Once again the powers of the herb open up the mind,
Seek deep inside, tell me what you find,
Come on...
[B-Real:]
Who be the ones steppin' in the room,
Everybody welcome to the temple of boom,
Back, let me see ya fat indo sack,
And get weeded, somebody, everybody need it,
Mari-Juana, Mari-Juana, do ya wanna,
Give me love when I put the flame on ya,
Homie I'm the one with the shotgun,in the closet,
Next to the fat bags full of chronic,
Puto, don't ya be steppin', with ya hands open,
Askin' me "can I get a hit of what t'cha smokein'",
I aint got no kind of love for a brother,
Who comes to the party, with no bud,
I be smokein' this, indo-blazin', funk buddah,
Everybody, wanted it, now they talk about the hooter,
Up until the summer of '91,
Wasn't no mutha f*ckas talkin' 'bout smokein' blunts,
From the west coast to the east coast,
Everybody be braggin',
But , I'm the one who be puffin' most,
First it started with the nickel, then the dime,
Then the Twenty, spendin' up all my money,
Now, I roll with the nelco(?),
With the pound in the pad smokein' up the indo,
Just take a deep breath (Ahh),
Hit it then pass it to the left,
You can keep the mutha f*ckin' stress,
Smoke it up, just puff it up, (O yea),
Light it up, then put your spliff up in the air,
Do you wanna spark another owl?
Do you wanna spark another owl?
Everybody spark another owl.
Everybody spark another owl.
I wanna spark another owl.
I wanna spark another owl.
Do you wanna spark another owl?
Do you wanna spark another owl?
[Sen Dog]
Yea, stroll the ways of the buddah mastas, brings me to the
temple of boom, I see people everywhere startin' to understand the
point, when I'm talking about the joint, talkin' 'bout that marijuana,
talkin' 'bout the sense, talkin' 'bout the kind mota boca loa-loa
maui,maui, lugers of work- ready, mexican greenba, cheeba, cheeba y'all,
yeska, humble pound weed, the crypt, the choclate tide, the afgani, the
meefrakan, the indo, the skonka, the bad breath sense (cough).
Hello everyone, I'm Kurt Loaded, we're here at Hemp TV, with
Cypress Hill in Amsterdam we're listening to their new album, I'm
stoned, I'm outta here, Goodbye folks.
Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III: Temples of Boom Album Lyrics
Cypress Hill - Cypress Hill III: Temples of Boom Lyrics
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Throw Your Set In The Air
[B-Real]
I got nothin to lose, I'm goin all out
The deuce never stop, I refuse to play by the rules
Uptight, when you steppin into the night, right
Pigs comin up and shinin the bright light
Nothin better to do, than f*ck with the pride
when you hide behind your badge, your gun and ride
Billy club show me no love, think you above
all the fuss and the locs is rushin in too close
Let me lay it on the table, forget stable
Freak niggaz, comin to slay to the label
You got nothin to lose, come on choose
Stay away from niggaz that bring down your crew
Whatever it takes, you make or break yourself
with the wealth or the chance to stay in good health
Sword blade swingin you back off away
and the track off the real, straight off the Hill
What the deal motherf*cker?
