
Reflections of my own life flash like a fire Powder burns the memories life seems a bad dream Fall for centuries physical and the mental When I crashed through work I was cursed but still I Quit my curse found my hustle Stack paper made it world wide Feeling the dream, dont be a hater son Think you the greater one Gotta put you on the fader son Cut your ass up see you later Gotta drop till your praying nigga You ain't a player hust a frail nigga I'm the slayer in your nightmares Unstoppable When you see me on the street Call a audible I got you covered, face it And you can't dodge this bullet baby This ain't the matrix Got to put you in your placement Hide your body in the basement Your boys wonder where your face went (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Two) Backbreakers of the game Many many musical Legendary criminal destined to be professional I rain supreme Ever since my days you rock vest just to push your range No doubt about it We grew up in the cloud Read up in your magazine just to see what were about Peep into the case, see me, ask Why that black ass nigga flow over the piano Droppin it good For that hoody in the front row Thats my good pro down for the juggalo Three guns busted for the battle man Shoot the whole scene make the motherfucker rattle Duece, double o, slow Church folk say we ain't got too many more Either man rush I'm gonna hit em with the head rush So be careful on what you trusting (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last (Verse Three) Yo I was walking on the block Heard a couple shots Caught one in the leg And I know who did it They gonna get it Wrap up my leg Bounced upstairs and got strapped up I love that drama shit I'm all gassed up I lit that kush up and got doughed up And thought about all the foul shit I did I can't help it, I was this way since a kid Then I slide out the crib Hunt down my pray The look in my eyes like I sniffed some yay Ran up on homes And blast away He passed away twin got the last laugh today Anybody front I keep that on me You had to die homey thats part of the game I got guns put niggaz don't know how to aim I'm in the shooting range mastering the art (Chorus 2X) Homey we keet those on us Smoke like mufflers To calm down/I sell But still explode Those things so fast/they know not to gas they self They can't fuck with us, we laugh last |
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4:37 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped [ep] (1996)
Freak to the funk that no-one else is bringing
Sen Dog with the funky bilenge Yeah that's the nombre, heard the homey Peace to Mellow and Frost, and the deporte Sen Dog is not kid from the Telano I'm down, another fried hispano One of the many of the latin deseyano [de-say-ahnyo] And I got plenty for the Jennies tryin to hound dog But wait, they're clownin on me cause of my language I have to tell em straight up, it's called spanglish Now who's on the fiend, gala gringo Tryin to get paid, from the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Yeah, funky bilingual! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo! [Sen Dog] From the entro, when I come in, suckers fronted They mida, another bilingual from bein a banga, como ejemplo, check the tempo Ahh, it's that chingonla instrumental Ya no usted, como somos Yo no jovo, I gots the soul dose And you can hear it, in las skonkas Tribal ceremony as the Hill gets stronger Don't be such a leper what chupa la cabeza Hey homes, pass the cervaza Before I have to go and push up on your resa Hmm, she's fine, son que fresca Here homes have a hit of this yesca Deep yo enseno [en-senyo] the lingua la prento Now you know, that I am in the centro Where you live, si tu puedes Nowadays you ain't shit without your puentes Something like it's gangbang, vatos get it BANG BANG Could of hung out with them now you callin me a insane Senta la mi cado, senta mi conmigo Make way, for the the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilinguals hoe! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo, baby! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilingual... Some of that old Latin funk, knowhatI'msayin? [Sen Dog] (What's up homey? Don't you know me?) Si mon (Ain't you the brother of the mas pingo?) Straight up And I'm down with La Raza Kid Frost got my back, BOO-YAA! in la casa Cause everyday things get a little crazier As I step to the microphone area First I claim my city, pudo los angeles [an-heles] Yeah (you know homes) that's where the calles is Vato wouldn't know me, along with the heinas Catchin all them slippin, for they such a one-timer So when you see me at the party or the baile Before I got here I was gaffled in the calle Troop like a vacho who said I was baracho Had an attitude, tried to play me macho Just relax, calmado mijo Sen Dog with the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual... funky baby! Yeah, I'd like to send peace, to my homeboy B-Real Mellow Man Ace, Kid Frost, Ralph M the Mexican And we're out |
