Music Video

Credits

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Louis Freese
Louis Freese
Composer
Lawrence Muggerud
Lawrence Muggerud
Composer
DJ Muggs
DJ Muggs
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Muggs
DJ Muggs
Producer
Michael Barbiero
Michael Barbiero
Mixing Engineer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Troy Staton
Troy Staton
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Ya está dicho, está hecho en la sangre De todos los criminales Del grupo de Cypress Hill ¡Pa' que sepan! Estamos en tu cara otra vez Y no nos vamos a ir en tu? I do it to ya all like in your earhole, cuz I'ma "Goodfella" just like De Niro, punk I'm a ten, you just a fucking zero, huh I get your woman off like Robbie Shapiro, what? You want jellyroll son, I'm a hero, oh You're on your knees on my dick like a clit hoe then You say you hate me but you follow my career though huh Wanna see a trick? I make you disappear yo, yo I make it hotter than a fuckin' inferno Wanna test you comin' up shorter than DeVito I'll scar your face when I cut you like Pacino You gamble with your life inside of my Casino Hold up I'm runnin' shit just like Gambino I got the hogs sweatin' more than Bob Barino I switch tongue cuando estás en mi camino Then I switch it back cuz in that style I swing yo' Beat your head like a drum yeah, a todo ritmo I sit back simply pretend I'm Ringo Slay you any style yeah whatever type of lingo I'm a natural killer like Tarantino, yeah Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Call me breakin' think you know my nigga Dino With the Ratpack nigga sippin' on vino I give it to you double XXL like Chino I'm the eastsidah who's reppin' Angelino's I know you trippin' but I'm due another single, ha Treat the music like my honey got a wrinkle, yeah I'm the mushroom making people tickle You couldn't hang with a joint from Domingo's So, you gotta make room when you hear my jingle Like I crack your head with the bat, big Bambino style (boohya) You smoked out there in San Bernadino We fuck shit up with the hardcore estilo Bandido, light your lighter then a kilo I'm Megatron got you wet like a Primo Cancerous rhyme now that you needin' chemo Peace to my fam out in El Cerrino That's right punk, it's the soul asesino Better watch your back, who's pilin' up cochinos? Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Killin' niggas like a Sicilian named Gino When your numbers up all my nigga yell regal You a fine woman, was a fine Filipino, then She looked good in the black Benzino, yeah Yo' style's not yours like Doritos With the fabulous fall just like the Beatles Platinum dust oh now you wanna sprinkle, well I clown niggas much more than Melenko's, heh For all the wild ones and all my vecinos Never get your ass caught up with a stank hoe Pussy weigh deeper than a big fucking cinco Don't be mad I'm lookin out for my amigo You wanna copy my style? go to Kinko's Watch me, I'm reloaded, just like Carlito My style so dope they should label it illegal You want beef? then I call my nigga Steve-o Whip your ass up just like Niccoleo Sayin' my name burst your mark like Tapatío, punk You can't deal with it, you can't deal with it You can't deal with it, it's Cypress Hill with it Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit Run your mouth, with your chest out Go get you a wreck check, dealt with real quick All that fake tough guy shit, rough guy shit All that rah rah shit, go get your neck slit That's right comepingas, mira, óyeme Te voy a decir una cosa: el Capitán Pingaloca No juega a ningún juego ¿sabes qué? ¡Voy a venir con el machete a cortarte la cabeza hijo de puta! No me gustan estos maricones que vienen por aquí Con el pecho saca'o, hablando cosas mierdas. Mira, maricón, te corto el corazón y me lo como Y despues me echo un mojón con tu comida Jajaja pa' que sepas, así son las cosas ¿Cómo se dice? ¡Revolución compadre!
Writer(s): Louis M. Freeze, Larry E. Muggerud Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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