I WANNA GET HIGH
Album: Black Sunday Transcribed by: G-Real
Group: Cypress Hill
I want to get high, so high
I want to get high, so high
I want to get high, so high
I want to get high, so high
Well it's the funk elastic
The blunt I twist it
The slammer five
Buddha fine
Funk on your desk, es'
Oh what you missed this
You got the bear witness
Catch a ho', and another ho'
Merry Christmas
Yes I smoke shit
Straight off the roach clip
I roll shit
Fold the blunt
At once
To approach it
Forward motion
Make you sway like the ocean
The herb is more than just a powerful potion
What's the commotion
Yo I'm not joking around, people learnin'
'Bout what they're smoking
My oven's on high when I roast the quayo
Tell Bill Clinton to go and inhale
Exhale
Now you the phunk of the Thai'
When I feel the effects
I want to get high, so high
I want to get high, so high
I want to get high, so high
I want to get high, so high
I AIN'T GOIN' OUT LIKE THAT
Album: Black Sunday Transcribed by: G-Real
Group: Cypress Hill
Let's kick it ese
Comin' out da slums
It's da hoodlums
I'm pullin' my gat out on all you bums
So bring it on when you wanna come fight this
Outlaw, kick ya like Billy Ray Cypress
Hill
Kill
I'll bust that grill
Grab my gat, and load up the steel
And if you wanna get drastic
I'll pull out my plastic
Glock automatic
Synthetic material, bury your blocks 'n' mortar
Headed down to da Mexican border
Smokin' that smelly
Northern Cali,
Gonna put a slug in Captain O'Malley
Ho, hum
Hear the gat come
Boooooommmmmm!
Let me see what you'll do
It's a sin to kill a man
But I'll be damned if I don't take a stand
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
I'm high strung
Click I'm sprung
'Cause I don't live on the hum-drum
Where I'm from the gatts'll be smokin'
I'll be damned if ya think I'm jokin'
Know that I come with the static
Erratic
Four-five automatic
Screamin' at ya
The red lights beamin' at ya
No need to run after the punk that's hooked
In the oven I'm cooked
Dig the grave for the one who got played
Now he's under
Don't make Stevie Wonder
Why
'Cause he'll testify
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
I got to thinkin' "What the fuck is this?"
Lettin' you know I take care of business
Can I get a witness?
To verify when I'm to bring this
Style that makes you ecstatic
Tragic
When I get a pull of the magic buddha
When I roll with my crew
I bet ya One-Time can't find my hoota!
And I'll be hitting with the belt unbuckled
Pig rollin' up but he ain't that subtle
Pulled to the curb
So we exchange a few words
But he got me stirred up
Enough to grab the handcuffs
I'll huff and puff and blow ya head of!"
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out
We ain't goin' out like that
We ain't goin' out like that
"Yeah takin' your disses and dissin' ya right back. This is the Cypress
Hill crew, like main shit. Yo an' I'm talk this damn rappa, eat a bowl
a dick up. There ya go my man over here, you can eat a bowl o' dick up
too. Anybody else need from runnin' away: yo, eat a bowl of dick up G!"
LICK A SHOT
Album: Black Sunday Transcribed by: G-Real
Group: Cypress Hill
"Oh yeah it is!"
"Colour is not important."
Lick a shot!
"Oh!"
Comin' at ya
"Fire!"
Zippedy do da, zippedy hey
Cried oh my, wanna get that punk with my AK
And get on the way
On a mission, puffin' on a fat ass jay
Prude! You can't hang
Flash back on the skills when I used to bang
On the corner
I'll warn ya
Gonna roll on ya
Fool
Hit ya with a golden rule
Don't turn your back on the street
When I hit that corner, feel the concrete
If ya push that by like nothin'
Watch me turn to a psycho all of a sudden
Blastin' at these fools with a passion
Look at the Glock when it's time for some action
Let the gatt hummm
Lick a shot!
So I let the gatt hummm
Let the gatt hummm
Lick a shot!
So I let the gatt hummm
Sunday morning
Wake up it's stormin'
Raindrops fallin' on my head it's pourin'
Cats an' dogs
Pigs in a wagon
Lookin' for the Afro - one that's saggin'
Scooby-Doo
An' fucked down too
Ploy me
Don't let your punk ass try me
Gonna take more
Then you better call your backup team
And wait for the crew
I'm the one flippin'
Keepin' the clip
On my hip an'
Just watch your back if you're slippin'
Oooo
Where did that .22
Come from
When the bullet past through my lung
I've lost my breath I'm winded
I've been hit, by a slug that wasn't intended
I hear thunder
I wonder
If a nigga like me's goin' under
Take a number!