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3:59 |
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from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill (1999)
[Sen Dog] Freak to the funk that no-one else is bringing Sen Dog with the funky bilenge Yeah that's the nombre, heard the homey Peace to Mellow and Frost, and the deporte Sen Dog is not kid from the Telano I'm down, another fried hispano One of the many of the latin deseyano [de-say-ahnyo] And I got plenty for the Jennies tryin to hound dog But wait, they're clownin on me cause of my language I have to tell em straight up, it's called spanglish Now who's on the fiend, gala gringo Tryin to get paid, from the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Yeah, funky bilingual! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo! [Sen Dog] From the entro, when I come in, suckers fronted They mida, another bilingual from bein a banga, como ejemplo, check the tempo Ahh, it's that chingonla instrumental Ya no usted, como somos Yo no jovo, I gots the soul dose And you can hear it, in las skonkas Tribal ceremony as the Hill gets stronger Don't be such a leper what chupa la cabeza Hey homes, pass the cervaza Before I have to go and push up on your resa Hmm, she's fine, son que fresca Here homes have a hit of this yesca Deep yo enseno [en-senyo] the lingua la prento Now you know, that I am in the centro Where you live, si tu puedes Nowadays you ain't shit without your puentes Something like it's gangbang, vatos get it BANG BANG Could of hung out with them now you callin me a insane Senta la mi cado, senta mi conmigo Make way, for the the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilinguals hoe! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo, baby! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilingual... Some of that old Latin funk, knowhatI'msayin? [Sen Dog] (What's up homey? Don't you know me?) Si mon (Ain't you the brother of the mas pingo?) Straight up And I'm down with La Raza Kid Frost got my back, BOO-YAA! in la casa Cause everyday things get a little crazier As I step to the microphone area First I claim my city, pudo los angeles [an-heles] Yeah (you know homes) that's where the calles is Vato wouldn't know me, along with the heinas Catchin all them slippin, for they such a one-timer So when you see me at the party or the baile Before I got here I was gaffled in the calle Troop like a vacho who said I was baracho Had an attitude, tried to play me macho Just relax, calmado mijo Sen Dog with the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual... funky baby! Yeah, I'd like to send peace, to my homeboy B-Real Mellow Man Ace, Kid Frost, Ralph M the Mexican And we're out |
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3:48 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
Freak to the funk that no one else is bringin’
Sen Dog with the funky biluingi Yeah that’s the nombre Heard that holmie Peace to Mellow and Frost and neca cote Sen Dog is not a kid a veterano I’m down, another briday’s follow One of the many of the Latins that straight I know And I got plenty for the Jenny’s Alexandro But wait, they’re clownin’ on me ‘cause of my language I have to tell ‘em straight up, it’s called Spanglish My hoes on the pinga the gringo Tryin’ to get paid, for the funky bilingo Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo Yeah funky bilingo Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo It’s the Latin lingo Cuarto hentro when I come in Suckers runnin’ La mida Another bilingo vam beaner Then a cueno hemplo Check the tempo Whaaa, it’s tachingonla instrumental Yeah woofte, como somos Yo no hotho, I got some sodos And you can hear it in la skunkas Tribal ceremony as the Hill gets stronger Don’t be such a liver what ya got for that cavesa Aye holmes pass the cerveza Before I have to go and push up on your reza Mmmm, she’s fine something freska Ya holmes, have a hit of this yeska Teach yo y sin yo The lingo lo puento Now you know, that I am in the centro Where ya live, see the cuertes Now I thinks you ain’t shit without your quinte Something like a skang thang Vactos gettin’ bang banged ‘Cause I hung out with ‘em now you’re callin’ me an insane Suck it mi cara santa mi Camino Make way for the funky bilingual Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo Funky bilinguals holmes Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo It’s the Latin lingo baby Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo Funky bilingo What’s up holmie, don’t you know me Simon, ain’t you the brother of the mas pincos Straight up and down with the rasa The Kid Frost got my back, boo-ya in la casa ‘Cause everyday things get a little crazier As I step to the microphone area As I comb my city burro Los Angeles You know holmes, that’s where the callas is Vactos waitin’ on me along with the heinas Catchin’ all the swiffer when I set your one timer So when you see me at the party or the paile Before I got here I was gaffled in the carre True like govacho who said I was borracho Had an attitude tried to play me macho Just relax, el mado mijo Sen Dog with the funky bilingo Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo Funky bilingual Funky Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo Funky bilingo Funky Latin lingo baby Funky bilingo Funky bilingo Funky baby |
