Stoned Raiders

[Mellow Man Ace: repeat 2X]
Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der..

[Intro: B-Real] + (Mellow Man Ace)
Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby
Got that crunk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy
We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street
We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three (low-ri-der)
So pop your collar, give a holla, throw yo' dubs in the air
We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair
Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der)
Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight

[B-Real]
Now when people are done, bumpin they head to this
You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this
We been makin you bounce, for many years already
Rock steady and cut, many niggaz to confetti
But I just want to blaze it up; whether it's the mic or a spliff
Yes my gift is to amaze you all
Thought I couldn't come for ten my friend, but guess what?
I slay niggaz and still savin my best nut (low-ri-der)
But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when
I spit it out and start some flowin
I drop rhymes that grow like trees you're smokin
Ear drums feel like lungs, your brain's chokin
Just let it soak in, seep in, creep in
I'm keepin, all you motherfuckers in the deep end (low-ri-der)
You wanna trip? Then I got luggage
I stuff you in and send you off, cause you ain't rugged

[Chorus] + (Mellow Man Ace)
Aww, comin through fo' real we Cypress Hill, ohh baby
Got that crunk, for yo' trunk, goin gangsta crazy
We some real life hustlers, playin games in the street (low-ri-der)
We got that low-ri-der, scrapin dippin on three
So pop yo' collar, give a holla, throw the dubs in the air (low-ri-der)
We tear the roof, off the mother, lady let down yo' hair
Playa do that thang, that make you feel alright (low-ri-der)
Smoke that tree, crack that brew, we gettin freaky tonight

[B-Real & Sen Dog]
Cause, we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us
Just get inside, we bouncin dippin, chop it up real tough
Lean to the side, pimp yo' hat, tilt yo' seat on back
Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack (low-ri-der)

[Sen Dog]
I be the vato with the fine hoodrat in the ranfla
Always roll deep on the streets like the mafia
Pleito, just might come back and haunt ya
Flossin too much, no vato's gonna want ya
Not right here homes, we're past all of that
Makin that feria, spittin that raps
Ya me conoces, I'm down for my calle
Cypress Ave, y el puro desmadre (low-ri-der)
Ya tu sabes, we don't play that shit
Any pendejo's gettin hit up quick
Whassup ese? What hood you claim?
Now throw it up and down like it ain't no thang (low-ri-der)
Hands in the air with the pinky rings
Soul Assassins, runnin everything
To all you vatos, make sure you check this
In every barrio, I'm well respected (low-ri-der)

[Chorus]

[Mellow Man Ace: repeat 4X to fade]
Low-ri-der.. low-ri-der..

Intro: [MC Ren]

Yeah, y'all know what the fuck this is
MC motherfuckin' Ren up in this bitch nigga
Yeah, all y'all bitch-ass niggas out here talkin all that shit
We 'bout to drop this motherfucker on y'all like this (*gun being loaded*)
Punk ass niggas out here, nigga
We some Southland Killers in this motherfucker (*gun is cocked*)
(*GUNSHOT*)

[MC Ren]
Niggas all acrosss town, up in the suburbs
While niggas makin' faces like The Rock on the curb
Nigga People's Elbow, the loud-mouthed hold
And groupie niggas bangin' for passes to the show (Can I get in?)
Big-ass cheques wit' plenty of O's (O's)
And hoes wit' big lips doin' what they suposed (yeah)
Didn't have shit 'till I started to bust
And y'all got shit 'cos of my balls are cussed
Ren and Cypress Hill, they ain't liver than us
Nigga Legendary Villian, who started the fuss
Nigga double glock, cocked, get your shit rocked
Get your crib knocked, nigga have that rib popped
Under bosses and trouble, they under my rubble
Clone motherfuckers, always the villain, like The Hubble
Fuck your bubble, I bust them shits
Plaques and shit, grab my dick, spit these hits

Chorus [B-Real]



Throw your clips up, man we's about to bust (Man we's about to bust) (Killers!)
Cy-press, Hill click, yeah we ready for war (Yeah we ready for war) (Killers!)
All y'all niggas, better just hit the floor (Killers!)

