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Welcome to the darkside.

Backwards (Shatasha): It`s the thuggish ruggish Bone . . .

Eazy-E: Eternal. Eternal. Eternal . . .

St. Clair, niggas [niggas, niggas].

[Laughing. Scream. Thunder.]

Backwards (Bizzy): Gotta give it on up to the glock glock, pop

pop, better drop before them buckshot blow. The Bone in

me never no ho, so no creepin` up outta the ziplock. So, Sin,

sip gin, and Lil` Mo Heart run up, nut up, and flipped in, then



slipped in the clip then, mistakin` they bloody victims. `Member

to test nuts . . .

[Explosion.]

Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!

[Laughing.]

Right back at your muthafuckin` ass comes those real true thugs

staight of the Double Glock, puttin` it down for the muthafuckin`



Land, takin` no shorts, no losses, puttin` it on these jealous,

bitch-made, playa hatin` ass niggas. You better tell me what`s

real,

bitch. Takin` over shit in the nine five, I bring to you the

one and only, Bone thugs-n-harmony.

Nigga, this St. Clair [this St. Clair, this St. Clair].



Layzie:

Yeah, nigga.

Krayzie:

Execution double nine style, steadily fillin` them bodies underground.

Bizzy:

Nigga be all about that llello bankroll. Bet I make that money,

man, then roll, put it on the dough, but I beat up hoes, and

I peel

`em and bang. Gotta get them demons off me, creepin` up softly,

seepin` up through my soul, and sleepin` ain`t good til dawn.



When I`m alone, and I`m dozin`, bet I watch the door, then I

won`t be slippin`, sleepin`. Lovin` the thugs I bails with, but

a trail

of twelve gauge shells, blood`ll be spilled, one-eighty-seven

and a two-eleven. Twelve gauge and an AK-47 spray. Lil` Ripsta



killa now, put `em off in a grave--they lay with a slug stuck

all up in ya. When I roll with realer niggas, pop, pop. Drop

to the

sound, hit the ground, then I`m up to kill ya.



Krayzie:

Them St. Clair thugs, we love when they pumpin` them slugs, now

what, see the blood from the scum, when I dug them

enemies deep in the mud. They drugged. I roll with them trues.

Snooze, you lose, end up on the alley floor fucked up. What`s



up with them shoes? Ooh, they new. So we runnin` off with my

dog`s Chucks. Bust a left at the block. Hey, what do ya

know? Oh, no, the po-po--they follow. Copper gotta see the nigga

layin` but can`t escape, but nigga, remember my motto:

me no surrender. Gotta get away, hit the fence with the quickness,

hit the other side, and I swang to the ride, rollin` through

the

cut, hit ninety-five. Peel, bailin` for safety we make it and

chill, gotta make a mill, better not get caught for real. Nigga,

drop

that bill, or I pop my steel. Ain`t no competition, don`t fuck

with my click, and so listen you bitches that trippin` so get

when we

stickin` then lickin` them pockets. So drop that dollar, man.

Gotta holler, bang. Fuckin` with a thug nigga smokin` blunts.



Nigga, don`t stiff on the weed, smoke it all, `cause, nigga,

you know when our pockets get (?) I`m a run and get a sack, and



come choke, choke, choke.



Layzie:

Now you`re fuckin` with these thuggish killas, creepin` up outta

the Land, and they ready to ride, gettin` high off thai. My niggas



in the Land got glocks for days on the nine-nine. But I kill

`em all, dog. Bet Layzie don`t fall with the twelve gauge eruption

on

niggas, so what now? Come, nigga, get buck, pow, and not only

that, get shut the fuck down. And I`m talkin` about niggas

that wanna contend with them thugstas. Some niggas done fucked

up, never no playa haters in the click`s allowed, and we

never no bustas. Never catch a nigga sleep, hear the buckshots

rang where the thugs in Cleveland dwell. Daily collectin` me



mill, and I`ll meet you in hell if all else fails. Oh, well.



Krayzie:

Execution double nine style,

with Layzie:

steadily sendin` that body underground.