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3:48 |
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from Cypress Hill - Stash [ep, remix] (2002)
[Sen Dog] Freak to the funk that no-one else is bringing Sen Dog with the funky bilenge Yeah that's the nombre, heard the homey Peace to Mellow and Frost, and the deporte Sen Dog is not kid from the Telano I'm down, another fried hispano One of the many of the latin deseyano [de-say-ahnyo] And I got plenty for the Jennies tryin to hound dog But wait, they're clownin on me cause of my language I have to tell em straight up, it's called spanglish Now who's on the fiend, gala gringo Tryin to get paid, from the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Yeah, funky bilingual! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo! [Sen Dog] From the entro, when I come in, suckers fronted They mida, another bilingual from bein a banga, como ejemplo, check the tempo Ahh, it's that chingonla instrumental Ya no usted, como somos Yo no jovo, I gots the soul dose And you can hear it, in las skonkas Tribal ceremony as the Hill gets stronger Don't be such a leper what chupa la cabeza Hey homes, pass the cervaza Before I have to go and push up on your resa Hmm, she's fine, son que fresca Here homes have a hit of this yesca Deep yo enseno [en-senyo] the lingua la prento Now you know, that I am in the centro Where you live, si tu puedes Nowadays you ain't shit without your puentes Something like it's gangbang, vatos get it BANG BANG Could of hung out with them now you callin me a insane Senta la mi cado, senta mi conmigo Make way, for the the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilinguals hoe! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual It's the latin lingo, baby! Latin lingo baby (funky bilingual) funky bilingual Funky bilingual... Some of that old Latin funk, knowhatI'msayin? [Sen Dog] (What's up homey? Don't you know me?) Si mon (Ain't you the brother of the mas pingo?) Straight up And I'm down with La Raza Kid Frost got my back, BOO-YAA! in la casa Cause everyday things get a little crazier As I step to the microphone area First I claim my city, pudo los angeles [an-heles] Yeah (you know homes) that's where the calles is Vato wouldn't know me, along with the heinas Catchin all them slippin, for they such a one-timer So when you see me at the party or the baile Before I got here I was gaffled in the calle Troop like a vacho who said I was baracho Had an attitude, tried to play me macho Just relax, calmado mijo Sen Dog with the funky bilingual Chorus: B-Real and Sen Dog Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual Latin lingo baby, funky bilingual Funky bilingual... funky baby! Yeah, I'd like to send peace, to my homeboy B-Real Mellow Man Ace, Kid Frost, Ralph M the Mexican And we're out |
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3:46 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Latin Thugs Lyrics
Artist(Band):Cypress Hill Review The Song (0) Print the Lyrics Latin Thugs Lyrics MP3 Downloads Send Cypress Hill polyphonic ringtone to your cell phone Don′t be like, uh, a Cubano Be like el rio stoned marijuano Esta capitan pingolete Swing is here with the force of a machete Kick mad lingo from Spain to Tijuana Real hijo puta homeboy ask yo mama No me importa pinga mi niña All I wanna know que ′ta bueno cinga Don′t be scared echate pa′ ca What′s the play dog homeboy goin′ on Ni**as O.G. straight veterano Master the Spanglish style encojonao Y′all fools know aqui no se juega Don′t act a fool y no rompa las reglas We bien crazy ass asesino Get your guns ready aqui viene peligro [Chorus] Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles, como arriba, andale Prende la mota, yo lo que quiero es pureza Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles They call me papi chulo You know I′m puro I never fade away You see me comin′ get your ass runnin I know you hate away Hit the leño harder than most niggaz you idolize Get it started quicker and hit you before you try to hide Latin thug roll deep pandillero Puro Los Angeles South side ghetto Carpet, car black y perro loco Keep an eye on that fiend, porque yo me la cojo bien pingao, poca lista Saco mi pinga y me chingo la pista Can′t get enough of them L.A. skonka Get a little wild y me como la chocha Listen up compa the big cypress loma Still right here y todavia te controla This ain′t no Telemundo special The homies that I roll with for real will come wet you [Chorus] Hey who the fuck is that Otro negro loco, daddy Y necolado, uno de lo batos malo Mucha mucha bala pa′ los ratones desmaya Que moriran seguro si fayan I ain′t neva scared you heard Otro bobo, esta jodienda yo la controlo Vete manso, vete easy, quedate vivo Como quiera que te ponga lo que hay es castigo Soy vivo latino, pistola, cuchillo Pa′ defenderlo de los enemigos Esto son maligno, no tienen tiqueta ni signo Pero todo dicen lo mismo Siiiimon, Tegon, el de pajon, ese si que un cabron Un majon, blastin′ all these motherfuckers Envidiosos, sapos y chotas Tirale pa′ la cabeza, si se va, no regresa Eh pa′ que su pandilla sepa Otro mas, de circulacion se va papa Y no lloro ni la mama... [chorus] |