[King Tee]
I'm close to the best thing, on the West Wing
Blown out your set, flames when the best sing
It's a rep thing, haters feel they chest pain
They feel it in they heart, I was there to test things
Didn't arrest (?), the bullet-proof vest team
These niggas shoot first they they askin (?) names
It's less strain
It's all real, I bet fame, it's a chess game
Wrong move and it's checkmate (That's right)
I might sound funny out here
But really, niggas get money out here
And hey, everyday is sunny out here
So listen, don't play dummy out here
King try for bust make your whole pack run
Stacked enough cash so now I stack guns
Fat ones, all cold and black ones
Southland Killin', it's just how that's done

Chorus

[Sen Dog and B-Real]
You can try to ride with the Hill, lie on the Hill
but when your shit (?) is when die on the Hill
We get, hot on the heel, rely on the steel
When your paper gets pulled and you design is steeled
Like you, signed the deal, or signed over your will
[Sen Dog] BUSTERS GET SLAYED...!

[B-Real]
...when you fuck around with Real
Take time to feel, what I'm tellin' you hoes (Tellin' you hoes)
You couldn't fuck around with me if I was sellin' you blows
Just goes to show the incredible skill tell
Bitch nigga, now you trapped under my wig well
Gettin trampled, DUMPED on and thumped on
Scraped on the six-five with the HAND ON THE PUMP SONG

[Sen Dog]
Don't even fuck with these Southland grandes
We the vatos that run on Los Angeles
Call me Mad Dog, if you think you know me
If you're not sure then turn around and LEAVE SLOWLY!

Chorus

[Bobo]
Once again
We're back
It's the big bad Cypress Hill
You know what time it is

[Beat fades in]
{5x} Whoop
Legalize it,
Cypress Hill will advertise it
Legalize it (Yeah)
Cypress Hill will advertise it
Will ADVERTISE IT!

Chorus - Cypress featuring Kokane

Once Upon,
*singing*
Muggs, Sen Dog *Bing* B-Real and Bobo
L.I.F.E (Now Here it is )
Why, Why, Why (Bo Bo Bo Bo)
Cypress Hill is still here
We're from *?* those glad emcees
Stilly Puffin Weed, Weed
Why Diddely Why
Why, Why, Why
Why-y-y

[B-Real]
Never fucked like this
But I smoke blunts like this (Ha!)
People ask: Why you pull stunts like this? (and like that?)
Cuz I believe in doing what I got' a
A lot' a people don't understand nada
The Mic burns you as it turn's to a slaughter
You wanna think about
Chilling the fuck out
You all (C'mon chill)
Top Allah, Pop color
Niggas, LatinThugs
All my family love winners
Beginners get pushed to back of the pack
Invented and left out without no attack
You're at the top of the game
But you work on a name
It took one day to put us in the walk of fame (Yo)
Don't call a name to recall the fame
Eventually Dru Hill is in the hall of fame
You know what the deal is
You know what the HILL is
You know what the B-Real is
You know what my skill is

Chorus &
Hook 4X

[Sen Dog]
I get mental
This ain't no pad and a pencil
Throw the microphone my only utensil
I tag the cheque like I got nothing to lose (That's right)
I test myself set up, just shut up
And brew that C-Y-P-R-E-S-S
Got you funky and I real deaf
Put it to the test
And you will confess
Soul Assassins is the best
Check it homeboy, got to spot cracking (echoes)
Sixth LP from that ThugDogLatin
I turn the heat up and keep it hot
Always give ya mo' and then thank we got
Phreak the HIP HOP and the hot ride
I'm home to make shows and I came right
At first 'self titled' , became an idol
Back when I was seen in a Sub town barrio

Chorus &
Hook 4X

Now Here it is
Bo Bo Bo Bo

[B Real]
Why Diddely Why
Why, Why, Why

Chorus: Kurupt and B-Real (repeat 2x)

