Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up.../ Twelve gauges bust up in ya/ Playa haters, we be quick to pin ya/ You know we know, you don't wanna roll, cause when we give it to ya, we're gonna bring it to ya / Oh, yeah
-Layzie Bone-
Right off the jump, ooh, now I gotsta let you know when you see me runnin', rollin' with them big shotguns, and we deep when we creep, never sleepin' and we droppin' them whammies on fools, who wanna get dumb and numb/ Now, that you know like that/ These niggas come around, they don't know how to act/ In fact, I'm at the track in the back with a couple of my cats in the hood, smokin' weed and up to no good, Red Dog in the trunk, and we rollin' that bag of slang/ Now bail on over to your thugs, so me and the rest of these thugs can marinade, marinade/ We straight get high, so high, that's how my mental, that's how my mental state is like, parlay, parlay, like everyday/ Don't think I don't pin playa hation, but ya better pinnin' yourself, or contend with the M-11, .357 automatic weapons from my shelf/ And niggas wanna take my health and wealth, check yourself, tryin' to contend, but they couldn't win/ Kid took it to the head with a fifth of Hen, now we in the wind, Five-hundred Benz-O, we roll, roll/ Drop the top, and lock the locks, cock the glock, bout to hit this corner, livin' like a thug on the real/ Who's stronger when I put it on ya, on ya?/ All playa haters goners
-Krayzie Bone-
Murder, mo murda, mo murda, mo murda them all/ They fall, they fall/ Buck, buck/ Oh, yeah/ Niggas, they hate us, they pissed off, and uh, hater fucked with the wrong muthafuckas/ They fuck with it, when we buck, bitch/ Ooh, we got somethin' to put you back into your trunk quick. Hey, that fo'-fo' magnum, gon' handle 'em, ain't no nigga badder, .357 put that ass in a matter of execution/ I'll be shootin' while you runnin' off at your mouth/ You plot me, 'cause you watch me (Watch me, watch me)/ My nigga, we know what you're thinkin' 'bout/ But bitch, if you run up and try me, I'm comin' up outta my shit with some shit that be keepin' you runnin' and wonderin' whatever hit him, it sure did lit him up good/ And you still find me, where? (He know, he knows fo’ sho)/ East 99, drugdealers and po po, yeah, that's the Clair/ Mo murda, murda mo, and that's Cleveland, Cleveland/ You know we thuggin' and theivin, theivin/ If somebody got beef, we got Milli’s done made/ I’m rollin’ directly for ya, see my nigga, we plan ‘em with nothin' to lose/ And bitch, if ya try me, everybody, midless bloody bodies, tryin' to get outta the room/ If I could just look up and see haters dyin... and flip up my mind, whenever you think I'm quiet, I get plots on the riot, riot, bang/ That's the way ya get 'em, man: (Get 'em, man; get 'em, man) sneak up on 'em, and you kill 'em, and they won't fuck with ya no more/ You havin' a party, indo, weed goin' up in your body/ Smokers, chill/ My niggas, they done got me sloppy high, oh, so, so high
-Wish Bone-
Come on, come on, don't be shy/ Let's get high
-Krayzie Bone-
We got the herb
-Wish Bone-
If you want some, want some/ We got weed, indeed, you need some, need some? Aw, yeah/ I know this just might sound crazy, but lately gotta roll with my gun, 'cause the haters they hate me, wanna hurt that nigga, Bone/ Nigga, somehow, someway get paid, and quit playa hatin/ That buck to the bang, everything I got, I got 'cause we rhyme, tight rhyme/ Had to figure it out, but it came in time, just in time/ And if you give it to me, my thugs gon' give it you, so either we scope out ya skull, somebody's head gon' get blown/ Bone gone with your bad self, hey, hey, hey/ Blowin' up your face with your pistols and get with that buck to the bang, bang, bang/ Nigga wanna roll with Bone, it's on, 'cause nigga, we cool, we cool/ Don't forget, playa haters get that buck to that bang all up in that body/ Got 'em, got 'em/ We won't be slippin/ We just might be peepin' you all the time/I'm comin/ I'm gunnin', and I put that on the double nine
-Bizzy Bone-
Shoot 'em up always, hate when I break you off and your loss, I make it look to bossy/ Let there be coffins for all of your offspring, now/ Let there be coffins for all of your offspring/ For the police on the corner, creepin' up, here comes them soldiers pullin' up, better watch one of them St. Clair niggas put it in a gutter, put it down for doja/ Really know ya should'na never been jumpin' up out your shit, you runnin' with a gang of bitches, fool/ You ready when I'm ready to do it you, it be my thang/ But a buck, buck is small change/ It’s often they say that them niggas was bullshit, but the Bizzy maintain/ Nigga, this the Northcoast homie/ That city where the St. Clair niggas sell dope/ Only police roll deep in the set, see none of us scared, if we show that it's on, bitch/ Bang, you feel the picture, my trigger finger's a bitch/ I done put it down with my click, and stood on my own, and still flip/ And I rest on the nine, don’t be fuckin’ with y'all, stickin' my dogs on 'em all/ Niggas been hation little Bizzy, but it's all good, I still ball/ And I know when you know, and no snatchin' your souls with the Bone, I can show it, and since I'm a flow, and it’s all of y’all heard of, my niggas are fin to let 'em all know it/ Playas takin' up off the style, but, if you think I'm scared, you did, you are/ What’chu you think when I bring you down?
-Chorus-
Recorded for the Bone Thugs~n~Harmony album / soundtrack The Collection, Volume 1 / The Great White Hype