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3:46 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Latin Thugs Lyrics
Artist(Band):Cypress Hill Review The Song (0) Print the Lyrics Latin Thugs Lyrics MP3 Downloads Send Cypress Hill polyphonic ringtone to your cell phone Don′t be like, uh, a Cubano Be like el rio stoned marijuano Esta capitan pingolete Swing is here with the force of a machete Kick mad lingo from Spain to Tijuana Real hijo puta homeboy ask yo mama No me importa pinga mi niña All I wanna know que ′ta bueno cinga Don′t be scared echate pa′ ca What′s the play dog homeboy goin′ on Ni**as O.G. straight veterano Master the Spanglish style encojonao Y′all fools know aqui no se juega Don′t act a fool y no rompa las reglas We bien crazy ass asesino Get your guns ready aqui viene peligro [Chorus] Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles, como arriba, andale Prende la mota, yo lo que quiero es pureza Salte con tego Llegaron los mero mero Cuba, Borinquen, Mexico entero Los Angeles They call me papi chulo You know I′m puro I never fade away You see me comin′ get your ass runnin I know you hate away Hit the leño harder than most niggaz you idolize Get it started quicker and hit you before you try to hide Latin thug roll deep pandillero Puro Los Angeles South side ghetto Carpet, car black y perro loco Keep an eye on that fiend, porque yo me la cojo bien pingao, poca lista Saco mi pinga y me chingo la pista Can′t get enough of them L.A. skonka Get a little wild y me como la chocha Listen up compa the big cypress loma Still right here y todavia te controla This ain′t no Telemundo special The homies that I roll with for real will come wet you [Chorus] Hey who the fuck is that Otro negro loco, daddy Y necolado, uno de lo batos malo Mucha mucha bala pa′ los ratones desmaya Que moriran seguro si fayan I ain′t neva scared you heard Otro bobo, esta jodienda yo la controlo Vete manso, vete easy, quedate vivo Como quiera que te ponga lo que hay es castigo Soy vivo latino, pistola, cuchillo Pa′ defenderlo de los enemigos Esto son maligno, no tienen tiqueta ni signo Pero todo dicen lo mismo Siiiimon, Tegon, el de pajon, ese si que un cabron Un majon, blastin′ all these motherfuckers Envidiosos, sapos y chotas Tirale pa′ la cabeza, si se va, no regresa Eh pa′ que su pandilla sepa Otro mas, de circulacion se va papa Y no lloro ni la mama... [chorus] |
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0:47 |
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| from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993) | |||||
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3:43 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Fuck all y'all
I'm comin' of the wall I got a nigga from The Source Swingin' from my balls Ughh! Ya want me to set it Well my MAC-11 takes unleaded Let it rain And jackin' out fire What you're seein' when I'm takin' shit another level higher Now it's on Ain't gettin' domed Buckin' all these niggas 'till they all gone Now we can roll to the east side of town And I'm lookin' for a fat boy and a lotta (state of clown) You better move your ass to this MAC-11 Pointed at your ass for the 1-8-7 "Yeah motherfucker, gonna break your back with this shit. Hey motherfuckas: move back! Yo, B-Real.." I'm the head-hunter You goin' under Make a trophy Call it the two-headed buster On my mantle Back in the temple Givin' up the family Up and down Central Butt bloody Anybody Lookin' for a wide body One body Somebody Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson I ain't fallin' off like Humpty-Dumpty Nigga you still wanna bump me Still got the hand on pump And now I'm thumpin' on 'em Thumpin on 'em See Somebody, anybody scream When I got the gatt with the big red beam Now what if I moved it up right between your eyes Now your chances are never When you're lookin' at the slug at the of the barrel Where ya gonna run when ya can't move further Seven eighty one redruM with the Murder Tie him up Throw him in the trunk Let the funk Blow his earsdrums out 'Till he's bleedin' Then let's get him weeded It's the phunk Buddha Let me do the Ceremony up with the hoota And the shooter Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson Some be testin' Keepin' 'em guessin' Smile on my face Got the Smith & Wesson |
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from Cypress Hill - Black Sunday (1993)
"Oh yeah it is!"
