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Krayzie:

Don`t niggas don`t wanna start shit. Buck, buck to the bang.

Sendin` bullets to the brain, nigga. Yeah.

A nigga that always at my city with me, now, who was that nigga

they put in the plastic? Nigga that thought he could bang.

That nigga`s stuck. That nigga`s blasted. They got my man from

the Land. Never ran, I step with deadly men. If ya come a

little bit closer, I can turn you into sand. Now follow me, now

roll, stroll down to Cleveland. We thuggin`, we theivin`, we

put it

in deep, and the blood is seepin`. Got niggas in alleys, fuck

niggas in badges. We say bang. Eighty-eight through the ten-five



(and Clair). St. Clair ain`t shit to fuck with. Pumpin`, Krayzie

be bumpin`, dumpin` the bloody body. Me never knew one that

could flow with the tongue. We comin` to shoot up your posse.

My niggas--they comin` up out the woods, to get the goods.

Krayzie be thug, and (want to) die--that`s from comin` up in

my hood. We killas. Get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun,

bust one, they done. Cleveland is where we from. Hearts--thugs have none.



High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really

no place to run.

Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.



Bizzy:

Soon as I hit the scene, (?), feelin` for a pistol, but I didn`t

have no gun. Come with original thugsta shit. I be flippin` it

with me

tongue. Nigga, Cleveland is the city where we come from, and

I show them hoes up outta the Clair that thugs don`t run from



none. Follow rip one, now, on and on, them definitely got me

back. And I`m throwin` up St. Clair thugsta niggas, with or

without my gat. Forever be ready to pull out me murder tools

East 99 style, fools. Me put it in mind on murderin` you,

followin` whenever me murderous trues. Niggas that claim to bang

bang, when it comes to slang thangs, they do. They know

they cannot buck me, one of `em sure to slug me, but they hope

the thug I be, Bizzy. Better let `em him be or they`ll see.

Nigga, hangin`, swangin`, never to miss. The Biz is me.



High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really

no place to run.

Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.



Layzie:

Livin` in the Land of the Heartless with a sawed-off pump, shootin`

craps. Hand on my strap, roll thick, `cause they jack.

Runnin` up on the Bone, you needin` to be pap pap. Soldier thugs

be pumpin` them slugs, defendin` they drugs. When they roll

up, niggas be creepin` up slow, heavy packed with they gats,

and try to pull a hold up, but nigga, now hold on. Wanna test

the

Bone? The gauge is shown. Any is mind blown, lookin` down the

barrel of this Mossberg chrome to the dome. Bone, clack

back me gauge in a rage, copper take these here rocks. Double

glock, my pistols be pumpin` and buckin` out shots whenever

the trouble knocks. Steadily hittin`, me clean up, get lit up

for ready your soul to burn, and I blow your shit up, get `em

on the

get up, `cause niggas must learn. Yearnin` to earn cheese. Ready

to die, so niggas can`t take these. Wantin` to clock G`s, want



to move keys, not takin` a loss on my green leaves, please. East

nine nine, crime finds mine, strayin` on this road to hell, and



prison walls, testin` balls, for the cause, gotta get that sale,

and bailin`, kickin` up mud, rollin`, I get with my thugs. Rippin`

apart

shit, so nigga, don`t start shit, `cause we kill in the Land

of the Heartless. Die.



High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really

no place to run.

Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.

Krayzie:

Don`t niggas don`t wanna start shit. Buck, buck to the bang.

Sendin` bullets to the brain, nigga. Yeah.

A nigga that always at my city with me, now, who was that nigga

they put in the plastic? Nigga that thought he could bang.

That nigga`s stuck. That nigga`s blasted. They got my man from

the Land. Never ran, I step with deadly men. If ya come a

little bit closer, I can turn you into sand. Now follow me, now

roll, stroll down to Cleveland. We thuggin`, we theivin`, we

put it

in deep, and the blood is seepin`. Got niggas in alleys, fuck

niggas in badges. We say bang. Eighty-eight through the ten-five



(and Clair). St. Clair ain`t shit to fuck with. Pumpin`, Krayzie

be bumpin`, dumpin` the bloody body. Me never knew one that

could flow with the tongue. We comin` to shoot up your posse.

My niggas--they comin` up out the woods, to get the goods.

Krayzie be thug, and (want to) die--that`s from comin` up in

my hood. We killas. Get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun,

bust one, they done. Cleveland is where we from. Hearts--thugs have none.



High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really

no place to run.

Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.



Bizzy:

Soon as I hit the scene, (?), feelin` for a pistol, but I didn`t

have no gun. Come with original thugsta shit. I be flippin` it

with me

tongue. Nigga, Cleveland is the city where we come from, and

I show them hoes up outta the Clair that thugs don`t run from



none. Follow rip one, now, on and on, them definitely got me

back. And I`m throwin` up St. Clair thugsta niggas, with or

without my gat. Forever be ready to pull out me murder tools

East 99 style, fools. Me put it in mind on murderin` you,

followin` whenever me murderous trues. Niggas that claim to bang

bang, when it comes to slang thangs, they do. They know

they cannot buck me, one of `em sure to slug me, but they hope

the thug I be, Bizzy. Better let `em him be or they`ll see.

Nigga, hangin`, swangin`, never to miss. The Biz is me.



High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really

no place to run.

Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.



Layzie:

Livin` in the Land of the Heartless with a sawed-off pump, shootin`

craps. Hand on my strap, roll thick, `cause they jack.

Runnin` up on the Bone, you needin` to be pap pap. Soldier thugs

be pumpin` them slugs, defendin` they drugs. When they roll

up, niggas be creepin` up slow, heavy packed with they gats,

and try to pull a hold up, but nigga, now hold on. Wanna test

the

Bone? The gauge is shown. Any is mind blown, lookin` down the

barrel of this Mossberg chrome to the dome. Bone, clack

back me gauge in a rage, copper take these here rocks. Double

glock, my pistols be pumpin` and buckin` out shots whenever

the trouble knocks. Steadily hittin`, me clean up, get lit up

for ready your soul to burn, and I blow your shit up, get `em

on the

get up, `cause niggas must learn. Yearnin` to earn cheese. Ready

to die, so niggas can`t take these. Wantin` to clock G`s, want



to move keys, not takin` a loss on my green leaves, please. East

nine nine, crime finds mine, strayin` on this road to hell, and



prison walls, testin` balls, for the cause, gotta get that sale,

and bailin`, kickin` up mud, rollin`, I get with my thugs. Rippin`

apart

shit, so nigga, don`t start shit, `cause we kill in the Land

of the Heartless. Die.



High techs and khakis when jackin`, sawed-off, there`s really

no place to run.

Niggas get vicious with my click, `cause even the bitches carry guns.

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