Tytuł: Checkmate

• Wykonawca: Cypress Hill
• Wyświetleń: 312

[Sen Dog]
  Bout to mash these niggaz man
  Don't come in my backyard motherfucker
  Hahaha, B-Real and the DOG, motherfucker!
  Ha! Yeah
  
  Here we go y'all, that's the nigga head dog
  Lunatic smokin loops, loose in your sector
  Got my eye on em, on the apparatus
  like a bone to a dog, yea you know I gotta have it
  Anywhere you get it shit, and I'ma grab it
  Turn around stares to your face and I jab it
  Drop you, like one of those ill bad habits
  Hunt you, like a hillbilly huntin a rabbit
  Cuttin niggaz up like Muggs on the wheels
  for reals, penetentiary steel
  Pull heads to bed from the choke of a headlock
  Fadin baldheads to perms, even dreadlocks
  BWOY, rudebwoy with me style
  I can get foul or wild, or just cool for a while
  
  [Chorus: B-Real, Sen Dog]
  
  (Checkmate fool!) Hang em high
  Got the live shit, bang em whenever you/he wanna try
  Shoot to thrill, be at the Hill, I/we take em all
  (Checkmate fool!) Wherever the pawns fall
  
  [repeat 2X]
  
  [B-Real]
  Look look punk, every way you get shook
  To the pawn, takin out the rook, off of the book
  Lights get tooken, taken you for Satan
  You can't breathe, no need to look up and see me
  The last hope, when you mellow you call whoever
  For the hype shit, you call the Hill, put it together
  Runnin this game, bringin the same, raw shit
  Over the hills, through the city we come equipped
  to the letter, keepin your temperature down low
  What I reveal, the good shit to heal all souls
  Makin you roll late night, you trippin, my game's tight
  To the new shit I bring, never the same hype
  so PUSH THAT SHIT OFF, get up, don't let off
  No matter how much blood you spit up
  You could never be, fuckin with Greenthumb
  The outcome's specific, you spliff it, collapsed lung
  We hit hard, breakin your guard, you can't tell
  when the bells ring, bustin your shell, the pawn fell
  
  [Chorus]
  
  (Peek-a-Boo, you fuck you!)
  
  [Sen Dog]
  I'ma freak that funk yea slam it in the trunk
  I'ma kill all junk with the suicide clunk
  Ain't nobody came my way, talkin bout
  the Westside of L.A., so whatever
  punk-ass click you claim, you keep bumpin that shit
  and elevate your frame, cause I want that
  big-time, asshole, studio gangsta
  Worth a lot of shit, but that's not the main factor
  
  [B-Real]
  My nigga Sen's rollin again, remember when
  we rocked shows, battlin foes, the time's been long
  Strong with the styles, you ain't hear to win
  Like blood pourin out of the pen, the ink stains
  Slim chance if it gets in your brain, the hot flash
  got you heated with repeated attacks over the tracks
  Smack niggaz up, back niggaz up, hack niggaz up
  Jack niggaz up, hangin the wack niggaz up
  Snowball effect, we rollin the city limits
  Crushin the bitch-ass niggaz with all the gimmicks
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Sen Dog]
  Checkmate fool!