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Y all ready for this?
Ha! I don t think so!
Yeah! Oh, listen to this!
We gonna come at ya!

[Redman]
Cypress Hill!
All my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel
A dog on four paws spittin out the window
Jump up! It aint no need to fight
We may squeeze too tight, you gonna bleed tonight
I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm
I walk the streets with sharp (?) off my arms
Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone
My bracelet like I raised it off the bomb
Home-grown, thick, dirty
My family few dudes who pack tools on survey
Jersey and house
Gun like an elephants mouth
Pull ya ambulance out
Ya whole team ll get bombarded
Ya on target, and bonged by some unsigned artists
We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber
Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers
I won t leave till the job is done
Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN
Doc with the shotty and we both catch a (?) with Cypress Hill
Yeah!

(Chorus: B-Real)
We don t give a fuck, we living up till the day we die
You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high
You won t be real with us, but ya reelin us and you want to ride
You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high

[Method Man]
Yo, yo, yo
Blunt smokin , half a bottle of remi open
You either holdin or half-assed like Shimmy Coaling
I leave ya chokin on them lollipop rhymes ya callin
So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin
If the shoes fit like Alan (?) did
(?) Yo my new chicks a new bitch
Ya know if I can t eat, ya can t sleep
Plus I m in denial, I just can t admit defeat
My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked
Bust mines off tops, leave the rappers nerve shocked
Now who s hot and who s not
I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks
Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture
I m gone, Kodak can t even frame the riddler
Gold realin , Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller
Whoever think they fuckin with that, lets be realer

(Chorus)

[B-Real]
Take the back seat and smash beats
Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flex ya brain cells like athletes
When a track meets the rhymes on ya rap sheet
With a foot long (?) bong, look your collapsing, sicko
Thincho, on the brink of mental breakdown and shit you wouldn t think of
I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly
You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley
You twisted up, burnt out within seconds
Cos you couldn t hang with the John Blaze methods
Bong hittin , doc spittin , shark bitten
Star stricken, clock clickin , stop shittin
Inhale the smoke from the master s lungs
You wanna roll up, yo I m the fastest one (ha!)
You wanna test with the sess, well first off
That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off

(Chorus) X2

Come on bartender
Won t you be more tender
Give me two shots of whiskey
And a beer chaser
Love will be the death of me
Love is so fickle
Cause it starts with a flood
And it ends with a tr-tr-tr-tr-tr-tr-tr-tr-trtrickle

Come on bartender
Just a little more tender
I ate all your peanuts
Return me to sender
I ve been...

Non fiction don t believe me that chances I have to take betrayal
at its best is always second guessed

Try I am healing the pressure so give me a reason now it s been so
long and I ve waited I ve been waiting for so long don t fight it s
hard...

Nie będę śpiewał o tym że cię kocham
Albo o tym że właśnie mnie rzuciłaś
Albo że chcę cię zdobyć w ten czy inny sposób
A ty nie jesteś mi przychylna
Choć tak bardzo się staram
Wiem że tak właśnie można zajść daleko
Nagrać płytę rozpocz¹ć promocję w telewizji
Ludzie...

From side to side
Can t get no sleep
The music just annoys
Sentences on repeat

Standing between the cold
And the warm
Opens and closes his eyes
Standing between the dark
And the light
Grey an 18 degrees

Wakes up but doesn t know if
He slept
Opens his eyes but doesn t know if
They were closed
Got a message on his...

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