Chorus: B-Real, Sen Dog
I got nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Nothin to lose (You gonna fall out) Time run out
(I'm goin all out) Nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Lightin the fuse to the bomb (better run out)
Nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Nothin to lose (You gonna fall out) Time run out
(I'm goin all out) Nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Lightin the fuse to the bomb (better run out)
[Sen Dog]
I'm goin all out, showin y'all what I'm about
Gettin in your mental, knockin niggaz out
Takin this pencil, across the brain
Ain't stoppin there til the rhymes all drained
all out my system, take em, and then I twist em
Put em out one day and see, who wanna diss em
As you fold I'll sting ya, run up and you bitch up
Y'all get the picture, just call Mr. Excitement
Comin with the thunder and lightning
Shit is quite frightening how niggaz keep biting
So I keep the writing, down for the fighting
Cold with the flows, they both quite exciting
And let me take space up, heat your face up
I'm goin all out, before the raise up
Chorus
Come on, come on
[B-Real]
I'm goin all out, nothin to lose, you better roll out
Sold out, niggaz be livin in times run out
In the present smell the prescence of what you stressin
You get sent a lesson ain't missin the point blessin
Expression, feelin the tension over the session
The question, fillin your body with intention
Don't mention the profession, keep adressin
The real motherf*ckers in the crowd pay attention
I'm goin the f*ck out, Smith and Wesson
You better stall me out, no extension
Only the strong will ever be settin the pace
When you look up I'm gone and never left a trace
No worries, set you with flurries and no juries
Eight million stories in the city of furies
Don't get the twist, you listen or get the fist
I got nothin to lose so I gat fools with this
Chorus
[Sen Dog]
Oh yeah, Cypress Hill massive once again
Comin to your record shop
Check this out, we ain't takin no prisoners
We choppin heads off
And you steppin at me, you better be goin all out baby
This is war baby, from now until the new m-m-mm-mm-millelnium
I got nothin to lose, I'm goin all out
The deuce never stop, I refuse to play by the rules
Uptight, when you steppin into the night, right
Pigs comin up and shinin the bright light
Nothin better to do, than f*ck with the pride
when you hide behind your badge, your gun and ride
Billy club show me no love, think you above
all the fuss and the locs is rushin in too close
Let me lay it on the table, forget stable
Freak niggaz, comin to slay to the label
You got nothin to lose, come on choose
Stay away from niggaz that bring down your crew
Whatever it takes, you make or break yourself
with the wealth or the chance to stay in good health
Sword blade swingin you back off away
and the track off the real, straight off the Hill
What the deal motherf*cker?
Chorus: B-Real, Sen Dog
I got nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Nothin to lose (You gonna fall out) Time run out
(I'm goin all out) Nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Lightin the fuse to the bomb (better run out)
Nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Nothin to lose (You gonna fall out) Time run out
(I'm goin all out) Nothin to lose (I'm goin all out)
Lightin the fuse to the bomb (better run out)
[Sen Dog]
I'm goin all out, showin y'all what I'm about
Gettin in your mental, knockin niggaz out
Takin this pencil, across the brain
Ain't stoppin there til the rhymes all drained
all out my system, take em, and then I twist em
Put em out one day and see, who wanna diss em
As you fold I'll sting ya, run up and you bitch up
Y'all get the picture, just call Mr. Excitement
Comin with the thunder and lightning
Shit is quite frightening how niggaz keep biting
So I keep the writing, down for the fighting
Cold with the flows, they both quite exciting
And let me take space up, heat your face up
I'm goin all out, before the raise up
Chorus
Come on, come on
[B-Real]
I'm goin all out, nothin to lose, you better roll out
Sold out, niggaz be livin in times run out
In the present smell the prescence of what you stressin
You get sent a lesson ain't missin the point blessin
Expression, feelin the tension over the session
The question, fillin your body with intention
Don't mention the profession, keep adressin
The real motherf*ckers in the crowd pay attention
I'm goin the f*ck out, Smith and Wesson
You better stall me out, no extension
Only the strong will ever be settin the pace
When you look up I'm gone and never left a trace
No worries, set you with flurries and no juries
Eight million stories in the city of furies
Don't get the twist, you listen or get the fist
I got nothin to lose so I gat fools with this
Chorus
[Sen Dog]
Oh yeah, Cypress Hill massive once again
Comin to your record shop
Check this out, we ain't takin no prisoners
We choppin heads off
And you steppin at me, you better be goin all out baby
This is war baby, from now until the new m-m-mm-mm-millelnium
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Stoned Raiders
1 for trouble, 8 for the road
7 to get ready when I'm lettin' off all my load
Funk, Buddha Monk, in the trunk
I got'cha, thumpin' so hard, up and down the boulevard
I'm a natural-born cap-peela', strapped illa
I'm the west coast settin' it on, no one's reala'
