Cypress Hill (feat. King Tee, MC Ren) "Southland Killers"
Intro: [MC Ren]
Yeah, y'all know what the fuck this is MC motherfuckin' Ren up in this bitch nigga Yeah, all y'all bitch-ass niggas out here talkin all that shit We 'bout to drop this motherfucker on y'all like this (*gun being loaded*) Punk ass niggas out here, nigga We some Southland Killers in this motherfucker (*gun is cocked*) (*GUNSHOT*)
[MC Ren] Niggas all acrosss town, up in the suburbs While niggas makin' faces like The Rock on the curb Nigga People's Elbow, the loud-mouthed hold And groupie niggas bangin' for passes to the show (Can I get in?) Big-ass cheques wit' plenty of O's (O's) And hoes wit' big lips doin' what they suposed (yeah) Didn't have shit 'till I started to bust And y'all got shit 'cos of my balls are cussed Ren and Cypress Hill, they ain't liver than us Nigga Legendary Villian, who started the fuss Nigga double glock, cocked, get your shit rocked Get your crib knocked, nigga have that rib popped Under bosses and trouble, they under my rubble Clone motherfuckers, always the villain, like The Hubble Fuck your bubble, I bust them shits Plaques and shit, grab my dick, spit these hits
All, my niggas, do you wanna ride wit' us? (Do ya wanna ride wit us?) (Killers!) Throw your clips up, man we's about to bust (Man we's about to bust) (Killers!) Cy-press, Hill click, yeah we ready for war (Yeah we ready for war) (Killers!) All y'all niggas, better just hit the floor (Killers!)
[King Tee] I'm close to the best thing, on the West Wing Blown out your set, flames when the best sing It's a rep thing, haters feel they chest pain They feel it in they heart, I was there to test things Didn't arrest (?); INSERT INTO `lyrics_raphot` (`id`, `artist`, `artist_id`, `artist2_id`, `feat`, `title`, `article`, `album`, `body`, `wap`, `date`, `publish`) VALUES the bullet-proof vest team These niggas shoot first they they askin (?) names It's less strain It's all real, I bet fame, it's a chess game Wrong move and it's checkmate (That's right) I might sound funny out here But really, niggas get money out here And hey, everyday is sunny out here So listen, don't play dummy out here King try for bust make your whole pack run Stacked enough cash so now I stack guns Fat ones, all cold and black ones Southland Killin', it's just how that's done
[Sen Dog and B-Real] You can try to ride with the Hill, lie on the Hill but when your shit (?) is when die on the Hill We get, hot on the heel, rely on the steel When your paper gets pulled and you design is steeled Like you, signed the deal, or signed over your will [Sen Dog] BUSTERS GET SLAYED...!
[B-Real] ...when you fuck around with Real Take time to feel, what I'm tellin' you hoes (Tellin' you hoes) You couldn't fuck around with me if I was sellin' you blows Just goes to show the incredible skill tell Bitch nigga, now you trapped under my wig well Gettin trampled, DUMPED on and thumped on Scraped on the six-five with the HAND ON THE PUMP SONG
[Sen Dog] Don't even fuck with these Southland grandes We the vatos that run on Los Angeles Call me Mad Dog, if you think you know me If you're not sure then turn around and LEAVE SLOWLY!