Oh Yeah,
It ain't over motherfuckers...
Niggas don't understand...
Every few years,
Niggas got to get their motherfucking caps peeled back...
Nigga this is Westside nigga...dont think, nigga DONT THINK!
Now, next motherfuckers...go by the name of Cypress Hill
K all motherfucking day
[Ice Cube]
Every few years niggas think they can deal with the real
Now I gots to fuck Cypress Hill
I got a voice you should fear!
I drink a beer bust a rap and end your fucking career
You fuckin cowards
Never seen a hood high powered
Like the Westside Connect
Slide me my tech
I Got'em
Soon as I spot'em I'm dumpin
Gots to treat these bitch ass niggas like they stole something
I see a joint in your clutch
You're smokin that shit too much
Got your bitch ass touched
Sen Dogg you can't rap from the guts
And B-Real sounding like he got baby nuts
I don't know why y'all think y'all slick
I don't know what rapper down wit your click
I don't know one bitch on your dick
And I don't know one nigga pumping your shit
I hear you claiming South Central wait...
You ain't from my hood!
Y'all hoes from South Gate
Coming with a voice high pitched
The "B" in B-Real must stand for Bitch
[Mack 10]
We'll its the Hip-Hop junkie startin static
Now I'm rolling up Cypress Hill
Letting niggas have it
Got these wannabe thugs up
Load my slugs up
Hey yo back up Cube Dogg we passed that bitch Muggs up
Pull over and let me out this show no sight
And let me show this White Boy
What that Westside Connect like
Boo Ya Boo Ya! from tha gauge as I spit them
Tha buck shots spray and made them lay as I hit'em (Uhhh)
Ain't got the Swedish punks ass no mo'
1 down and 2 to go
Hand me a Fo' Fo'
Let me get my ride on
Get my homicide on
B-Real wish he could be me 'cause he know he can't see me (Biiiiiitch!)
You should have known you can't fade a real hog
Bringin Inglewood small
Cause I'm a real dogg
You bustas wanna see me but you bustas can't come close
Because I'm ACE homies with Americas Most
Nigga miss me
I'm used to a hoe trying to kiss me
Now what gave your bitch ass enough heart to diss me?
You'll come up missing
And Sen Dogg is so wacked he ain't even worth dissin (hahaha)
You niggas need to listen
On everything I love my heat can't release a dub
Fuck rappin fuck strapping I'll create another bloody glove
Its 1 - 0 and For sho' I'll kill
You pussies can't match my skill
Cause I'm the King Of The Hill!
[Ice Cube]
Everybody in the Ghetto, know what you're doing
1 white boy and 2 fucking Cubans
Claiming that you're Loco
But you ain't Mexican
Listen to "No Vaseline" Before you flex again
Fucking with tha hoggs
You say you bloods
But you ain't nothing but a Dogg fool
On tour only rapping to tha yuppies
We the Big Fish that'll make a dish out you fucking guppies
So who y'all with?
Niggaz down with Cypress can wipe this shit off my dick
Has I stick it like King Kong
And play Ping Pong
With this fake ass Cheech and Chong
Did you tell ya
Momma that I had to help ya
When Sen Dogg left your bitch ass in Australia
You say that I took your hook?
It must be the White Boy thinking all niggaz crooks
Now What? You hip-hop Hippies
How you fucking junkies
Think you Gonna Punk Me?
And chill
And Deal with tha fact that you ain't got enough skill
To kill
The King Of The Hill
[Mack10]
Ice Cube could you pass me my steel?
[Ice Cube]
For real!
[Mack10]
I'm the king of the Hill!
[Ice Cube]
Mack10 could you pass me my steel?
[Mack10]
For real!
[Ice Cube]
I'm the King of the Hill!
[Mack10]
Ice Cube could you pass me my steel?
[Ice Cube]
For real!
[Mack10]
I'm the king of the Hill!
[Ice Cube]
Westside could you pass me my steel?
[Mack10]
For real!
[Ice Cube]
I'm the King of the Hill!
"I'm havin Illusions"
[Ice Cube]
A Westside niggas whooping on your motherfuckin ass
That's what you gotta loose u lil' BITCH
[Mack10]
Yeah nigga youse a bitch
Dogg we aint got no niggas like you on my side
Nigga this is Inglewood
Westside Yeeeeeah
[Ice Cube]
Check it out...
We're waiting for round 2 you punk ass mothefuckers
And anybody else that wanna get some
Stand in line
But bring a lunch mothefuckers...
Got damn, I'm glad ya'll set it off.
Used to be hard, now you're just wet and soft.
First you was down with the AK,
and now I see you on a video with Michel'le?
Lookin' like straight bozos.
I saw it comin', that's why I went solo.
And kept on stompin',
when ya'll mothafuckers moved straight outta Compton.
Livin' with the whites, one big house,
and not another nigga in site.
I started off with too much cargo,
dropped four niggas now I'm makin' all the dough.
White man just rulin'.
The Niggas With Attitudes -- who ya foolin'?
Ya'll niggas just phony,
I put that on my mama and my dead homeys.
Yella Boy's on your team, so you're losin';
Ay yo Dre, stick to producin'.
Callin' me Arnold, but you Been-a-dick;
Eazy E saw your ass and went in it quick.
You got jealous when I got my own company,
but I'm a man, and ain't nobody helpin' me.
