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3:45 | 
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from Cypress Hill, Cypress Hill - It Ain't Nothin' [single] (2010)
I used to carry a glock on the waist line, man, I don't waste time
I'm strong on the bass line, you never will taste mine See me on the screen, fuckers beggin' for face time Get your own tape but don't bother to chase mine I got a block, man, we havin' a great time You couldn't fill the shoes anytime that I lace mine Light up the stage, for the homies we make shine Sick the dogs on you, get more by the K-9 Homies on the yard never walk in the main line The manes find they can never be in the game I'm lettin' off rounds, hittin' blunts at the same time Pick crews, homie, you a neon to save time Bitches like you always spittin' the same rhymes We put you all to shame, you never went through the same grind Put you in the bind from the minute you came by So stay in your lane and get wet by the rain You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Git it, you gotta get your straps up Git it, you gotta get your stash up Git it, you gotta get amped up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up I'm right here on the block When it's time to ride out, you know what I'm all about Hundred Harley bikes on site when it goes down Me and my homies, we always holdin' the fort down Come up in our town and you're pissin' a fourth now Got four ounces and three bottles of Jack Two fifth's in the back and everyone I'm with is strapped Whatever happened to chin checkin' and wreckin' fools? Try disrespectin', my Smith & Wesson is endin' you And I ain't changed since back in the day Get your shit split quick if you get in my face You wanna run with the dog, better stay in your place 'Cause your little ass name don't hold no weight And your little ass safe couldn't hold my cake Get your asses denied down the road I take And let me tell you one more thing before I skate If you a fake or a snake, I'mma send you to your grave You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Git it, you gotta get your straps up Git it, you gotta get your stash up Git it, you gotta get amped up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Backed up, backed up, backed Backed up, backed up, backed Backed up, backed up, backed Backed up and you bound to get hurt I'm a First Staff OG from outta the gutter With a fucked up demeanor for you punk mothafuckas Get played like some dicks who try to start ruckas I'm a real gun busta so don't ever try to rush us Can't nobody touch us that don't leave on crutches Or worse, get a ride in a hearse with their bodies covered It's gonna be a cold summer soon as the hilt drops All bullshit will stop A couple scums in the street, so we don't care what you bustas think It might sink in sometime but I won't blink We go against everything, smoke all the green Got the low wrong swingin', ain't nothing to me We put it down anywhere like it's something to see So all you bitches goin' rogue with your haters degree And when you wanna get loud, son, I'm ready to work Punks act up and you bound to get hurt You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Git it, you gotta get your straps up Git it, you gotta get your stash up Git it, you gotta get amped up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up |
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4:02 |
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from Cypress Hill - Rise Up (2010)
I used to carry a glock on the waist line, man, I don't waste time
I'm strong on the bass line, you never will taste mine See me on the screen, fuckers beggin' for face time Get your own tape but don't bother to chase mine I got a block, man, we havin' a great time You couldn't fill the shoes anytime that I lace mine Light up the stage, for the homies we make shine Sick the dogs on you, get more by the K-9 Homies on the yard never walk in the main line The manes find they can never be in the game I'm lettin' off rounds, hittin' blunts at the same time Pick crews, homie, you a neon to save time Bitches like you always spittin' the same rhymes We put you all to shame, you never went through the same grind Put you in the bind from the minute you came by So stay in your lane and get wet by the rain You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Git it, you gotta get your straps up Git it, you gotta get your stash up Git it, you gotta get amped up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up I'm right here on the block When it's time to ride out, you know what I'm all about Hundred Harley bikes on site when it goes down Me and my homies, we always holdin' the fort down Come up in our town and you're pissin' a fourth now Got four ounces and three bottles of Jack Two fifth's in the back and everyone I'm with is strapped Whatever happened to chin checkin' and wreckin' fools? Try disrespectin', my Smith & Wesson is endin' you And I ain't changed since back in the day Get your shit split quick if you get in my face You wanna run with the dog, better stay in your place 'Cause your little ass name don't hold no weight And your little ass safe couldn't hold my cake Get your asses denied down the road I take And let me tell you one more thing before I skate If you a fake or a snake, I'mma send you to your grave You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Git it, you gotta get your straps up Git it, you gotta get your stash up Git it, you gotta get amped up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Backed up, backed up, backed Backed up, backed up, backed Backed up, backed up, backed Backed up and you bound to get hurt I'm a First Staff OG from outta the gutter With a fucked up demeanor for you punk mothafuckas Get played like some dicks who try to start ruckas I'm a real gun busta so don't ever try to rush us Can't nobody touch us that don't leave on crutches Or worse, get a ride in a hearse with their bodies covered It's gonna be a cold summer soon as the hilt drops All bullshit will stop A couple scums in the street, so we don't care what you bustas think It might sink in sometime but I won't blink We go against everything, smoke all the green Got the low wrong swingin', ain't nothing to me We put it down anywhere like it's something to see So all you bitches goin' rogue with your haters degree And when you wanna get loud, son, I'm ready to work Punks act up and you bound to get hurt You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up Git it, you gotta get your straps up Git it, you gotta get your stash up Git it, you gotta get amped up You wanna run with the dogs, get your cash up |
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3:54 | 
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| from Cypress Hill, Rusko - Cypress X Rusko 01 [ep] (2012) | |||||
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