Get'cha fix of the uncut funk
A small dose of the skunk weed like it's suppose to be
Move it up, just move it on out, what'cha talkin' 'bout son
I got the first shot, and it's all over now, one nation under a groove
Smoke a pound for the strict of it, every time I make a move
Smooth and togetha, raw like leatha, ain't goin' out like a punk, neva
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
It's the numba one money maker
Money takea, few steps back I'm on a plane to Jamaica
Puffin' a fat wada, talk shit
For the fool I'm thinkin' about, I got the ruff shit
Hard rock bone breaka, Stoned Raider
In the Temple of Boom, assert to assume
Never be lettin' shit slide, no way
Bitch niggas can hide but, I'll find they ass some day
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Wherever you are, put'cha muthaf*ckin' spliff in the air
Some dogs, like you gotta pair
When I kick to the metro, lone clip, be lookin' around
'Cause this shit ain't over with yet
People can't understand my situation
Now they caught up in the Soul Assassination
Fool, just take cover, it's all over
When I break ya off a chunk of this muthaf*cka
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
7 to get ready when I'm lettin' off all my load
Funk, Buddha Monk, in the trunk
I got'cha, thumpin' so hard, up and down the boulevard
I'm a natural-born cap-peela', strapped illa
I'm the west coast settin' it on, no one's reala'
Get'cha fix of the uncut funk
A small dose of the skunk weed like it's suppose to be
Move it up, just move it on out, what'cha talkin' 'bout son
I got the first shot, and it's all over now, one nation under a groove
Smoke a pound for the strict of it, every time I make a move
Smooth and togetha, raw like leatha, ain't goin' out like a punk, neva
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
It's the numba one money maker
Money takea, few steps back I'm on a plane to Jamaica
Puffin' a fat wada, talk shit
For the fool I'm thinkin' about, I got the ruff shit
Hard rock bone breaka, Stoned Raider
In the Temple of Boom, assert to assume
Never be lettin' shit slide, no way
Bitch niggas can hide but, I'll find they ass some day
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Wherever you are, put'cha muthaf*ckin' spliff in the air
Some dogs, like you gotta pair
When I kick to the metro, lone clip, be lookin' around
'Cause this shit ain't over with yet
People can't understand my situation
Now they caught up in the Soul Assassination
Fool, just take cover, it's all over
When I break ya off a chunk of this muthaf*cka
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1, 2, Cypress groove
Writer: LOUIS M. FREEZE, LARRY MUGGERUD, SENEN REYES
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Illusions
Some people tell me that I need help
Some people can f*ck off and go to hell
God damn, why they criticize me
Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me
F*ck 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
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions drivin' me mad inside
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' me up in my mind
Muthaf*ckas 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 f*cked 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 f*ckin' round wit the gauge or a rope
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions drivin' me mad inside
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' 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
Some people can f*ck off and go to hell
God damn, why they criticize me
Now shit is on the rise so my family despise me
F*ck 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
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions drivin' me mad inside
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' me up in my mind
Muthaf*ckas 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 f*cked 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 f*ckin' round wit the gauge or a rope
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions drivin' me mad inside
I'm havin' illusions I'm havin' illusions f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' 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
Writer: Gil Evans, Louis Freese, Larry Muggerud
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, NOEL L SILVERMAN
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, NOEL L SILVERMAN
Killa Hill Niggas
"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 f*ck 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 sequencecrab 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
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 f*ck 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 sequencecrab 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
Writer: LOUIS M. FREEZE, ROBERT F. DIGGS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Boom Biddy Bye Bye
[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.......
[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.......
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE, SENEN REYES
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
No Rest For The Wicked
Bitch ass motherf*cker
You that pie ass nigga
Stand on your own two feet bitch
And the f*ck you gon' buy somebody else's dick
Nigga, yo, as it long enough to put in your mouth
Turn that shit up louder
What's up wit that shit?