Let the gatt hummm
Lick a shot!
So I let the gatt hummm
Let the gatt hummm
Lick a shot!
So I let the gatt hummm
Had a bad dream
Woke up in a casket
Now I can't even get back at the bastard
Bull-shit!
This pine box
Ain't strong enough to contain the Afro Marx
Critical bell rings
Snapped out the dream
What the fuck's up with the funny red beam
Pointin' at me
I got no strap G
What now: gotta duck, they're gonna gatt me
Bam, I feel numb
Where did the shotgun blast come from
Let the gatt hummm
Lick a shot!
So I let the gatt hummm
Let the gatt hummm
Lick a shot!
So I let the gatt hummm
COCK THE HAMMER
Album: Black Sunday/ Transcribed by: G-Real
Last Action Hero Soundtrak
Group: Cypress Hill
On a chicken-hunt, huntin' for a chicken
Get paranoid when you hear my Glock clickin'
Speakin' to the punk that's tweakin'
With the bitch-ass styles I hit you like Deacon
Jones house, cough without the bones
I rolled ya up and smoked you like cones
Split the seed and grow you like clones
Don't start-me-up, cause I'm not the Rolling Stones
But I get stoned with a little help from my friends
With the (gubla), then I passed it round back to me again
I can make you famous like Amos
Same as the last punk, when I stuck the gatt up his anus
Hear me growl: Grrra! Howl!
I got the night vision just like the wise old owl
I'm comin' ta fetch ya
Yeah home direct ya
Bury them bones
Under my home and
Cock the hammer!
Cock the hammer, it's time for action!
Cock the hammer!
Cock the hammer, it's time for action!
Take my weapon, step into a whole new realm
And step back, as I take up the helm
On the pirate ship I'm steerin'
Droppin' the geran
Just realize what you're hearin'
The cannon sounded
That's my companion: surrounded
As my crew comes bounding
As the captain
Afro-america
Whole lotta gattin'
With the loc'ed out latin
Busted!
You're a red beard with a musket
Better talk quick 'cause ya might get dusted
Your gatt looks rusted, disgusted
Oh look away, look away boy as I rush it
Yes I know that you can't withstand it
Watch that ass cause punk I'll brand it
With a steel-toe, how you feel now
When my boot stuck in that ass like a dildo
Cry on a pillow, weeper that's willow
The Hill got the skill for the static like brillo
Hmmm, what you talkin' `bout punk
Gimme room as I light up the boom
Cock the hammer, wave the white banner
Ever heard a Glock go `click' like a camera?
Cock the hammer!
Cock the hammer, it's time for action!
Cock the hammer!
Cock the hammer, it's time for action!
Cock the hammer!
Cock the hammer, it's time for action!
Cock the hammer!
Cock the hammer, it's time for action!
LIL'PUTOS
Album: Black Sunday
Group: Cypress Hill
"Live and direct"
One little two little three little putos
Tried to jack me they got the boot-o
Taking no shit when push comes to shove
'Cause the niggas showed me no love
Step back punk 'cause I'm a Latino
What I bring you is the hardcore lingo
Funky, but ya don't understand
Now I gotta stand with the Glock in my hand
No scope
And there's no hope
'Cause I'm dishin'
Out my .45 slug and it ain't missin'
Here it comes hissin'
Here it comes hummin' at ya
Now the slug is comin' at ya
One little two little three hoodlums
Gotta hit the ground 'cause here the slug comes
What do you know, click clack goes the gun
Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run
Cuando entro, loonie es el fuerte
Speakin' to the gente
'Cause I'm insane in the mente
Movin' em back, click-click goes the gun
Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run
It's no fun
When I got to break you off some
Of the psycobeta beatdown, boy you get done
Serio
Here we go
Off for the muchacho
Come if you really want some of the chingazo
Me caso you don't hear this little lazo
Cypress Hill, breaking you off a pedazo
Humming at ya
Don't make me come gatt ya
Punk 'cause I still will be comin' at ya
One little two little three hoodlums
Gotta hit the ground 'cause here the slug comes
What do you know, click clack goes the gun
Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run
When I come in, kickin' with a vengeance
Swift of the engines
Coming like the three little indians
Stompin' around on the ground on the plains
'Cause a nigga like me is goin' insane
In the brain
So I gotta maintain
My direction
What I mighta gained
Without my protection
Not a damn thing
So when I come just bring
That new style, break ya off like a chicken wing
Buckooock!!
