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CYPRESS HILL lyrics - Skull & Bones

Worldwide

Original and similar lyrics
[Verse 1: Sen-Dog] You better hope I'm chained up, shackled with a yard I'll snatch you by the neck, bide you like a tech Wreck fools when I disconnect, make you sweat Shit your pants, get in yuor step on my advance Catch a glance of the legendary brother who carries Your body and buries two more lyrics in styles varied Fool what You ain't got nothin' to say I been backin' up east side LA, all day Blowin' up the best techs, the best flex Havin' the best sex, fuckin' in Wessex The hardcore shit, I know you like it raw 'Cause ain't no other Dog breakin' the last straw [Chorus (2x): B-Real] You better bounce, nigga, smoke an ounce, nigga 'Cause you rollin' with the Hill and what counts is uh, Can you hang with us You wanna bang with us Cypress Hill, worldwide, Los Angeles [Verse 2: Sen-Dog] I don't bark, I just bite, mangle and maim niggas up Check your strap, they mangle us and pick us up Fool, now you tremblin', I give you three seconds To break out before you resemblin' a dead man A hole through your headband My gat's in my right hand, my plug's in my left hand, punk Cypress Hill worldwide, you just a local Don't anger me, or you can hear it in my vocal You don't want that strap on my hip To deal out, the repercussions dug a fat lip I'm buckin' at the room soon to the boom Fuckin' with your head like the 'shroom you consume [Chorus] [Verse 3] [BR] Bitches, you're all thick-eyed, a weak ride I take money-money, make dummies all night Use the mic, bruise the mic, we choos the mic When you sorry niggas go off and lose the mic [SD] We choose a life right, we roll with crew tight See the light at the end of a tunnel - a gat barrel Wettin' up your flyest apparel, a cane ray You forget me and I'll be back to refresh your fuckin' memory Remember me now, Cypress Hill soldier Up and down the boulevard, big money folder You bring descript sequence with no defense The whole defense hittin' the bones while you sleepin' [Chorus]

Respect

Notorious Big "Ready To Die"
[Verse 1] Nineteen-seventy somethin', nigga I don't sweat the date My moms is late so I had to plan my escape out the skins, in this world of fly girls Tanqueray and Hennessy until I cold hurl Ten months in this gut, what the fuck I wish moms'd hurry up so I could get buck wild, juvenile rippin' mics and shit New York New York, ready for the likes of this, uh Then came the worst date, May 21st 2:19, that's when my momma water burst No spouse in the house so she rode for self to the hospital, to see if she could get a little help Umbilical cord's wrapped around my neck I'm seein' my death and I ain't even took my first step I made it out, I'm bringin' mad joy The doctor looked and said, 'He's gonna be a Bad Boy' [Verse 2] Now I'm thirteen, smokin' blunts, makin' cream On the drug scene, fuck a football team Riskin' ruptured spleens by the age of sixteen Hearin' the coach scream at my lifetime dream, I mean I wanna blow up, stack my dough up So school I didn't show up, it fucked my flow up Mom said that I should grow up and check myself before I wreck myself, disrespect myself Put the drugs on the shelf Nah, couldn't see it Scarface, King of New York, I wanna be it Rap was secondary, money was necessary Until I got incarcerated--kinda scary C74-Mark 8 set me straight Not able to move behind the great steel gate Time to contemplate, damn, where did I fail All the money I stacked was all the money for bail [Verse 3] Ninety-four, now I explore new horizons Mama smile when she see me, that's surprisin' Honeys is tantalizin', they freak all night Peep duckin' cops on the creep all night As I open my eyes and realizin' I changed Not the same deranged child stuck up in the game And to my niggas livin' street life Learn to treat life to the best, put stress to rest Still tote your vest man, niggas be trippin' In the streets without a gat Nah, nigga you're slippin' If I'm pimpin on The F with weed on my breath Original hustler with the muffler on the Tec Respect to the Mac's and the Ac's To the freaks in the Jeeps, lick shots to my peeps