Yo Muggs, make it rough
So many fools swingin' from my sack
Let's talk about the one who had my back
Down in the west coast, so lemme kick it
To the motherf*cker who calls himself 'Wicked'
No rest, no peace! No sleep
Doughboy rolling down the hill 'cause it's so steep
Jackson, lemme figure out the name
Jack 'cause you be stealing other niggaz game
But I'm the wrong nigga you wanna f*ck with
On my dick so hard, that ya wanna suck it
Go on the head, gobble up the nuts
Get your lips ready and tear this motherf*cker up
Talk about Ezy, correct yourself
Cube, better step back and check yourself
Let's talk about this
First solo album on the east coast dick
The east coast niggaz all showed ya love
Especially the one known as the 'King Sun'
He tried to warn us niggaz aboutcha
But nobody would listen, even but then dissin'
Two albums later, you callin' my crew
All because ya wanna be Cypress Cube!
Shoulda known you couldn't hang in the alley
Good boy went to school, out in the valley
F*ck it, lemme make this understood
Speakin' on mama's little boys in da hood
No vaseline, just a rope and a chair and gasoline!
Lench Mob is a friend of mine
But you talk about them niggaz from behind
You know what the Hossack is, O'Shea?
A motherf*cking pig, that don't fly straight
Where ya gonna run to? Where ya gonna hide?
Taadow! Look at who's running outside!
Natural born bullshitta! Lemme hitcha
With a dose of reality when I get witcha
Your homie [Incomprehensible]
Put a pipe on the cover, even though you don't smoke Buddha
Let me take you down under on a plane
Where everybody was going insane
Took a look at the real one
Afro Comb! The next morning you didn't have yours on
How many ways will you bite my shit?
Would ya wet me or start throwing up a set?
Caution, when you enter the zone
Never used to bang 'til you heard the microphone
I got Cube melting in a tray
Pulling up his card and f*cking up his good day
Unoriginal rap veteran, the nigga who say
He don't steal from his friends
Don't trust that nigga named O'Shea
F*ck him, and send him on his way
You that pie ass nigga
Stand on your own two feet bitch
And the f*ck you gon' buy somebody else's dick
Nigga, yo, as it long enough to put in your mouth
Turn that shit up louder
What's up wit that shit?
Yo Muggs, make it rough
So many fools swingin' from my sack
Let's talk about the one who had my back
Down in the west coast, so lemme kick it
To the motherf*cker who calls himself 'Wicked'
No rest, no peace! No sleep
Doughboy rolling down the hill 'cause it's so steep
Jackson, lemme figure out the name
Jack 'cause you be stealing other niggaz game
But I'm the wrong nigga you wanna f*ck with
On my dick so hard, that ya wanna suck it
Go on the head, gobble up the nuts
Get your lips ready and tear this motherf*cker up
Talk about Ezy, correct yourself
Cube, better step back and check yourself
Let's talk about this
First solo album on the east coast dick
The east coast niggaz all showed ya love
Especially the one known as the 'King Sun'
He tried to warn us niggaz aboutcha
But nobody would listen, even but then dissin'
Two albums later, you callin' my crew
All because ya wanna be Cypress Cube!
Shoulda known you couldn't hang in the alley
Good boy went to school, out in the valley
F*ck it, lemme make this understood
Speakin' on mama's little boys in da hood
No vaseline, just a rope and a chair and gasoline!
Lench Mob is a friend of mine
But you talk about them niggaz from behind
You know what the Hossack is, O'Shea?
A motherf*cking pig, that don't fly straight
Where ya gonna run to? Where ya gonna hide?
Taadow! Look at who's running outside!
Natural born bullshitta! Lemme hitcha
With a dose of reality when I get witcha
Your homie [Incomprehensible]
Put a pipe on the cover, even though you don't smoke Buddha
Let me take you down under on a plane
Where everybody was going insane
Took a look at the real one
Afro Comb! The next morning you didn't have yours on
How many ways will you bite my shit?
Would ya wet me or start throwing up a set?
