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
-Flesh N Bone-
Together forever and I'm about to go ride out down on '99 in my Calico/ I'm gonna go meet my killas, bringin' techs, heaters/ Run and go through the picture/ To fuck up the mission, two at your dome/ (?) / So you done got me flippin' on coppers at all/ Got a nigga frustrated, I hate it/ Get aggravated, trip off, Hell, and it's murder, my Lord/ Tossed in the coffin for fuckin' with Fifth/ It ain't easy trippin' slippin' wig split up on the curb/ Pump my humps on 225 kickin' it at that ass at six points on the Richter Scale and hell-a herb/ If I ever heard you was hatin' fake and front to my face; Better pray for the way, I'm a play with the AK's/ Everyday be the same on a level, too, shovels graves/ In the sight of a psychopath and I'm a throw my lead in as the Son of Sam, the missle kill with a tom-assed blast to the back of the bus, see the truth through the roof when they comin' in with them troops swoop through, shoot! Headed back out with the herb, back to the table/ Flesh, yes sir
-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...
-Wish Bone-
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
Recorded for the BoneThugRecords.com album Dj Uneek and Leathaface Present: Bone Thug Affiliates