Layzie Creepin´ up outta the woods, gotta give love to my hood. Smoke, and I choke, and I creep on ah come up. Niggas be tryin´ run up, but I bust, and they drop to their death. Now they done up. Gun up, hunt my blunt up. Creepin´ ´til sun up, feelin´ slightly shady. Call me lightweight crazy #1 nigga little Layzie. Nigga don´t wanna faint, runnin´ deadly thugsta soldiers, droppin´ them thangs. Bone done told you. Testin´ nuts, so a nigga gonna have to show you. Faded a nigga that stepped up, then slipped in some shit. Seen ´em all´s just stood up then put a foot up that ass, had to blast that clique-clique. Sprayed the gauge, all cocked, and ready to spray down to the pave´. Puttin´ them souls up off up in a grave, dwell in hell, they´ll all lay slain. Amazed, must I blaze. It´s insane when I take that bud to the brain. Toke, choke, hold in me smoke until-a-me strained, feelin´ no pain. Better be packin´ your weapon, ´cause my shit is kept and I´m ready to let loose sawed-off hangin´, danglin´ up under the trench,
finna blow that chest through, you should´ve wore a vest fool. ´Cause the Bone don´t front. Nigga check or get wrecked. Got Flesh on the set, with his finger on a TEC. Loc´d out with the khakis and high-techs. Respect them St. Clair thugs hustlin´ drugs, gotta make that money man. Rap be the thang, and the fact remains that we house that rap game.
Bang-bang, gotta get down foe my thang. (Bone be me gang.) [*2]
Flesh Well what do ya know hoes, and the bigger Bone that´s known for gettin´ his swerve on. And kickin´ it on the stage. Off in a raid gettin´ my serve on. So, leave ´em alone. They come. They need to be shown that Bone done chrome-blown, lay slugs up in to them domes, so go on. You´d better go run a ho check, if you wanna test nuts with Flesh, I´m fin´ to lynch ya, mo murda! You´re runnin´ up eye to eye with death. Face to face, now nevertheless you´re takin´ a loss, and this slug snuffed up, and dumpin´ the body up off in a coffin. Remember the vow said a preacher, me teach ´em, greetin´ ´em with me nine. Runnin´ with thugs and hustlas and murderin´ ´em every time.
Layzie Bang-bang, gotta get down foe my thang. (Bone be me gang.) [*4]
Bizzy Remember the Ripsta, sinster creeper, rippin´ up that set with a street-sweeper. Gotta take a breather from sippin´ me liter. Rippin´ that flesh when I sneak with a meat cleaver. When I´m in me smugsta, never the studio thugsta. Buck ´em! Buck ´em! Muthafuck ´em. Thug never done bluff and fuck them bustas. So back up off me. No Stack won´t let me slip. When a nigga start to step, then wet ´em, put ´em in the graveyard. Bitch, better buy your vest, then test Rest, the Ripsta quick to pick up the hollow points and put ´em up in your brains, nigga. My little nigga, Mo! Hart, my bigger nigga, Sin. Dash fast, get ´em up with the block at last blast they ass, pass cash, then stash, me can killa for free for homies and family. Tell ´em to see me, that realer nigga, the Ripsta, put ´em in rivers. It don´t stop. Drop P´s to the S-C-T´s and double glock. Pop, pop! Here´s the slug from the twelve-gauge thug. You don´t want fuck with, nor buck with, Rip´s breakin´ on bustas. Blood, me feelin´ ´em like it hurts. Me murder
. I show no mercy. Turn your back, clack back me gat, diggin´ ´em in the dirt, see?
Krayzie Get ready to duck, bitch, or get fucked up! They never could fuck with me sawed-off pump. Bitch if I´m flippin´ or load my clip in, nigga, y´all all fucked. Gotta make my money, slippin´ me pump in me trench, and then click it. Now, nigga this rippin´, steady clippin´, not missin´, thuggin´ with me clique. And now Leathaface takin´ your life so you best stay back, tossin´ the rest in a coffin, ´cause niggas be runnin´ up, talkin´ trash. Buck a guard while walkin´ past. Bang-bang, gotta get down foe my thang, and I claim and hang with thieves. Niggas that make cheese for the green leaves. Gotta give P´s, ´cause they swang these. Come nigga, meet my hood and found nothin´ but thugs and hustlas. Sin never been no busta, he´ll stuff and buck-buck ´em and dump ´em, bitch. Nigga, muthafuck ´em! Krayzie don´t love ´em, put ´em to rest and run so the po-po don´t catch up. Nigga can´t be arrested. One M-11, me sendin´ niggas to hell, and you´re felon, 187. Eleven dwellin´ better from the cell, and nigga that pick up M
ossberg, the quicker you get to the curb. Put one to the temple. Pump to Mr. Policeman, that´s all you heard.
Layzie Bang-bang, gotta get down foe my thang. (Bone be me gang.) [*4]
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang?
Gotta get down foe my thang, gotta get down foe my thang [*13]