"Colour is not important." Lick a shot! "Oh!" Comin' at ya "Fire!" Zippedy do da, zippedy hey Cried oh my, wanna get that punk with my AK And get on the way On a mission, puffin' on a fat ass jay Prude! You can't hang Flash back on the skills when I used to bang On the corner I'll warn ya Gonna roll on ya Fool Hit ya with a golden rule Don't turn your back on the street When I hit that corner, feel the concrete If ya push that by like nothin' Watch me turn to a psycho all of a sudden Blastin' at these fools with a passion Look at the Glock when it's time for some action Let the gatt hummm Lick a shot! So I let the gatt hummm Let the gatt hummm Lick a shot! So I let the gatt hummm Sunday morning Wake up it's stormin' Raindrops fallin' on my head it's pourin' Cats an' dogs Pigs in a wagon Lookin' for the Afro - one that's saggin' Scooby-Doo An' fucked down too Ploy me Don't let your punk ass try me Gonna take more Then you better call your backup team And wait for the crew I'm the one flippin' Keepin' the clip On my hip an' Just watch your back if you're slippin' Oooo Where did that .22 Come from When the bullet past through my lung I've lost my breath I'm winded I've been hit, by a slug that wasn't intended I hear thunder I wonder If a nigga like me's goin' under Take a number! Let the gatt hummm Lick a shot! So I let the gatt hummm Let the gatt hummm Lick a shot! So I let the gatt hummm Had a bad dream Woke up in a casket Now I can't even get back at the bastard Bull-shit! This pine box Ain't strong enough to contain the Afro Marx Critical bell rings Snapped out the dream What the fuck's up with the funny red beam Pointin' at me I got no strap G What now: gotta duck, they're gonna gatt me Bam, I feel numb Where did the shotgun blast come from Let the gatt hummm Lick a shot! So I let the gatt hummm Let the gatt hummm Lick a shot! So I let the gatt hummm |
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3:17 |
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from Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill (1999)
[B-Real] Yo light one, ignite one, draw me like the buddha You say I'm the joint, but you can call me hooda Computer, wizard, the butcher of scissors Cut me up and spark and roll me up, like a blizzard Dwellin your cells up, lungs start to swell up Your pipe's gettin crowded, yo just forget about it Me, is potent, so bring an opponent You could suck on it, shit I know you wanted to Feel the effects of the high I know you feel the effects of the high Wanna feel the effects of the high, brother? [Sen] B-Real, light another [B-Real] I'm smoked out, not on a menthol cigarette How could you figure, or even, consider that I'm, a weak seed, no, I'm the humble weed ?, hash spliff this tweed actin type of stylin, how do you spell it Take a hit from outta New York into Phillie Hit some Visine, so the smoke can let out Now do you really think you can take the red out and Feel the effects of the high I know you feel the effects of the high Wanna feel the effects of the high, brother? [Sen] B-Real, light another [B-Real] Spliff, aiyya, ?, vaya Why ya, want ta, turn off the fire You can't get higher, when you turn me off and .. aiyyo, pussy stop coughin You're wastin the lingo, soon all the sack's gone He'll take this bounty rhyme for you to stack on Anyway you have it, you love me like Mary Jane or a 40 to the head, like my brother Kenny Wayne You need to inhale, musical paraphen' Yes musical, Muggs fixed the trend Ahhh, just like a head Brain cells get lit, but I'm the joint you can't grip Through, your finger, I'll start to sting ya So just hear my words linger and Feel the effects of the high I know you feel the effects of the high Wanna feel the effects of the high, brother? Yo Muggs, light another! .. [B-Real] Put me in the bamboo, with just a tape deck ? like brother, rewinds the cassette Was it, because it's funky that ya loves it? (Yeah man) Here's another lyric, go puff it Don't choke off, the hype or croak off When you blow the smoke off, hold until I get off or turn off the fat joint, wanna hit that joint Here is the flat point, I rob it at gun point I'm, the High Times, you get through my rhymes Suck on the pipeline, sit back and recline You gotta suck on, the fattie so come on and Feel the effects of the high I know you feel the effects of the high Wanna feel the effects of the high, brother? I'll just, light another [Cypress Hill] Feel the effects of the high I know you feel the effects of the high Wanna feel the effects of the high, brother? Yo, light another You wanna feel the effects of the high? You wanna feel the effects of the high? Wanna feel the effects of the high, brother? Aiyyo, light another You wanna feel the effects of the high? Can you feel the effects of the high? Can you feel it? I feel the effects of the high -- yo can you feel it? Yo light that motherfucker up man I know you feel it |
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3:35 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Verse One: B-Real
Let me introduce my self I'm the one who rules the set So don't you forget Bad for ya health but ya still be tryin' ta push buttons But you ain't nothin', no frontin I bring the level up a little louder In the clubs, an' the jeeps an' the after hours Fools on the street wanna feel the funk Lookin for the 'skunk' that's what'cha want Ya betta, sit back and let the track flow Like smoke in ya lungs from puffin' on the indo Rythems upside'cha brain, can ya hang, can maintain Can ya feel the funk flowin' in ya veins Get'cha fix and ya bag of tricks In tha mix I got the stix and stones a few bricks I'm gonna hit 'em high He's gonna hit 'em low Open up ya mind so that'chu can feel the flow On, an' on till there all gone Fools be runnin' but they won't last long Chorus: I'm the freaka (8X) Verse Two: B-Real People always wanna get what you got, no matta what Can't take care of themselves in the big hunt In the quest for the crown An' the jewels, and the cheese Motherfucker please Enemies wanna plot against me with envy in they hearts But, I rip their sorry ass apart In a minute, I can take ya to the limit Temprature risen, nasal highzen Verse Three: Sen Dog Comin' back in with the lows, for the fows Fuckin' up egos, an' anybody, oppose The numba one skunk freaka, the Cypress Hill cliqua Blowin' a hole in tha speaker You don't wanna dis the Perro, the Real One, or the Werro Slangin' rythems through the ghetto Ya best keep ya ass in cheak Come on little mutha fuckas betta show respect An whats next, the big brown takin' ya down How ya feel (how ya feel punk) When your sorry ass can't hang with the Hill Chorus: 1/2 Outro: B-Real Can ya feel the effects of the chocolate tide Nobody even knows how I kick the flow Slow down, cause ya commin' up too fast Ya might get smacked down cause ya got no class [Fades out] |
