throw your hands int和air

Yeah Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five
Soul Assassins
Cypress Hill joint.
Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up... ...so get it on kid! [ Verse One: Erick Sermon]
Fresh is the word, when
I display my rappin forte
Quicker done than
O.J., hey
I freaks my *****t,
E the lyrical master
Stress me out, no doubt,
I might have to blast ya
Let me ask ya, can
I gets busy one time?
And unwind and chill, with
Cypress Hill
Huh, I go on with my bad self
Im the four pound toter, the
Phil blunt smoker
Believe me not,
Im wicked like three sixes
Im ****r than the
Pete Rock remixes
Never walk through the crowd sluggish
Im hardcore to the
Bone, Im
Thuggish Ruggish
The Green-
Eyed, Bandit,
I be ERRRI
CK SERRRMO
N I gets real determined
And one for the trouble, and two for the bass
I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace
And if you dont know, yall better recognize
Im coming through with speed, with pounds of ***** [Verse Two: B-Real]
Ahh *****t, another one of those gangsta hits
*****z wanna get busy with the ultimate
Fools get real, yo
Im representin the
Hill With chips and clips and tons of blue steel
So who wants to be the first ***** to die?
Then try and test this, buddha blessed
Gemini You get thrown sent home in a coffin
Punk stuff dont make it back, very often
I got Erick to take care of the
Sermon Ashes to ashes,dust, bodies burnin
Bustin open the doors to the temple
Takin you to the dark side of your mental [Chorus: B-Real]
Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air [Chorus] [Verse Three: Redman]
I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy finger up on the pen, be like 'He the bomb, *****y!'
These off-keys
MCs hawk me, they wont get off me
So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies [bzzzzt]
Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch
Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis is what
I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two ** ***t
Raw silk, cuz
YOU DO IT
TO MY MUSI
C *Funk Doctor
Spock* lock the hypest individual, to put criminal in diapers
With my *****
E and Cypress, what
I write *****
You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis in your back yard, word to
God, Def Squad !
With my *****
Keith in the place takin charge
Word up youll get hurt up like the jury callin murder
Youre deaf cuz
I freak ***** t you neva heard of [Chorus] [Verse Four: MC Eiht]
Steppin to the park in the
Hill you cant hang
The original baby gangsta on this
Compton thang
Dont slip , the late night hype, is when
I dip Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip
Cant feel me, if
I was crack youd try to steal me
Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me
Keep your hands on your hood, you get got
The Green-
Eyed Bandit,
Cypress Hill, and the
Funk Doctor
Spock You wish you could hang, like
I hang Dwells in the
C-P-T , the hood thing
G, the trigga finger,
Ima get you
Hit you, the
Tech 9, Ima split you
Aint no poppin, no stoppin
Tick to the tock, tick tock
I hit your block
Throw your hands in the air, dont bite this
I squeeze, ***** please, the
E down with
Cypress [Chorus ] [Chorus] [Outro: Sen Dog]
Aight, for everybody
All our peeps out on the corners
All the alleyways
For all our decesed
Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets
Nineteen ninety-five
Soul Assassins in your mind