CYPRESS HILL


It Ain't Nothin' Lyrics

I used to carry a glock on the waist line
Man, I don't waste time
I'm strong on the bass line
You'll never taste mine

See me on the screen
Fuckers beggin' for face time
Get your own tape
But don't bother to chase mine

I got a block
Man, we havin' a great time
You couldn't fill the shoes
Anytime that I lace mine

Light up the stage
For the homies we make shine
Sick the dogs on you
Get more by the K-9

Homies on the yard
Never walk in the main line
The manes find that they can
Never be in the game

I'm lettin' off rounds
Hittin' blunts at the same time
Pick a crew, homie
You a neon to save time

Bitches like you always
Spittin' the same rhymes
We put you all to shame
You never went through the same grind

Put you in the bind
The minute you came by
So stay in your lane
And get wet by the rain

You wanna step up
Get your ass touched
You wanna rap, son
Get your ass buff

Try to test us
You's gonna get smashed up
You wanna run with the dogs?
Get your cash up

Git it
You gotta get your straps up
Git it
You gotta get your stash up

Git it
You gotta get amped up
You wanna run with the dogs?
Get your cash up

I'm right here on the block
When it's time to ride out
You know what I'm all about
Hundred Harley bikes on site

When it goes down
Me and my homies
Always holdin' the fort down
Come up in our town

And you're pissin' a fourth now
Got 4 ounces and 3 bottles of jack
2 fifth's in the back
And everyone I'm with's strapped

Whatever happens
I'm chin checkin' and wreckin' fools
Try disrespecting me
My Smith & Wesson is endin' you

And I ain't changed
Since back in the day
Get your shit split quick
If you get in my face

You wanna run with the dog
Better stay in your place
'Cause your little ass name
Don't hold no weight

And your little ass safe
Couldn't hold my cake
Get your asks denied
Down the road I take

And let me tell you one more thing
Before I skate
If you a fake or a snake
I'mma send you to your grave

You wanna step up
Get your ass touched
You wanna rap, son
Get your ass buff

Try to test us
You's gonna get smashed up
You wanna run with the dogs?
Get your cash up

Git it
You gotta get your straps up
Git it
You gotta get your stash up

Git it
You gotta get amped up
You wanna run with the dogs?
Get your cash up

I'm a First Staff OG
From outta the gutter
With a fucked up demeanor
For you, punk mothafuckas

Get played like some dicks
Who try to start ruckas
I'm a real gun busta
So don't ever try to rush us

Can't nobody touch us
That don't leave on crutches
Or worse
Get a ride in a hearse

With their bodies covered
It's gonna be a cold summer
As soon as the hilt drops
All bullshit will stop

A couple scums in the street
We don't care what you bustas think
It might sink in sometime
But I won't blink

We go against everything
Smoke all the green
Got the flow wrong
Swing it, ain't nothing to me

We put it down anywhere
Like it's something to see
So all you bitches goin' rogue
With your haters degree

And when you wanna get loud
Son, I'm ready to work
Punks act up
And you bound to get hurt

You wanna step up
Get your ass touched
You wanna rap, son
Get your ass buff

Try to test us
You's gonna get smashed up
You wanna run with the dogs?
Get your cash up

Git it
You gotta get your straps up
Git it
You gotta get your stash up

Git it
You gotta get amped up
You wanna run with the dogs?
Get your cash up

these lyrics are submitted by BURKUL

Songwriter(s): Peabo Bryson
Copyright: Peabo Music, WB Music Corp.
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