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4:37 |
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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2002)
Lowrider"
(feat. Mellow Man Ace) (Mellow Man Ace: repeat 2X) Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der.. (Intro: B-Real + (Mellow Man Ace)) Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby Got that junk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three (low-ri-der) So pop your collar, give a holla, throw yo' dubs in the air We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der) Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight (B-Real) Now when people are done, bumpin they head to this You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this We been makin you bounce, for many years already Rock steady and cut, many niggaz to confetti But I just want to blaze it up; whether it's the mic or a spliff Yes my gift is to amaze you all Thought I couldn't come for ten my friend, but guess what? I slay niggaz and still savin my best nut (low-ri-der) But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when I spit it out and start some flowin I drop rhymes that grow like trees you're smokin Ear drums feel like lungs, your brain's chokin Just let it soak in, seep in, creep in I'm keepin, all you motherfuckers in the deep end (low-ri-der) You wanna trip? Then I got luggage I stuff you in and send you off, cause you ain't rugged (Chorus + (Mellow Man Ace)) Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby Got that junk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street (low-ri-der) We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three So pop yo' collar, give a holla, throw the dubs in the air (low-ri-der) We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der) Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight (B-Real & Sen Dog) Cause, we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us Just get inside, we bouncin dippin, chop it up real tough Lean to the side, pimp yo' hat, tilt yo' seat on back Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack (low-ri-der) (Sen Dog) I be the vato with the fine hoodrat in the ranfla Always roll deep on the streets like the mafia Pleito, just might come back and haunt ya Flossin too much, no vato's gonna want ya Not right here homes, we're past all of that Makin that feria, spittin that raps Ya me conoces, I'm down for my calle Cypress Ave, y a pudo les madre (low-ri-der) Ya tu sabes, we don't play that shit Any pendejo's gettin hit up quick Whassup ese? What hood you claim? Now throw it up and down like it ain't no thang (low-ri-der) Hands in the air with the pinky rings Soul Assassins, runnin everything To all you vatos, make sure you check this In every barrio, I'm well respected (low-ri-der) (Chorus) (Mellow Man Ace: repeat 4X to fade) Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der.. |
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4:37 |
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| from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2002) | |||||
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from Cypress Hill - Lowrider [single] (2001)
Lowrider"
(feat. Mellow Man Ace) (Mellow Man Ace: repeat 2X) Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der.. (Intro: B-Real + (Mellow Man Ace)) Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby Got that junk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three (low-ri-der) So pop your collar, give a holla, throw yo' dubs in the air We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der) Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight (B-Real) Now when people are done, bumpin they head to this You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this We been makin you bounce, for many years already Rock steady and cut, many niggaz to confetti But I just want to blaze it up; whether it's the mic or a spliff Yes my gift is to amaze you all Thought I couldn't come for ten my friend, but guess what? I slay niggaz and still savin my best nut (low-ri-der) But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when I spit it out and start some flowin I drop rhymes that grow like trees you're smokin Ear drums feel like lungs, your brain's chokin Just let it soak in, seep in, creep in I'm keepin, all you motherfuckers in the deep end (low-ri-der) You wanna trip? Then I got luggage I stuff you in and send you off, cause you ain't rugged (Chorus + (Mellow Man Ace)) Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby Got that junk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street (low-ri-der) We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three So pop yo' collar, give a holla, throw the dubs in the air (low-ri-der) We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der) Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight (B-Real & Sen Dog) Cause, we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us Just get inside, we bouncin dippin, chop it up real tough Lean to the side, pimp yo' hat, tilt yo' seat on back Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack (low-ri-der) (Sen Dog) I be the vato with the fine hoodrat in the ranfla Always roll deep on the streets like the mafia Pleito, just might come back and haunt ya Flossin too much, no vato's gonna want ya Not right here homes, we're past all of that Makin that feria, spittin that raps Ya me conoces, I'm down for my calle Cypress Ave, y a pudo les madre (low-ri-der) Ya tu sabes, we don't play that shit Any pendejo's gettin hit up quick Whassup ese? What hood you claim? Now throw it up and down like it ain't no thang (low-ri-der) Hands in the air with the pinky rings Soul Assassins, runnin everything To all you vatos, make sure you check this In every barrio, I'm well respected (low-ri-der) (Chorus) (Mellow Man Ace: repeat 4X to fade) Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der.. |
