Krayzie:
Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up. Shoot 'em up. Shoot 'em up.
Twelve gauges bust up in ya. Playa haters, we be quick to pin ya.
You know we know you don't wanna roll,
'cause when we give it to ya, we're gonna bring it to ya. Oh, yeah.

Layzie:
Right off the jump, ooh, now I gotsta let you know when you see me runnin', rollin' with them big shotguns, and we deep when
we creep, never sleepin' and we droppin' them whammies on fools, who wanna get dumb and numb. Now, that you know like
that. These niggas come around; they don't know how to act. In fact, I'm at the track in the back with a couple of my cats in
the hood, smokin' weed and up to no good, Red Dog in the trunk, and we rollin' that. Bang or slang. Now bail on over to
your thugs, so me and the rest of these thugs can marinade, marinade. We straight. Get high, so high, that's how my mental,
that's how my mental state is like. Parlay, parlay, like everyday. Don't think I don't pin playa hation ya, but ya better pinnin'
yourself, or contend with the M-11, .357 automatic weapons from my shelf. The niggas wanna take my health and wealth,
check yourself, tryin' to contend, but they couldn't win. You took it to the head with a fifth of Hen, now we in a
red Five-hundred Benz, oh, we roll, roll. Drop the top, and lock the locks, cock the glock, 'bout to hit this corner, livin' like a
thug on the real. Who's stronger when I put it on ya, on ya? All playa haters goners.

Krayzie:
Murder, mo murda, mo murda, mo murda them all. They fall. They fall. Buck. Buck. Oh, yeah. Niggas--they get it then
pissed off, and a, and a to fuck with the wrong muthafuckas. They fall (quick) when we buck, bitch, ooh, we got somethin' to
put you back into your trunk quick. Hey, that fo'-fo' magnum, gon' handle 'em, ain't no nigga badder, .357 put that ass on the
mat, execution, I'll be shootin' while you runnin' off at your mouth. You plot me, 'cause you watch me, watch me, watch me.
My nigga, we know what you're thinkin' 'bout, but bitch, if you run up and try me, I'm comin' up outta my shit with some shit
that be keepin' you runnin' and wonderin' what have I got to make sure they lit him up good. And you still find me. Where?
[You know we bullshit.] East 99, drugdealers and po-po--yeah, that's the Clair. Bone runnin' back to Mo', and that's
Cleveland, Cleveland. You know we thuggin' and theivin', theivin'. If somebody got beef, we got millions done made. I rollin'
thug records for ya, see my nigga, we com with nothin' to lose. And bitch, if ya try me, (...?...) all those bloody bodies, tryin' to
get outta the room. If I could just look up and see haters dyin' [-yin' -yin'] and flip up my mind, and whenever you think I'm
quiet, I get plots on the riot, riot--bang. That's way ya get 'em, man: [get 'em, man; get 'em, man.] sneak up on 'em, and you
kill 'em, and they won't fuck with ya no more. You havin' a party, and the weed goin' up in your body. Smokers, chill. My
niggas, gotta get me sloppy. High, oh, so, so high.
Wish:
Come on, come on, don't be shy. Let's get high.
Krayzie:
We got the herb.
Wish:
If you want some, want some. We got weed indeed. You need some, need some? Aw, yeah. I know this just might sound
crazy, but lately gotta roll with my gun, 'cause the haters they hate me, wanna hurt that nigga, Bone. Niggas somehow,
someway get paid, and quit playa hatin'. That buck to the bang, everything I got, I got 'cause we rhyme, thai rhyme. Had to
thug it out, but it came in time, just in time. And you give it to me, my thugs gon' give it you, so either way we go about this
goes, somebody's head gon' get blown. Bone gon' on with your bad self, hey, hey, hey, blowin' up your face with your
pistols and get with that buck to the bang, bang, bang. Nigga wanna roll with Bone, it's on, 'cause nigga, we cool, we cool.
Don't forget: playa haters get that buck to the bang all up in that body. Got 'em, got 'em. We won't be slippin'. We just
might be peepin' you all the time. I'm comin'. I'm gunnin', and I put that on the double nine.

Bizzy:
Shoot 'em up always, hate when I break you off and you loss and make it look to (?). Let there be coffins for all of your
offspring, now. Let there be coffins for all of your offspring for the police on the corner, creepin' up, here comes them soldiers
pullin' up, better watch one of them St. Clair niggas. Put it in a gutter, better (often) and doze ya. Really know ya should'na let
me jumpin' up out your shit, you runnin' with a gang of bitches for you, ready when I'm ready to do it you. It in my thang but a
buck, buck is small change, it's off in ten to say that they niggas was bullshittin', and the Bizzy maintain. Nigga, this the
Northcoast homie. That city where the St. Clair niggas sell dope. I hear police. Roll deep in the set, see none of us scared,
and we show that it's on, bitch. Bang. You feel the pitch of my trigger finger's a bitch. I done put it down with-a my click, and
stood on my own, and (kill flesh). And I rest on the nine, I'll be fuckin' with y'all, slangin' my dogs, and 'em all niggas been (?)
Little Bizzy, but it's all good, I still ball. And I know when ya roll, I'm snatchin' your souls with the Bone, we can show it, and
since I'm a flow, and it's all of y'all realer, my niggas, I figured I'd let 'em all know it. Playas takin' up off the style; well, if you
think I'm scared, you (dead wrong) did you think when I break you down.

Krayzie:
Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up. Shoot 'em up. Shoot 'em up.
Twelve gauges bust up in ya. Playa haters, we be quick to pin ya.
You know we know you don't wanna roll,
'cause when we give it to ya, we're gonna bring it to ya. Oh, yeah.