Caution, when you enter the zone
Never used to bang 'til you heard the microphone
I got Cube melting in a tray
Pulling up his card and f*cking up his good day
Unoriginal rap veteran, the nigga who say
He don't steal from his friends
Don't trust that nigga named O'Shea
F*ck him, and send him on his way
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Make A Move
{"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides
By the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men
Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and goodwill
Shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness
For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance
And furious anger those who attempt to poison
And destroy my brothers
And you will know my name is the Lord
When I lay my vengeance upon thee"}
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 f*ck about who dies
When you're in the middle of the f*ckin'
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 fragilely
Growin' inside your mind like a tumor
Spreading in your head like a rumor
Venomous, I'm from the underground
I take care of business, what the f*ck is this?
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Suckas come in all shapes sizes and colors
Let me get the rope and hang 'em 'till their f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' soldier
Like the 'coup d'etat', 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 out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(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, f*ckin' 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 now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
{Ah, now that the mind is open so one can clearly see
What they don't want you to see
But it's obvious, isn't it my brother?
Get the smoke from in the front of your eyes
Got to realize, anybody don't like it, move 'em out now}
By the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men
Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and goodwill
Shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness
For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance
And furious anger those who attempt to poison
And destroy my brothers
And you will know my name is the Lord
When I lay my vengeance upon thee"}
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 f*ck about who dies
When you're in the middle of the f*ckin'
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 fragilely
Growin' inside your mind like a tumor
Spreading in your head like a rumor
Venomous, I'm from the underground
I take care of business, what the f*ck is this?
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Suckas come in all shapes sizes and colors
Let me get the rope and hang 'em 'till their f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' soldier
Like the 'coup d'etat', 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 out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(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, f*ckin' 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 now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
Move 'em out, move 'em out now
(Move 'em out)
{Ah, now that the mind is open so one can clearly see
What they don't want you to see
But it's obvious, isn't it my brother?
Get the smoke from in the front of your eyes
Got to realize, anybody don't like it, move 'em out now}
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Killafornia
[B-Real]
Living in the city of the Scandalous
Shisty motherf*ckers, 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, f*ck off and die!
Jealous, envious fools want to rush this
Loco, trooping ass nigga with the cash, shit
Motherf*ckers 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
[Hustlers]
--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 motherf*cking 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
[B-real]
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 f*cking 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?
[Hustlers]
--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!
[B-Real]
Where can I choose to get my hustle on?
In the alleyway, lighting up all night long
F*ck 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 motherf*cker in the city Los Scandalous
[Hustlers]
--Well, well, little man came up a little bit
--It feels good having money in the pocket
--F*ck that nine to five bullshit, right?
--Yeah, kick that shit to the curb
--But you got to look out for the scandalous motherf*ckers
Cuz niggas is tricky than a motherf*cker
--Yeah, but motherf*ckers 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 f*ck out of here"
Living in the city of the Scandalous
Shisty motherf*ckers, 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, f*ck off and die!
Jealous, envious fools want to rush this
Loco, trooping ass nigga with the cash, shit
Motherf*ckers 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
[Hustlers]
--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 motherf*cking 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
[B-real]
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 f*cking 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?
[Hustlers]
--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!
[B-Real]
Where can I choose to get my hustle on?
In the alleyway, lighting up all night long
F*ck 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 motherf*cker in the city Los Scandalous
[Hustlers]
--Well, well, little man came up a little bit
--It feels good having money in the pocket
--F*ck that nine to five bullshit, right?