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3:28 |
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III : Temples Of Boom (1995)
Smokin' MC's like a bowl of Buddha Burnin' in my bong NOW You don't want to step to the rhythm of the funk degrees You'll be a prisoner in the temple of thieves Move it out, just move it on out, no doubt We the number one crew Kickin' more gas niggas out the house Puttin' up an argument, just don't bother `Cause I'll whoop that ass just like I'm your father Take heed to the master's call yes y'all (Bring your cell-phone cause I fade them all) Bullets fly But they don't give a fuck about who dies When you're in the middle of the fuckin' No question, confrontation Nowhere to run from the assassination Let the rain come down Whoops there goes another body on the ground Watch out for G hound It's the undisputed Cypress family Kickin' up dust can you handle us fragilly Growin' inside your mind like a tumour Spreading in your head like a rumor Venomous! I'm from the underground, I take care of business What the fuck is this? Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Suckas come in all shapes sizes and colors Let me get the rope And hang `em `till their fuckin' necks broke Wind passage cut off, now you can't breathe Let me give you what you need A fat dose of the good weed Like a puppet on a string I'm the one controlling your ass With the rough shit here to bring My army grows like the buddha I sold ya Every seed planted is another fuckin' soldier Like the `coup d'etate' Now ya are in the middle of the ambush Stuck in your car They can't find ya At the bottom of the lake Let me remind ya You better be lookin' behind ya It's too late, ain't no one standin' here Hallucination, bees hummin' in your ear Paranoia, dwelling to your dome piece Increase, the level of the terror that move ceased Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Make a move, make a move, every posse make a move Come on Open up the doors for the high funk buddha With the light point the dick can die Rolling with the six shooter Thirty-eight Still shootin' real straight Lookin' for the buster that I must eliminate No surprise As the inches demise Let the four flow As I look him right in the eyes And rip these niggas in half With the (fabergraph) They can't find a path I like the aftermath Still I reign the sect we remain The big bad Cypress Hill, fuckin' niggas up again When I aim I'm scopin' for your brain Brother stay low, cross-hairs break you up the frame Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! Move `em out! Move `em on out! Move `em out! |
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3:33 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Yo, I got this plan to make some money. I want you to keep this shit to yourself.
At 6:15 am the truck pulls out the post office, on Lankershin and Wilsher. Now it makes one stop before it goes to Sacramento, which is a mail drop-off at First Federal Loan and Savings. I did whatever I could to get by Slang dope jack people hands in the sky When you livin’ on the edge yeah homie it’s a high You get caught up in the drama and eventually you die Livin’ in a hard world some are livin’ lies Son you better wise up and open up your eyes Shit it never easy homie people will connive Better have a hustle if you mean to survive Why you’re so greedy can you tell us all why Look homie believe me you’re fuckin’ metal ply For the dollar everybody is a target that’s real Talkin’ is smog you’re fate’s signed and sealed You could be the next one cross ‘em in the path What maybe if you do the math you can avoid the blood bath All the money that we stole too weak to take greed Give it to an honest man the money is still deep Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Fiend for the lean green Never get enough is a mother fuckin’ gangs dream For the love of the cash flow You could live fast and you could die slow Sure but you can bet your ass you believe it ‘Cause niggas that you know try hard to be schemin’ Work hard as fuck for everything to rock You a dead mother fucker ‘fore I get got Fools got game floss and drop names My move’s faster than a runaway train Fuck the world don’t ask me for shit That′s you on your knees and you want some dick Spot a gold digger with a hairline trigger Each move you make the reputation get bigger For the love of the money, pussy, drugs Fools change get all twisted up Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Only if ya better keep your eyes peeled ‘Cause you were talkin’ for jacks and that’s real Whether you rap or do biz or drug deal Homie for the dollar you can get yourself killed He decided to jet it could happen with no discussions Straps of all pain fools fuckin’ eruptin’ For the green little papers jackin’ your neighbors But what if your neighbor put arms in his favor Moved up the heater to mash you punk bitches Don’t wanna earn shit you wanna jack for the riches Nothin’ in life’s for free my nigga learn that You burn someone they might just burn back Scorchin’ niggas to the third degree Auh y’all triggers deserve to be Put out of your misery your history son When your body disappears then the mystery come Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all |
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3:33 |
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from Cypress Hill - Till Death Do Us Part (2004)
Yo, I got this plan to make some money. I want you to keep this shit to yourself.
