Y´all ready for this?
Ha! I don´t think so!
Yeah! Oh, listen to this!
We gonna come at ya!

[Redman]
Cypress Hill!
Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel
A dog on four paws spittin´ out the window
Jump up! It aint no need to fight
We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight
I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm
I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms
Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone
My bracelet like I raised it off the farm
Home-grown, thick, dirty
My family feud dudes who pack 2´s on survey
Jersey and house
Gun like an elephants snout
Pull ya ambulance out
Ya whole team´ll get bombarded
Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists
We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber
Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers
I won´t leave till the job is done
Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN
Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill
Yeah!

[Chorus: B-Real]
We don´t give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die
You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high
You won´t be real with us, but ya reelin´ us and you want to ride
You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high

[Method Man]
Yo, yo
Blunt smokin´, half a bottle of remi open
You either holdin´ or half-assed like Simmy Colan
I leave ya chokin´ on them lollipop rhymes ya callin´
So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin´
If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick
Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch
Ya know if I can´t eat, ya can´t sleep
Plus I´m in denial, I just can´t admit defeat
My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked
Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper´s nerves shocked
Now who´s hot and who´s not
I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks
Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture
I´m gone, Kodak can´t even frame the riddler
Gold realin´, Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller
Whoever think they fuckin´ with that, lets be realer

[Chorus]

[B-Real]
Take the back seat and smash beats
Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes
Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet
With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko
They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn´t think of
I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly
You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley
You twisted up, burnt out within seconds
Cos you couldn´t hang with the John Blaze methods
Bong hittin´, doc spittin´, shark bitten
Star stricken, glock clickin´, stop shittin´
Inhale the smoke from the master´s lungs
You wanna roll up, yo I´m the fastest one (ha!)
You wanna test with the sess, well first off
That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off

[Chorus X2]