The Dying And The Dead

Aus-Rotten "...And Now Back To Our Programming"
Thiry thousand auto workers have gone to work to find That they've been downsized form the assembly to the unemployment line The employed seeking job security content with what employers give Thinning out the job market keeps the workers competitive The upper one percent receive the tax breaks, social program cut's commence Educational funds take a back seat to America's defense These education cuts are an investment in the prison industry An occupational restructuring towards a slave labor economy The chance of survival on death row disappears,theirright to appeal is deprived Worker strength and solidarity depletes with union officials bribed Raising taxes to build sports stadiums while the homeless are ignored Refusing to supply the health care benefits most people can't afford The newly founded citizen review boards' members are all police The gap widens between the cost of living and the inflation increase Those in power own the media machine it's the vehicle to their views They bury all of their corruption under fluff reported news They bombard us with statistics to influence public opinion The more ridiculous the lie the more people seem to listen It's the people with no money that are responsible for the rest of us being poor We'll just eliminate the welfare system to even up the score Our conditions never imporve no matter how many programs we stop The money always seems to circulate back to the people at the top The occasionl whining criticisms keep the public satisfied The rest are busy escaping reality with drugs the CIA supplied It's always the most oppressed who easily fall victim to ignorance Even with all that they've been through they still pledge allegiance To their country and flag that has caused all of their grievous pain Patriotism leads to natonalism which in turn proceeds to fascism Poor and working class people are the tools of sick corporate perseverance Shit on little puppets exploited in the trials of human dominance But still the pride goes on blindly and in so-called freedom they gloat Waving the flag but cursing the politicians they think they elect when they vote Behind the trails of our peacekeepers lie the dying and the dead There are millions of starving chilren that are waiting to be fed Because executive orders demand that economic sanctions are applied If they'd have bowed down to our pressure, relief may have just arrived As the worlds only super power we rule without regret We don't let these children survive and grow up to be a threat Love of this country is based on nothing but the fear of living somewhere worse And gratitude shouldn't be the reaction to someone else being slaughtered first

We Fly High (Remix)

JIM JONES
I wear a mean dark pair a shades (You know we can't have one a nothing) (So we had to double up) You can't see my eyes unless my head is bent Dipset. REMIX!!!! [Chorus:] We fly high, no lie, you know this (balling!) Foreign rides, outside, it's like showbiz (ladies) We stay fly, no lie, you know this (remix) Hips and thighs, oh my, stay focus [Jones] PC blowticious, Lamborghini, it's audicious From Harlem to Hollywood I'm still hood, 500 horses stuffed in my Ferrari hood Fuck niggas talk 'bout MC's on my hills Hip hop was dead and killer gave me the will Black car fever got this nigga feeling ill It's the shop for a now nigga giving out deals (It's all about the Benjamen's baby) I'm flying off Lennox, in the Bentley all crazy The roof top as I am showing my ass, I brought New York back ya niggas ain't got a chance [Chorus] [T.I.] I ain't gonna' lie I'm fucked up, Phil died and we all sad The only one thing gonna get us by and that's the ball game, Then buy me a lonely crib 50 on the dog tag, Cracks on the deal that's twenty mill And you thought I have gone mad, now I had to gone Grab the speeder at the red light, Blue florescent head light, you better get your bread right, You ain't a baller, you chase checks I check write, even when I got a dark outside I bet my neck bright [Diddy] Hey ya hold up, pick a restaurant Chows or Chin Chin Now pick a car, which one I ain't been in, Pick a watch as long as the hand spinning Pick an actress which one I ain't swim in The yachts still on the deck Retirement plan I dropped it on her neck I'm still spending old money, Benjamen's remix 10 Year gold money motherfuckers [Chorus] [Birdman] 500 on the Bentley, 50 g's on the Caddy, 100 gs on my bar 'Cause we boat living large Doing my thing with this uptown swang Nigga get it how we live like money ain't a thing I be stunning on them things everytime you see me Swang everytime you see me hang Best believe I got that thing. Pop up at the club nigga show them hoes love 'Cause they know we make it rain so they show us gangster love [Young Dro] It's like I'm skating on ice like Christie Yamaguchi Sit up in the Chevy eating blowfish sushi 550 mint colored Benz me and Jin with the back camp twins blowing our flutie Hair real block 'cause you know we getting coofy, iceberg drop nigga now riding goofy, 28 inches in the air, know I'm balling 'cause my whole Wrist pink and my neck kinda blue (dro) [Chorus]