--Yeah, kick that shit to the curb
--But you got to look out for the scandalous motherf*ckers
Cuz niggas is tricky than a motherf*cker
--Yeah, but motherf*ckers 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 f*ck out of here"
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Funk Freakers
Let me introduce myself, 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
Rhythms 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 you can feel the flow
On, an' on till there all gone, fools be runnin' but they won't last long
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
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
Motherf*cker 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
Temperature risen, nasal highzen
Comin' back in with the lows for the fows
F*ckin' 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' rhythms through the ghetto, ya best keep ya ass in cheek
Come on, little mutha f*ckas betta show respect
An what's next, the big brown takin' ya down
How ya feel, when your sorry ass can't hang with the hill
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
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
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
Rhythms 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 you can feel the flow
On, an' on till there all gone, fools be runnin' but they won't last long
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
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
Motherf*cker 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
Temperature risen, nasal highzen
Comin' back in with the lows for the fows
F*ckin' 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' rhythms through the ghetto, ya best keep ya ass in cheek
Come on, little mutha f*ckas betta show respect
An what's next, the big brown takin' ya down
How ya feel, when your sorry ass can't hang with the hill
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
I'm the freaka
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
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Locotes
You don't wanna turn your back on me
When you least expect it, I come with a wicked method
I'm creepin' on ya, think bout your homeboys bleeding on ya
It's the the locote coming out the bote
I got a new jale jacking in the noche
Give me your feria
In your pocket or they'll carry ya
Off and bury ya in the Eastside area
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
The thievery don't stop 'til I get done
Sometimes I don't even need my gat
But shit's getting deep and I gotta
Blast back 2 thievery 1 robbery 1 robbery
'Cuz jacking is my hobby
Give me that money, jewelry and your keys
To the five-o outside on deez
Later, out with the '85 Mustang
One-time got me on the radar
Trucha, and you don't stop 'til I'm done
Now the puercos got me on the run
You don't wanna turn your back on me
When you least expect it, I got your keys
In my possession with my Smith an' Wesson
Taking out all my aggression
Check it out, you're looking at the jefe
Of that clique with the big bad trece
I teach you a lesson, no question
Get your ass out now you're passing out
When you look at the cuete
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
The robbery don't stop 'til I get done
Some niggas do this shit for fun
Now the puercos got me on the run
From barrio to barrio
Looking for anybody, oh Cesario
Hanging out with Mario
Looking for a place to hide on the West side
Spank got my back over there right
And it don't stop 'til I'm done
Now the one-time got me on the run
One-time's not down with us
Now they're lookin' for my ride, but I'm on the bus
Don't turn your back on a vato like me
'Cause I'm one broke motherf*cka in need
Desperate, what's going on in the mente
Taking from the rich and not from my gente
Look at that gabacho slipping borracho from the cerveza
He's sipping, no me vale, madre
Gabacho pray to your padre
This is for the time you would give me the jale
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
This ol' motherf*cker, got him a gun
Bla-on, took one to the kneecap
Things happened so fast now I dropped my strap
Now I'm about to meet my maker
I thought I had it all, figured it out for the paper
No longer will I be runnin'
Last thing I heard was the f*ckin' gat hummin'
When you least expect it, I come with a wicked method
I'm creepin' on ya, think bout your homeboys bleeding on ya
It's the the locote coming out the bote
I got a new jale jacking in the noche
Give me your feria
In your pocket or they'll carry ya
Off and bury ya in the Eastside area
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
The thievery don't stop 'til I get done
Sometimes I don't even need my gat
But shit's getting deep and I gotta
Blast back 2 thievery 1 robbery 1 robbery
'Cuz jacking is my hobby
Give me that money, jewelry and your keys
