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Tytuł: No rest for the wicked

  • Wykonawca: Cypress Hill
  • Wy¶wietleń: 273

  
   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 motherfucker who calls himself wicked
  No rest, no peace, no sleep
  Doughboy rolling down the Hill 'cause it's all steep
  Jackson, lemme figure out the name
  Jack 'cause you be stealing other niggaz game
  But I'm the wrong nigga you wanna fuck with
  On my dick so hard, now ya wanna suck it
  Go on the head, gobble up the nuts
  Get your lips ready and tear this motherfucker up
  Talk about Eazy, correct yourself
  Cube better sit back and check himself
  
  "Yeah nigga, my homie thought he had a homie in you. He let you listen to
  our muthafuckin' cut, and you turned around and put some old variety shit
  out. What kind of shit is that? Hmmm..."
  
  Let's talk about this
  First solo album on the east coast dig
  The east coast niggaz all showed ya love
  Especially the one known as the King Sun
  He tried to warn us niggaz about ya
  But nobody would listen
  Even began dissin'
  Two albums later, you callin' my crew
  All because ya wanna be Cypress Cube
  Shoulda known that you couldn't hang in the alley
  Good boy went to school out in the valley
  Fuck it, lemme make this understood
  Speakin' on Mama's little 'Boys in the Hood'
  No Vaseline
  Just a rope and a chair and gasoline
  Lynch Mob is a friend of mine
  But you talked about them niggaz from behind
  You know what the hossack is O'Shea
  A motherfucking pig that don't fly straight
  Where ya gonna run to, where ya gonna hide
  Taadow, look at who's waitin' outside
  
  "I got a can of kick-ass wit' your mothafuckin' name on it cube. You wanna
  come collect it, or should I bring it to you? `Cause all that bullshit you
  doin', ain't shit fly about that shit... motherfuckin' thing, and I ain't
  bullshittin'. You beat them back then fuck off, and that's real. Kick
  rocks buster."
  
  Natural Born Bullshitta
  Lemme hit ya
  With a dose of reality when I get wit' ya
  Your homie came knockin', he had to chain my suit
  You put a pipe on your cover, even though you don't smoke buddha
  Let me take you down under on a plane
  While everybody was going insane
  Took a look at the Real one: afro gone
  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 hit the microphone
  I got Cube melting in a tray
  Pulling up his card and fucking 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
  Fuck 'im, and send him on his way!
  
  "Cypress muthafuckin' Hill, the hardest mothafuckin' posse there is out here
  nigga. So how d'you figure you was gonna step to this? Yeah nigga, the big
  damn-wham-bam Cypress Hill. Tibby-tibby-toe fool, all for your mothafuckin'
  dope. Nigga you can't hang with the hill. W' the fuck you was thinkin'
  about? You know you step to this, you gotta step correct, `cause Cypress
  ain't havin' that shit. Yeah nigga, we crack and fuck you next, who gives a
  fuck, a mad fuck? So bring it on, if you wanna test it."