I Got The Power

P. DIDDY "No Way Out"
Verse One: Styles My click is in it til it's over, never sober Bustin over, layin Elaine with the cane and the Rover Pray to Jehovah, for the nigga with the Ruger The young Don, the Heron mover You know my hustle, I bring the fo' pound to the tussle Motherfuck your pit with no muzzle So chill cuzo, let me blow for my niggaz Runnin round, get down like motherfuckin gorillas Shorty bop the wolop, in the spot with the dollop Pot full of acid, I got the game mastered Move dimes, hit twenties addicted to gettin money It could be a hundred degrees and never look sunny Black I'm tryin to live, somethin got to give But everyday's the same old, runnin from po-po Mom think I'm loco, cause I sell crack and puff cocoa Yo, it's the style see it's still the same And when worse comes to worse, I steal the cane Papi know my face, so he don't expect it Runnin from the gutter so he gots to accept it Stripped his ass naked, then I put a slug in him He just another motherfucker, ain't no love in him I put a bug in him, never sleep on one who never slept I take my last breath every time I hit the meth It's the D to the E, M to the O N Blowin, steady playin shotgun, throwin Don't you see the shorty with the baseball cap Don't make me flip motherfucker with this baseball bat Best to brace yo' gat, 'fore I brace mine, cause I lace nine From yo' dome to yo' motherfuckin spine Chorus: Puff Daddy I be, that nigga that yo' niggaz can't fuck wit That nigga that yo' bitches wanna creep wit That nigga that you can't get along wit Playa hate but you wanna do a song wit That nigga that you see in the videos That nigga with the jewels and the jiggy hoes That nigga that'll die for his main man That nigga with the gettin money gameplan Verse Two: Jadakiss Haven't you heard that Bad Boys move in silence yet When you increase the peace, the mo' wild it get I'm only sizin you niggaz from the waist up And I ain't, wettin no parts you can't touch with makeup Mr. Jacob without the Ladder It don't matter clap your wake up and do a shakeup nobody badder, since the, baby finksta I was in the playpen wai-tin for kids to enter Shit I even blitz the rich to get chips Housekeeper disguised with the nine bubble grip Extra clip in the vacumn if I slip Room service ring the alarm and get the bomb Blown the hall pearl wide bill long gone Plus I got the power to ramshack, you dig that Worldwide while you simply thought where you lived at Chorus Verse Three: Sheek You don't really wanna get involved, with the L-O-X car Tellers, Goodfellas, that's who we are You can't outsell us, it ain't shit you could tell us Jealous dog, cause we spread like relish Bad Boys, and we all eat together When it go down, then we draw heat together Since I made the connection with the big man I done got big plans, to be a little nigga in the big Land Ghetto star, presidential all gift wrapped And what you call weight, I know cats who sniff that Enjoy life, what are you sayin If the DA ain't got a nigga payin, papi got him weighin Anything to do with money you can count J in Next time we bring it to these faggots we ain't playin Cream of the crop, and we ain't never gonna stop Hittin you in your head with that butter from The Lox Chorus (fades)

Long Island Sound

JAMES MCMURTRY "Complicated Game"
New Mexico’s lost in the back streets of Austin Carolina keeps all her thoughts to herself Tennessee’s tight and he will not stop talking Somebody shush him ‘fore I have to myself I wrote that verse for the kids but I never did sing it I filed it away and forgot it in time My old guitar sits in the back bedroom closet Next to the closet the shotgun I got when I was nine If I had any sense I’d be way ‘cross the Whitestone I might as well sit here a while ‘fore I start Cause when the 5:30 rush hits the cross-island parkway It’s not for the squeamish of the gentle of heart I’d be stuck on the bridge in the right land at sunset Watching the boats with their snowy white sails Watching the sun sinking over the projects Laundry hung out of the balcony rails And where are you now my long secret love Where have you gone in your glamorous life Where are you now as the moon comes a-rising Are you somebody’s love, are you somebody’s wife And these are the best days These are the best days Y’all put your money away I’ve got the round Here’s to all you strangers The Mets and the Rangers Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound I don’t know what goes on in those crumbling brick buildings They’re on the same planet in a whole ‘nother world I got a bay boat and a 401k Two cars in the driveway, two boys and a girl It doesn’t seem long since we came up from Tulsa Been here six years and I reckon we’ll stay The company’s not bad as the companies go They still got the health plan and they’re raising my pay And the kids all play soccer like nobody’s business My grandma says we’re just letting ‘em fall through They don’t go to church and we’re not gonna make ‘em They all drop their R’s like the Islanders do And these are the best days These are the best days Y’all put your money away I’ve got the round Here’s to all you strangers The Mets and the Rangers Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound I remember her singing from that dusty old hymnal Smelled like tobacco from granddaddy’s pipe That old rugged cross ’til she took down the shingles You’ve never heard such a noise in your life I had a tire run low so I dug through the glovebox I needed the manual to locate the jack Found a couple old picks and a 20 gauge shuttle Left from a dove hunt a couple years back And these are the best days These are the best days Y’all put your money away I’ve got the round Here’s to all you strangers The Mets and the Rangers Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound New Mexico’s lost in the back streets of Austin Carolina keeps all her thoughts to herself

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