You don't know no real shit, nigga (it's the real shit!)
This the original Cypress Hill shit, nigga
We numb niggas, ya don't feel shit, nigga
You ain't on no real shit, nigga

[B-Real]
'91 (*echoes*) Cypress Hill burst upon the scene
Three crazy, gun-totin' niggas smokin' weed
Talkin' about life on records was the whole plan
So we put out The Phuncky Feel, but you were feelin' Kill A Man (KILL A MAN! *echoes*)
That was about the time we was openin' up for Naughty
Didn't know shit, we were jus' tryin' to rock the party

'92 (*echoes*) a year later, 'bout a million records sold
From doin' shows like Lollapalooza on the road
Buildin' up momentum, whilst spittin' deadly venom
Takin' pictures for High Times, me, Muggs an' Senn
Chillin' with the Beastie Boys, smokin' lots of weed
But it was time to hit the studio for another LP

'93 (*echoes*) Black Sunday hits, with critical acclaim
Had a monster hit from Insane In The Brain
Topped the charts, held the spot, for six weeks to boot
It was a trip to note, that we was the first ones to do it
in rap music, but it was a feat none the less
So we started gettin paid and I stopped smokin' STRESS!

Chorus

[B-Real]
'94 (*echoes*) still in the door and we conquered many tours
With Rage Against The Machine, House Of Pain and many more
Was even invited to Woodstock, some niggas from the block
called up Eric Bobo and half a million rocked
How could all this happen at 24 years of age?
Half a million bouncin' to your shit from off the stage

'95 (*echoes*) I was alive and survived so far (*"(Rap) Superstar"
xylophone*)
Still tryin' to cope with bein' a Rap Star
'Cos that's the type of shit that can really affect your mental
This was evident, in the way I broke the tempo
With confusin,("I'm havin' Illusions") pain, immense illusions
But I still kept my set up with the critics bein' abusive (yeah)
Even the record company, they became illusive
When it comes to showin' support for the Cypress institution

'96 (*echoes*) wit' no support we were still makin' moves
Cypress Hill, in the summer, we were on the Smokin' Grooves
But like every legend every clique, someone had to split
So the Dog left the house, shit was gettin' kinda thick
I was with the electric lady, we was talkin' about babies
but the groupies on the road don't help me from misbehavin'

Chorus (Just 1 repeat)

[B-Real]
'97 (*echoes*) was the trip, it was the year we killed the feud
Between us and Cube, over shit nobody knew
The Dog came back home (*barking*) but after Smokin' Grooves 2
Chillin' with George Clinton and Erykah Badu
This was a crazy time, we were flowin' off the boo
Niggas on stage, trippin' on the 'shrooms

'98 (*echoes*) was kinda great, cos it felt just like before
We hit the studio, recorded Cypress Hill IV
But someone dropped the ball, as I still recall
'Cos it felt Cypress Hill got no support at all
We did the last Smokin' Grooves, but did it all with Sen
and the old chemistry, just reared it's head again

'99 (*echoes*) I got to recline, because there was no doubt
That the first year was a success, of the Smoke Out
'99 was even better than the year of '98
and Skull And Bones was comin' out, kickin' from the gate

TWO-thousand! (*echoes*) 15 million records sold
They broke the mould, but there's others along the road
But we still keep rollin' on from Heaven to Atlantis
Droppin' shit in English and makin' albums in Spanish

Two-thousand and one! (*Echoes*) Goddamn, who knows what's in store?
Just as long as motherfuckers know, who's knockin' on the door
We remain unjaded and still we go unfaded
See how long we made it and never been outdated

[B-Real] (Sen Dog)

We ain't goin out, motherfucker (That's right, FUCK that!)
You don't know what the deal is (big time Cypress Hill!)
(Motherfuckin' renovaters up here)

Chorus

[Outro - Kurupt]
(It's the REEEEAAAAL!)
Nigga, nigga
Ni-ni-nigga <--(*scratched*)
This the original Cypress Hill shit, nigga
Nigga, nigga
(*scratch*) nigga
CYPRESS, nigga!
Yeah!

