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 whammy's 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, ain't up to no good,�Red Dog in the trunk, and we rollin' that bang or 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 ya, but ya better pinnin' yourself or contend with the M-11 .357 automatic weapons from my shelf/�The niggas wanna take my health and wealth, check yourself/ Tryin' to contend, but they couldn't win/�You took it to the head with a fifth of Henn, now we in�a red�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 get it then pissed off/ And a, and a to fuck with the wrong motherfuckers/�They�fall quick�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 but that doesn't matter/ 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' about) 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' what have I got to make sure they lit him up good/ And you still find me/�Where? (You know we don't bullshit)�East 99, drugdealers and po-po, yeah, that's the Clair/�Bone runnin' back to Mo'/ And that's Cleveland, Cleveland/ You know we're thuggin' and theivin' theivin'/ If somebody got beef, we got millions done made/�I'm rollin' with Mo! Thug Records for ya/ See my nigga, we comin' with nothin' to lose/ And bitch, if ya tryin' to hit me/ Bloody bodies tryin' to get outta the room/�If I could just look up and see haters dyin'-yin'-yin' and�flip up my mind/ Whenever you think I'm quiet, I get plots on the riot, riot; Bang! That's 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, and the weed goin' up in your body/�Smokers, chill/ My niggas, gotta get me sloppy�high/ Oh, so, so high
Wish Bone (Krayzie)
C'mon, c'mon... Don't be shy,�let's get high (We got the herb) 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/ Niggas 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 thug it out, but it came in time, just in time/ And you give it to me, my thugs gon' give it you/ So either way we go about this goes, somebody's head gon' get blown/�Bone gon' on 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/ But nigga, we cool, we cool/�Don't forget;�Playa haters get that buck to the 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 you loss and make it look to floss/�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 better often and doze ya/�Really know ya shouldn't a let me jumpin' up out your shit, you runnin' with a gang of bitches for you ready when I'm ready to do�it you/�It in my thang but a buck, buck is small change/ It's off in ten to say�that they niggas was bullshittin' Little Bizzy maintain/ Nigga, this' the Northcoast homie, that city where the St. Clair niggas sell dope/ I hear police,�roll�deep in the set, see none of us scared, and we show that it's on, bitch, bang! You feel the pitch of my trigger finger's a bitch, oh/ I done put it down wit a my clique, and stood on my own and still there/�And I rest on the Nine, I'll be fuckin' with y'all, slangin' my�dogs, and I maul/ Niggas been itchin' Little Bizzy/ But it's all good, I still ball/ And I know when ya roll, I'm snatchin' your souls with the Bone, we can show it/�And since I'm a flow, and�it's all of y'all realer, my niggas, I�figured�I'd let�'em all know it/ Playas takin' up off the style/ Well, if you think I'm scared, you dead wrong/ What did you think when I break you down?
-Chorus-Krayzie-
Available on the The Great White Hype soundtrack/ Promo's available.
Sample taken from the Isley Brothers' Let's Fall In Love.