To the five-o outside on deez
Later, out with the '85 Mustang
One-time got me on the radar
Trucha, and you don't stop 'til I'm done
Now the puercos got me on the run
You don't wanna turn your back on me
When you least expect it, I got your keys
In my possession with my Smith an' Wesson
Taking out all my aggression
Check it out, you're looking at the jefe
Of that clique with the big bad trece
I teach you a lesson, no question
Get your ass out now you're passing out
When you look at the cuete
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
The robbery don't stop 'til I get done
Some niggas do this shit for fun
Now the puercos got me on the run
From barrio to barrio
Looking for anybody, oh Cesario
Hanging out with Mario
Looking for a place to hide on the West side
Spank got my back over there right
And it don't stop 'til I'm done
Now the one-time got me on the run
One-time's not down with us
Now they're lookin' for my ride, but I'm on the bus
Don't turn your back on a vato like me
'Cause I'm one broke motherf*cka in need
Desperate, what's going on in the mente
Taking from the rich and not from my gente
Look at that gabacho slipping borracho from the cerveza
He's sipping, no me vale, madre
Gabacho pray to your padre
This is for the time you would give me the jale
4 and 3 and 2 and 1
This ol' motherf*cker, got him a gun
Bla-on, took one to the kneecap
Things happened so fast now I dropped my strap
Now I'm about to meet my maker
I thought I had it all, figured it out for the paper
No longer will I be runnin'
Last thing I heard was the f*ckin' gat hummin'
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE, SENEN REYES
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Red Light Visions
Break that shit off nigga
Look at all the M.C.'s trying to get down
But all you get is a peeled back dome cap
I'm not the one to be having that shit
All these punk niggas better bow down and submit
Niggas don't know how to keep it real
Only if you niggas know the real deal
F*ck all the bullshit Cypress Hill
Comes raining on your brain bringing the blood stains
Smeared on the sidewalk one mark dome
Of the prejudice skull hanging in my home
Straight to you dome sucker
So what you wanna do fool
The Big Game hunter f*cking shit up
Get your ass back down the Hill's on the cut
Who'll get in the circle let's see if you're raw
Hardcore last vato might hit the f*cking floor
Glocks and sicks in them one clip
For any buster who wanna flip
Back ese saypring shining in your eye
Soul of an assassin until I die
Red light visions in your dome piece
Nightmares running through your head won't cease
Look at you now broke down and done
No competition can ever get none
Straight flip flop nigga flip flop
On your punk ass until you drop
(Cypress Hill, coming at your grill)
You're nothing but a motherf*cking time
Clock Cypress motherf*cking Hill
(F*ck how you feel)
It ain't but another piece to the puzzle fool
Look at all the M.C.'s trying to get down
But all you get is a peeled back dome cap
I'm not the one to be having that shit
All these punk niggas better bow down and submit
Niggas don't know how to keep it real
Only if you niggas know the real deal
F*ck all the bullshit Cypress Hill
Comes raining on your brain bringing the blood stains
Smeared on the sidewalk one mark dome
Of the prejudice skull hanging in my home
Straight to you dome sucker
So what you wanna do fool
The Big Game hunter f*cking shit up
Get your ass back down the Hill's on the cut
Who'll get in the circle let's see if you're raw
Hardcore last vato might hit the f*cking floor
Glocks and sicks in them one clip
For any buster who wanna flip
Back ese saypring shining in your eye
Soul of an assassin until I die
Red light visions in your dome piece
Nightmares running through your head won't cease
Look at you now broke down and done
No competition can ever get none
Straight flip flop nigga flip flop
On your punk ass until you drop
(Cypress Hill, coming at your grill)
You're nothing but a motherf*cking time
Clock Cypress motherf*cking Hill
(F*ck how you feel)
It ain't but another piece to the puzzle fool
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Strictly Hip Hop
I neva rapped on an R&B record, and I neva will
I got these phoney mothaf*ckas, talk about lets keep it real
But, they don't know how to take they own advisement
Going out, do it solo on an advertisement, commercializing
F*ckin' sell out, nigga, this is hip-hop, not fashion
Get the hell out
I'm taking out these so called gangsta niggas
Takin' pictures, modeling clothes for small figures
And I neva took another f*ckin' MCs shit
And made it my first single, for a hit
F*ckin' hypocrite, you can get the dip, when I lick a shot off
I'm gonna, and all of it
It's a damn shame when you got all these fools in the record industry
Sellin' out for the fame
I just sit back and watch these fools with their gimmicks