So you can just suck my cock
Like a fat blunt, stoned is the way of the walk
When I'm peepin'
Checkin' out the punk-ass creepin'
I let the dogs loose then I let the dogs sick 'em
Graaah! Nigga don't make me catch ya
Punk 'cause I still will be comin' at ya
One little two little three hoodlums
Gotta hit the ground 'cause here the slug comes
What do you know, click clack goes the gun
Make 'em run boy, make 'em run boy, make 'em run
HITS FROM THE BONG
Album: Black Sunday Transcribed by: G-Real
Group: Cypress Hill
Hits from the bong
Hits from the bong
Hits from the bong
Hits from the bong
Pick it
Pack it
Fire it up, come along,
And take a hit from the bong
Put the blunt down just for a second
Don't get me wrong it's not a new method
Inhale
Exhale
Just got a ounce in the mail
I like a blunt or a big fat cone
But my double-barrel bong
Is gettin' me stoned
I'm skill it
There's water inside don't spill it
It smells like shit on the carpet
Still it
Goes down smooth when I get a clean hit
Of the skunky, phunky, smelly green shit
Sing my song
Puff all night long
As I take Hits from the bong
Hits from the bong y'all
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hist from the bong
Gonna get high
Let's smoke that bowl
Hit the bong
And then take that finger off of that hole
Plug it
Unplug it
Don't strain
I love you Mary Jane
She never complains
When I hit Mary
With that flame
I light up the cherry
She's so good to me
When I pack a fresh bowl I clean the screen
Don't get me stirred up
The smoke, through the bub-bling water
Is Makin' it pure so I got ta'
Take my hit and hold it
Just like Chong
I get the bowl and I reload it
Get my four-footer and bring it on
As I take Hits from the bong
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Gonna get high
Hits from the bong
Straighten your dick out...
Gonna get high
WHAT GO AROUND COME AROUND, KID
Album: Black Sunday
Group: Cypress Hill
Come on come on
(time for some action)
yeah yeah
(time for some action)
Come on come on
(time for some action)
yeah yeah
(time for some action)
Come on come on
Drunk ass fool
just a punk ass
gonna cause trouble
yeah let me burst that bubble
in a hurry
I ain't happy
so worry
what's a judge
and a punk ass jury
homeboy
Should I'm done to go home
but ya got caught up inside the cyclone
If I go home
I'll get slopped and stoned
When I disconnnect that
fuckin neck bone
WATA!
Then ya get the kick to jaw kid
And I rip out ya eyelids
So you can see
The head nigger at it
killa
Commin when I break on the static
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around
Shit
I get real shit
yo shit
can ya feel it
Carbon copy come steal it
The gatt I conceal it
Under my jacket
Oh where oh where
Do ya think I pack it
Under my belt
when the cards get dealt
to all the players
And though the punk ass fakers
just come
And ya get the high pitched humm
Make ya understand where I'm from
The eastside brown
kid looks around
Put's down tump
it must fall down
It's on
when ya wanna take my pound
punk
what go around come around
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around
(time, time for some action)
check me and I'll check you back
(time, time for some action)
check me and I'll check you back
When they come
with the staic cling
it's not thing
Make ya sing the blues
like B.B. King
I got the roughneck scales
To give awhile
Like a voodoo child
Nuthin but style
Take it
But you can see the black glock clickin
Point my gatt
at the punk ass victims
Step up
Or you can step back
though the doors
You can bring it on
if ya wanna come get yours
But ya betta look ova ya shoulda
Cuz a loss of blood gets the body much colder
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around (go around)
What go around come around, kid (go around)
What go around come around
(time, time for some action)
check me and I'll check you back
(time, time for some action)
check me and I'll check you back
(time, time for some action)
check me and I'll check you back
check me and I'll check you back
HAND ON THE GLOCK
Album: Black Sunday
Group: Cyppress Hill
Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill
Cypress Hill
Crusing through the neighborhood
Some say I'm no good
Claimin I'm a criminal
But lets make it understood
Just one man with a whole lot of homeboys (whole lot)
Ya get the click of the glock
When I pull of the chrome toy
Check me and I'll check you back (check you back)
Then jump back
to my big Buddah
like I'm not a bad guy
But don't take advantage
I'm throwin out the garbage
just show me where the can is
All I was doin was searchin for the boon
Then some punk tried to hit me with a broom
Lucky I ducked quick
Or else I'd be assed up
Last thing I wanted
was have to pull the gatt out
here comes a nigga
And he's got a .38
Well my roundhouse said
hey yo
I'm shootin up straight
Cuz I put away the shotgun
borrow me a glock
Took a little trip to the funky weed spot
tried to jack me
but home got shot
la-la-la-lalala-la!