At 6:15 am the truck pulls out the post office, on Lankershin and Wilsher. Now it makes one stop before it goes to Sacramento, which is a mail drop-off at First Federal Loan and Savings. I did whatever I could to get by Slang dope jack people hands in the sky When you livin’ on the edge yeah homie it’s a high You get caught up in the drama and eventually you die Livin’ in a hard world some are livin’ lies Son you better wise up and open up your eyes Shit it never easy homie people will connive Better have a hustle if you mean to survive Why you’re so greedy can you tell us all why Look homie believe me you’re fuckin’ metal ply For the dollar everybody is a target that’s real Talkin’ is smog you’re fate’s signed and sealed You could be the next one cross ‘em in the path What maybe if you do the math you can avoid the blood bath All the money that we stole too weak to take greed Give it to an honest man the money is still deep Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Fiend for the lean green Never get enough is a mother fuckin’ gangs dream For the love of the cash flow You could live fast and you could die slow Sure but you can bet your ass you believe it ‘Cause niggas that you know try hard to be schemin’ Work hard as fuck for everything to rock You a dead mother fucker ‘fore I get got Fools got game floss and drop names My move’s faster than a runaway train Fuck the world don’t ask me for shit That′s you on your knees and you want some dick Spot a gold digger with a hairline trigger Each move you make the reputation get bigger For the love of the money, pussy, drugs Fools change get all twisted up Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Only if ya better keep your eyes peeled ‘Cause you were talkin’ for jacks and that’s real Whether you rap or do biz or drug deal Homie for the dollar you can get yourself killed He decided to jet it could happen with no discussions Straps of all pain fools fuckin’ eruptin’ For the green little papers jackin’ your neighbors But what if your neighbor put arms in his favor Moved up the heater to mash you punk bitches Don’t wanna earn shit you wanna jack for the riches Nothin’ in life’s for free my nigga learn that You burn someone they might just burn back Scorchin’ niggas to the third degree Auh y’all triggers deserve to be Put out of your misery your history son When your body disappears then the mystery come Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all |
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from With H - Doo Wop (2004)
Yo, I got this plan to make some money. I want you to keep this shit to yourself.
At 6:15 am the truck pulls out the post office, on Lankershin and Wilsher. Now it makes one stop before it goes to Sacramento, which is a mail drop-off at First Federal Loan and Savings. I did whatever I could to get by Slang dope jack people hands in the sky When you livin’ on the edge yeah homie it’s a high You get caught up in the drama and eventually you die Livin’ in a hard world some are livin’ lies Son you better wise up and open up your eyes Shit it never easy homie people will connive Better have a hustle if you mean to survive Why you’re so greedy can you tell us all why Look homie believe me you’re fuckin’ metal ply For the dollar everybody is a target that’s real Talkin’ is smog you’re fate’s signed and sealed You could be the next one cross ‘em in the path What maybe if you do the math you can avoid the blood bath All the money that we stole too weak to take greed Give it to an honest man the money is still deep Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Fiend for the lean green Never get enough is a mother fuckin’ gangs dream For the love of the cash flow You could live fast and you could die slow Sure but you can bet your ass you believe it ‘Cause niggas that you know try hard to be schemin’ Work hard as fuck for everything to rock You a dead mother fucker ‘fore I get got Fools got game floss and drop names My move’s faster than a runaway train Fuck the world don’t ask me for shit That′s you on your knees and you want some dick Spot a gold digger with a hairline trigger Each move you make the reputation get bigger For the love of the money, pussy, drugs Fools change get all twisted up Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Only if ya better keep your eyes peeled ‘Cause you were talkin’ for jacks and that’s real Whether you rap or do biz or drug deal Homie for the dollar you can get yourself killed He decided to jet it could happen with no discussions Straps of all pain fools fuckin’ eruptin’ For the green little papers jackin’ your neighbors But what if your neighbor put arms in his favor Moved up the heater to mash you punk bitches Don’t wanna earn shit you wanna jack for the riches Nothin’ in life’s for free my nigga learn that You burn someone they might just burn back Scorchin’ niggas to the third degree Auh y’all triggers deserve to be Put out of your misery your history son When your body disappears then the mystery come Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar bill y’all Dollar dollar dollar dollar dollar bill y’all |
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3:33 |
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| from CF Top 20 Vol.8 [SONY] (2005) | |||||
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