Go down in flames, in the big game
Zippidey-dooda, I smoke weed and I got brain damage
But, I don't give a f*ck 'cause I still manage
To represent to the fullest
No pop singles, and no actin' foolish
To the studio gangsta with the articles
In them magazines with the bitch editors
Keep it real in the game
Niggas got no shame
Now all the executives want all the fame
Based on the videos, just a gang of silly hoes
For the f*ck 'em industry that's taken all ya dough
I neva stole it, stole it all
Just hard work, and sweat, for them platinum records on the wall
Fools want me to fall
I won't 'cause my roots are to thick and strong
Like the chocolate-tastic
I hear niggas say no, but, I know they front
'Cause after they shows they want me to smoke a blunt
I don't respect a hypocrite, mothaf*ckas I despise
Cause me I tell the truth, even when I tell a lie
All you brothas in the game run a check
'Cause you get checked f*cked off, with no respect
Mothaf*ckas
I got these phoney mothaf*ckas, talk about lets keep it real
But, they don't know how to take they own advisement
Going out, do it solo on an advertisement, commercializing
F*ckin' sell out, nigga, this is hip-hop, not fashion
Get the hell out
I'm taking out these so called gangsta niggas
Takin' pictures, modeling clothes for small figures
And I neva took another f*ckin' MCs shit
And made it my first single, for a hit
F*ckin' hypocrite, you can get the dip, when I lick a shot off
I'm gonna, and all of it
It's a damn shame when you got all these fools in the record industry
Sellin' out for the fame
I just sit back and watch these fools with their gimmicks
Go down in flames, in the big game
Zippidey-dooda, I smoke weed and I got brain damage
But, I don't give a f*ck 'cause I still manage
To represent to the fullest
No pop singles, and no actin' foolish
To the studio gangsta with the articles
In them magazines with the bitch editors
Keep it real in the game
Niggas got no shame
Now all the executives want all the fame
Based on the videos, just a gang of silly hoes
For the f*ck 'em industry that's taken all ya dough
I neva stole it, stole it all
Just hard work, and sweat, for them platinum records on the wall
Fools want me to fall
I won't 'cause my roots are to thick and strong
Like the chocolate-tastic
I hear niggas say no, but, I know they front
'Cause after they shows they want me to smoke a blunt
I don't respect a hypocrite, mothaf*ckas I despise
Cause me I tell the truth, even when I tell a lie
All you brothas in the game run a check
'Cause you get checked f*cked off, with no respect
Mothaf*ckas
Writer: David Gamson, Erick Sermon, Larry Muggerud, Louis Freeze, Parrish Smith, Roger Troutman
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Let It Rain
F*ck all y'all, comin' of the wall
I got a nigga from The Source
Swingin' from my balls
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 'til 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 motherf*cker, gonna break your back with this shit
Hey motherf*ckas move back, yo, be real
Come back, come back yeah
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 the pump
And now I'm thumpin' on 'em, thumpin' on 'em, see
Somebody, anybody scream
When I got the gat 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 eardrums out 'til 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
I got a nigga from The Source
Swingin' from my balls
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 'til 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 motherf*cker, gonna break your back with this shit
Hey motherf*ckas move back, yo, be real
Come back, come back yeah
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 the pump
And now I'm thumpin' on 'em, thumpin' on 'em, see
Somebody, anybody scream
When I got the gat 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 eardrums out 'til 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
Writer: LARRY MUGGERUD, LOUIS M. FREEZE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Cypress Hill III: Temples of Boom is the third studio album by Latin-American hip hop group Cypress Hill. It was released on October 31, 1995, by Ruffhouse and Columbia Records. It was the first album to feature Eric Bobo as an official member of the group.
The album featured a stylistic change, as the group turned towards a darker, tranquil, slower, and spookier sound with their beats. The album went Platinum in the U.S. with 1 million units sold.
Performed By:
Cypress HillThe album featured a stylistic change, as the group turned towards a darker, tranquil, slower, and spookier sound with their beats. The album went Platinum in the U.S. with 1 million units sold.
Genre(s): West Coast hip hop, Latin hip hop, alternative hip hop, hardcore hip hop
Producer(s): DJ Muggs, RZA
Length: 55:54
Released: October 31st, 1995
Year: 1995