(B-Real)
I lost my innocence at birth but I make no excuses
for the trivial things and the pain life induces
Bitches are wild, and so was I, young and stupid
it's incredible, what a shitty circumstance produces them
Criminals, led by the originals, high strung, motivated by the, principles
some of us out - he used to think we were invincible
on the corner bangin' and slangin' the high bitual
Deadly rituals fill my head, nothin' spiritual
Bullets filled up bodies like hands from my physical
I got touched by the hot hands of bitter fools
Divided and tempted snake bitten by the ridicule
Frustration and hate filled my adrenaline
I play doctors here's two bullets for your medicine
I carry those days like a weapon close to me
The memories of hot lead rippin' a hole through me

(Chorus: B-Real)
Son, fill your heater, how bout chase killer
Rock 'em up and show you're no quitter
Snakes' pit every ground I landed on
Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong
You hate the songs that you pump up all day long
Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong
Snakes' pit, every ground I landed on
Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong
Stand...

(B-Real)
So many, come and go in this lifetime that you serve
Faces change, liscenses' everywhere you turn
Gangsta's become blinded, visions become blurred
Learned to stay alive to the real side of the curb
You came along way but some still refuse to notice
they turned they back on us and they tried to provoke us
You ask about us, you talk trash about us
walk fast around us, but my block fast allowed us
Don't try to crowd us nigga, we'll smack you up
Look around and see who's willin' to back you up
You're in a ghost town and home alone like Macaulay nigga
don't say my name nigga, don't even think of me
Fire start spittin' from my grill piece, ya scorched up, touched up
I'm the C4 that blew up your porch
I spit venom quicker than the punch on your Porsche
Venom so deadly I'll make your fuckin' life divorce ya
Ask for Alamoney, bitches, you all phoney
I'll make you sing the blues like you're Paulpau Coloney
Go ask Moley, you in the middle of shit
And anything you say I'll be known the shit
The force drops hits a ball, makin' me die of laughter
Cause I know what these son-of-a-bitches are after
Your mind and soul, if your blind and cold
then your true sign is shown, then your fuckin' mind is blown

(Chorus: B-Real)
Son, fill your heater, how bout chase killer
Rock 'em up and show you're no quitter
Snakes' pit every ground I landed on
Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong
You hate the songs that you pump up all day long
Hated on, but we're still standin' strong
Snakes' pit, every ground I landed on
Hated on, but I'm still standin' strong
Stand...

[B-Real]
It's been a while now
Been around the block many miles
Many faces, many places
that I found ?friend's? traces
Where I spend time, places where my roam
Places I can call home
Places I can get stoned
I just wanna be alone
When I'm feelin' in my zone
People want to knock me down
'cos they never have their own
They won't get the best of me
But they try hopelessly
Why you wanna fuck wit' me?
I'm not, what you s'posed to be?
You could not give a DAMN
Coulda just Killed A Man
Sawed off in my hand
But I had to kill the plan
Think I've found my piece of mind
Feet planted on the ground
I just had to redefine, what I thought to myself
It all goes around me and others who would down me
Who I don't give a fuck about, Trouble always found me,
I know used to welcome it with my arms open wide,
Trouble's hand's on the door, but it can't come INSIDE!

Chorus 1 : B Real (repeat 2x)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, TROUBLE'S NOT MY GOOOOOOOOOOAL!
You want trouble, c'mon,
You want trouble?
You want trouble, c'mon
You want trouble?

[Sen Dog]
Trouble on the line, all the fuckin' time
Got me contemplatin' the solution, the fusion my wicked mind
Got suckers that hate me but it don't really matter
I'm like a gat when I bust, niggas run and scatter
Movin' in circles, throwin' elbows and fists
You got to be a real nigga in the Cypress Hill pen
Like the critics talkin' shit, but I'm not concerned
A hundred G's for sixty minutes is the bank I earn
I try to put it to you (?) so you bitches can learn
That no-body get tired when it's time to burn
With so many phonies out there a lot of you have been fooled
In to actually believin' that some shit is cool
Take the blinders off and go look for yourself
Fuck hearin' about shit from somebody else
I'm down for myself, I back up myself
Put in all on the line make sure that I'M FELT!

