*featuring MC Eiht
|
|
[MC Eiht]
|
Geeyeah, Soul Assassins two times, stick em!
|
Geeyeah, Cypress Hill three times, come on!
|
Geeyeah..
|
|
Infiltration be our daily operation for chasin
|
Cross the seven seas eased, clockin much conversation
|
Penetration, you know we gets busy, no hesitation
|
Greenery, hand-picked, from my own plantation
|
Feels the heat, under the som-brero
|
to any amigo that's tryin to, stop the dineros
|
Chills with, senoritas, like charro
|
Get drunk off tequila lay low til tomorrow
|
Follow, my flow, get the cash and go
|
Call my homey B-Rizzy in Mexico City
|
Loose lips sink ships, faker faces got guilt
|
Didn't mean to call you late, I need a hideout til..
|
cool, homey, I'll bring some fuckin skunk
|
The homey smuggle me across lines in a trunk
|
Just like a bird I'm free, in a land
|
with no fuckin extradition treaty, I'm out, geyeah
|
|
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" [2X]
|
"With the crew from off the Hill"
|
|
[B-Real]
|
B-Really killin the Phillie now can you feel me from the
|
Soul Assassin committee, the shitty niggaz never thrill me
|
You silly bitches never respect, neglect money
|
You funny or broke, think it's a joke, your nose is runny
|
Got my main man, Mr. Rocho kickin the vocals
|
from the Eastside, where it's loco sellin the poco
|
From the two G's, breakin the leaves of cheese, makin the bacon
|
You hear it sizzle got your hands ready for the takin
|
Evading the pigs, raiding my crib, I'm mad lib
|
and I wanna live and I'm givin the message droppin the lesson
|
Flippin shit, and I'm keepin em guessin they all stressin
|
Hit the lullaby, no confession, we in session
|
|
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" [4X]
|
"With the crew from off the Hill"
|
|
[MC Eiht]
|
We's beez the three amigos, skates with nickel plates
|
under the seat and we goes East Coast/West Coast, anybody killer!
|
Soul Assassins gets the cash and smash *vroom*
|
Who spits the Glocks like uno and dos?
|
Makin your body dissapear like a ghost
|
One time's tryin to gaffle me, harassin me
|
tryin to send me to the penetentiary
|
|
[B-Real]
|
In the nighttime, niggaz are creepin you fuckin sleepin
|
And the beat, just keeps on seepin into the street
|
While you peakin I'm meetin and greetin the people speakin
|
and leadin the motherfuckers who's seekin to catch, ruckus
|
Meaning you suckers no-luckers overdub us, nut hug us
|
You love us, you can't stop, these mad audio hustlers
|
|
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" [5X]
|
|
-----------------
|
Prelude To A Come Up
|
| Cypress Hill |