Welcome to the darkside.

Backwards (Shatasha): It`s the thuggish ruggish Bone . . .

Eazy-E: Eternal. Eternal. Eternal . . .

St. Clair, niggas [niggas, niggas].

[Laughing. Scream. Thunder.]

Backwards (Bizzy): Gotta give it on up to the glock glock, pop

pop, better drop before them buckshot blow. The Bone in

me never no ho, so no creepin` up outta the ziplock. So, Sin,

sip gin, and Lil` Mo Heart run up, nut up, and flipped in, then



slipped in the clip then, mistakin` they bloody victims. `Member

to test nuts . . .

[Explosion.]

Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!

[Laughing.]

Right back at your muthafuckin` ass comes those real true thugs

staight of the Double Glock, puttin` it down for the muthafuckin`



Land, takin` no shorts, no losses, puttin` it on these jealous,

bitch-made, playa hatin` ass niggas. You better tell me what`s

real,

bitch. Takin` over shit in the nine five, I bring to you the

one and only, Bone thugs-n-harmony.

Nigga, this St. Clair [this St. Clair, this St. Clair].



Layzie:

Yeah, nigga.

Krayzie:

Execution double nine style, steadily fillin` them bodies underground.

Bizzy:

Nigga be all about that llello bankroll. Bet I make that money,

man, then roll, put it on the dough, but I beat up hoes, and

I peel

`em and bang. Gotta get them demons off me, creepin` up softly,

seepin` up through my soul, and sleepin` ain`t good til dawn.



When I`m alone, and I`m dozin`, bet I watch the door, then I

won`t be slippin`, sleepin`. Lovin` the thugs I bails with, but

a trail

of twelve gauge shells, blood`ll be spilled, one-eighty-seven

and a two-eleven. Twelve gauge and an AK-47 spray. Lil` Ripsta



killa now, put `em off in a grave--they lay with a slug stuck

all up in ya. When I roll with realer niggas, pop, pop. Drop

to the

sound, hit the ground, then I`m up to kill ya.



Krayzie:

Them St. Clair thugs, we love when they pumpin` them slugs, now

what, see the blood from the scum, when I dug them

enemies deep in the mud. They drugged. I roll with them trues.

Snooze, you lose, end up on the alley floor fucked up. What`s



up with them shoes? Ooh, they new. So we runnin` off with my

dog`s Chucks. Bust a left at the block. Hey, what do ya

know? Oh, no, the po-po--they follow. Copper gotta see the nigga

layin` but can`t escape, but nigga, remember my motto:

me no surrender. Gotta get away, hit the fence with the quickness,

hit the other side, and I swang to the ride, rollin` through

the

cut, hit ninety-five. Peel, bailin` for safety we make it and

chill, gotta make a mill, better not get caught for real. Nigga,

drop

that bill, or I pop my steel. Ain`t no competition, don`t fuck

with my click, and so listen you bitches that trippin` so get

when we

stickin` then lickin` them pockets. So drop that dollar, man.

Gotta holler, bang. Fuckin` with a thug nigga smokin` blunts.



Nigga, don`t stiff on the weed, smoke it all, `cause, nigga,

you know when our pockets get (?) I`m a run and get a sack, and



come choke, choke, choke.



Layzie:

Now you`re fuckin` with these thuggish killas, creepin` up outta

the Land, and they ready to ride, gettin` high off thai. My niggas



in the Land got glocks for days on the nine-nine. But I kill

`em all, dog. Bet Layzie don`t fall with the twelve gauge eruption

on

niggas, so what now? Come, nigga, get buck, pow, and not only

that, get shut the fuck down. And I`m talkin` about niggas

that wanna contend with them thugstas. Some niggas done fucked

up, never no playa haters in the click`s allowed, and we

never no bustas. Never catch a nigga sleep, hear the buckshots

rang where the thugs in Cleveland dwell. Daily collectin` me



mill, and I`ll meet you in hell if all else fails. Oh, well.



Krayzie:

Execution double nine style,

with Layzie:

steadily sendin` that body underground.

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