Chorus 1 (Repeat 2x)

[B-Real] Nooooo!

*scratching interlude*

[B-Real]
Look, the wall's closin' in
and my shoe's wearin' thin
Had to be the biggest clown that you couldn't comprehend
Some hated on my game, said I wouldn't be the same
Called me "Rock Superstar", "Insane In The Brain"
But I know I haven't changed
So I brush you to the side
Trouble's knockin' on the door, askin' jus' to come inside
'times I gotta block it out, no-one likes to talk it out
Trouble keeps comin' and I can't seem to lock it out
Got my hands on the phone, I don't wanna have to talk
If you're feelin (?), son, then I guess you gotta jump
I can see it in your eyes, you don't seem to recognise
I wouldn't fall into your trap, for many lives to compromise
I'm not fallin' for your shit, you ain't gonna take me there
You can talk all you want, but I don't got your (?)

Chorus 1 (Repeat 2x)

Chorus 2: B-Real [Sen Dog] (Repeat 4x)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, TROUBLE'S NOT MY GOOOOOOOOOOAL!
[You want trouble right now? C'mon
You want trouble right now? C'mon]

[B-Real] You want trouble, c'mon
You want trouble?
(Repeat 4x)

[Intro 4x]
Lalalala-lala-lalala

[B-Real]
I'll admit, I was a wild seed when I was a kid
Slangin dope, poppin Shroomz and droppin lots of sin
Psychodelic visions would ensue
My view feelin the alter-states as they altered my fate
But I ??? ???, all that distorted shit brought it up
I came short and couldn't afford to store it up
So I began to record it on audio
The autobiography of Luis Mario
Something that's unbelievable, inconceivable
That half the shit I set out to do was achievable
But alas, look at all the shit come to pass
While we remained strong, others broke like glass
Cos you lack style, and you need all the help brother
Cos you're fragile, and it should say it on your cover:
This side up, for the celebrity
Who lacks intelligence, integrity, intensity
Oh it's true, I got you in that angle like Kurt
But don't go gettin your fuckin feelings hurt
I spit many bars of heat, that burn like a furnace,
I pour rhymes out like coffee spillin out your 'dermis

[Chorus 2x]
(Lalalala-lala-lalala)
I got my 9mm at my waist, papa
I got my shotgun in the escalade, papa
If you feel groggy then jump and get sprayed, papa
I don't wanna but you dug your own grave, papa

[B-Real]
You know me and you've grown with me
And if I had a big enough pad, I'd take you all home with me
I don't walk around with bodyguards, that's not me
I'm hangin out with the people as my posse
Used to have a lot of enemies with bad intentions
Spreading gossip like disease, creating lots of tension
People turn around when you become a star it seems
But others hate you all cos you've fulfilled all your dreams
They smile in your face and act like nothing's wrong
When you turn your back, they hate, and play one of your
songs
Why don't you take your mask off, look me in the eye?
You afraid I might blast-off and call you on your life?
Take a deep one, and peep son
Retribution comes around more than once, like a re-run
You're a cheap one to kill, so steep son
You're just another one who gets thrown in the quay, son

Chorus:

[B-Real]
You know they smile in your face,
You know they try to take space
I let you punks know you ain't safe
Cos you know you're just dead-weight
But at the present day they gettin stalled out for some
reason
But not from me, because it's punk-hunt season
Charged with high-treason, I'm easin the blow never
The ????, that you're leasin, ain't gonna roll forever
So think about that, is it worth the pain?
When you flirt with pain, bitch you don't hurt your brain
But you're thick-headed, numbskull and Rick said it:
It was the moment you feared, when my venom spreaded

[Chorus 2x]
You know they smile in your face
You know they try to take space
I let you punks know you ain't safe
Cos you know you're just dead-weight