Understand where I'm commin from
Self defense turns to the offense
(right, were down, were down)
Understand where I'm commin from
Self defense turns to the offense
(right, were down, were down)
Couple niggas from the east side
fuckin up ya program
No one witnissed
But they heard the gun blast
It left the problem unsolved
now I'm gonna sum up
people gettin hurt in the process of the come up
Gotta with the fools
That'll wait for you to run up
Rollin in the hood
That's already shot up
Pocket full of gatts
And see if we can spot the
Homey that's slick
In the process of the dip
When we find this out
Gonna unload the clip!
And take a little trip down to Rio
My neighboorhood's hot and so
I gots to go chill
Cuz I put away the shotgun
borrow me a glock
Took a little trip to the funky weed spot
tried to jack me
but home got shot
la-la-la-lalala-la!
Understand where I'm commin from
Self defense turns to the offense
(right, were down, were down)
Understand where I'm commin from
Self defense turns to the offense
(right, were down, were down)
Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit
Think I'll load a clip
Lets see if you can deal with
Cuz the bulletproof vest ain't shit
When the infrared's
pointin at your head kid
And that's just to bad yo
Now I'm headed up a river in a boat
with no paddle
Shoulda put the glock down (glock down)
Now they got me in lock down
livin' like a nigga whose done lost his mind
Cuz self defense turns to the offense
But nobody even really knows that (knows that)
All they see is me and the gatt
Up in the court room
Lookin at the jury
Starin down the punk ass
district attourney
la-la-la-la-lala-la!
Verdict's in
You're not guilty as charged
When I put away my shotgun
borrow me a glock
Took a little trip to the funky weed spot
tried to jack me
but home got shot
la-la-la-lalala-la!
Understand where I'm commin from
Self defense turns to the offense
(right, were down, were down)
Understand where I'm commin from
Self defense turns to the offense
(right, were down, were down)
(Cypress Hill...)
BREAK 'EM OFF SOME
Album: Black Sunday
Group: Cypress Hill
Through the cross wind, the firing pins
Go click when I duck behind the trash bin
Ran out of ammo, no doubt
My gat is dry, like a fuckin' drought
Gotta rip my way home
Hit the gate and get my chrome
And jammies on
They got me cornered, let me just warn ya
I'll pump this trigger, make your family mourn ya
Boo hoo! Where ya gonna run to
When I pull out the Scooby Doo?
Run - Let me break ya off some
Hit the floor cuz it ain't no fun
But here they come, they must wanna get done
No frontin' - Let me break ya off some
What the fuck, I'm rollin'
In a Mack truck that's stolen
Guess what I'm holdin'?
Ammo to bust my load
Still I'm easin' on down the yellow brick road
Whaddaya know, a pig in a plain brown wrapper
He wanna break me down
I'll hit that corner, let me just warn ya
I'll run yo ass down, make yo family mourn ya
21 gun salute, tryin' to take my loot
Don't make me shoot
I'll hit my blunt and pass you a lump
And punk, let me break ya off some
Got to roll with the self-control
In the green tank when the shit unfold
Hold up - I got it sewn up
Me and my niggas are about to blow up
Got the pigs on my tail
What they get is a hollow point shell
Caught in a cell - Servin' my sentence
Got my apprentice
In da hood - but da nigga is senseless
Out on parole, and the nigga has turned to my foe
Now the punk's gotta go
Punk got shady, wouldn't repay me
Let the punk know that ya still can't fade me
Maybe the fucka would stop
But nothin' could stop me from wantin' to break him off some.