Tryin' to sound like Amerikkka's Most,
you could yell all day but you don't come close.
Cuz you know I'm the one that flown,
ya done run 100 miles, but you still got one to go.
With the L-E-N-C-H M-O-B, and ya'll disgrace the C-P-T.
Cuz you're gettin' fucked out your green by a white boy,
with no vaseline...
[Refrain]
[L.L. sample:] "Now you're gettin' done without vaseline..." [3x]
[Biz Markie sample:] "Damn, it feels good to see people...on it"
The bigger the cap, the bigger the peelin',
who gives a fuck about a punk-ass villain?
You're gettin' fucked real quick,
and Eazy's dick, is smellin' like MC Ren's shit.
Tried to tell you a year ago,
but Willie D told me to let a hoe be a hoe, so
I couldn't stop you from gettin' ganked,
now let's play big-bank-take-little-bank.
Tried to dis Ice Cube, it wasn't worth it
cuz the broomstick fit your ass so perfect.
Cut my hair and I'll cut them balls,
cuz I heard you're, like, givin' up the drawers.
Gang-banged by your manager, fella,
gettin' money out your ass, like a mothafuckin' Ready Teller.
Givin' up the dollar bills,
now they got the Villain with a purse and high-heels.
So don't believe what Ren say,
cuz he's goin' out like Kunte Kinte,
but I got a whip for ya Toby;
used to be my homey, now you act like you don't know me.
It's a case of divide-and-conquer,
cuz you let a Jew break up my crew.
House nigga gotta run and hide,
yellin' Compton, but you moved to Riverside.
So don't front, MC Ren, cuz I remember when you drove a B 2-10.
Broke as a mothafuckin' joke.
Let you on the scene to back up the Verse Team.
It ain't my fault, one nigga got smart,
and they rippin' your asshole apart.
By takin' your green, oh yeah,
the Villain does get fucked with no vaseline.
[Refrain scratched]
I never have dinner with the President.
I never have dinner with the President.
I never have dinner with the President.
And when I see your ass again, I'll be hesitant.
Now I think you a snitch,
throw a house nigga in a ditch.
Half-pint bitch, fuckin' your homeboys.
You little maggot; Eazy E turned faggot.
With your manager, fella,
fuckin' MC Ren, Dr. Dre, and Yella.
But if they were smart as me,
Eazy E would be hangin' from a tree.
With no vaseline, just a match and a little bit of gasoline.
Light 'em up, burn 'em up, flame on...
till that Jheri curl is gone.
On a permanent vacation, off the Massa plantation.
Heard you both got the same bank account,
dumb nigga, what you thinkin' bout?
Get rid of that Devil real simple, put a bullet in his temple.
Cuz you can't be the Nigga 4 Life crew
with a white Jew tellin' you what to do.
Pullin' wools with your scams, now I gotta play the Silence of the Lambs.
With a midget who's a punk too,
tryin' to fuck me, but I'd rather fuck you.
Eric Wright, punk, always into somethin', gettin' fucked at night.
By Mista Shitpacker, bend over for the gotdamn cracker, no vaseline...
("Fuck danny")
What's up niggas, ay yo, I know you ain't talking 'bout me dog
You, what?
("Fuck danny")
You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga
("Fuck danny")
[Chorus]
(I) Fuck with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you the king you know you
(Not) "God's son" across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already
Brace yourself for the main event
Y'all impatiently waiting
It's like an AIDS test, what's the results?
Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big
Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy
I embrace y'all with napalm
Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone
How could Nas be garbage?
Semi-autos at your cartilage
Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne
I got this, locked since '9-1
I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced
Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas
With Hawaiian Sophie fame, kept my name in his music
Check it
[Chorus]
[talking]
Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt)
Ay, y'all faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the fucking ring
[Chorus]
I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten
Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh)
Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face
Y'all some "well wishers," friendly acting, envy hiding snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?
When these streets keep calling, heard it when I was sleep
That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef
Started cocking up my weapon, slowly loading up this ammo
To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle
This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound stupid
When KRS already made an album called Blueprint
First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big
Dick sucking lips, why not you let the late, great veteran live
[talking]
(I...will...not...lose)
"God's son" across the belly, I prove you lost already
The king is back, where my crown at?
(Ill...will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas
[Chorus]
Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches
What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother
You traded your soul for riches
My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous
And now I smile like a proud dad, watching his only son that made it
You seem to be only concerned with dissing women
Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly?
Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me
Or make records to disrespect me, blatent or indirectly
In '88 you was getting chased through your building
Calling my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers
All I did was gave you a style for you to run with
Smiling in my face, glad to break bread with the god
Wearing Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case
Just Hawaiian shirts, hanging with little Chase
You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you tryna' get brolic?
Ask me if I'm tryna' kick knowledge
Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shit you need to learn though
That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow
Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy?
Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy
Rockefeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter
And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after?
Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas
And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas?
Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas
Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you getting girls now 'cause of your looks?
Ne-gro please
You no mustache having, with whiskers like a rat
Compared to Beans you wack
And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame
You ass, went from Jaz to hanging with Caine, to Herb, to Big
And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit
You a dick-riding faggot, you love the attention
Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons
Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick
J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick
Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick
Shawn Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick
So little shorty's getting gunned up and clapped quick
How much of Biggie's rhymes is gonna come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on every last one of my classics
You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss
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