Red, Meth & B Lyrics - Stoned Raiders - Cypress Hill

Why'all ready for this? 

Ha! I don't think so! 

Yeah! Oh, listen to this! 

We gonna come at ya! 

Cypress Hill! 

Yo yo yo, all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel 

A dog on four paws spittin' out the window 

Jump up! It ain't no need to fight 

We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight 

I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm 

I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms 

Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone 

My bracelet like I raised it off the farm 

Home-grown, thick, dirty 

My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey 

Jersey and house 

Gun like an elephants snout 

Pull ya ambulance out 

Ya whole team'll get bombarded 

Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists 

We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber 

Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers 

I won't leave till the job is done 

Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, run! 

Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill 

Yeah! 

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[Chorus] 

We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die 

You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high 

You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride 

You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high 

Yo, yo 

Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open 

You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan 

I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin' 

So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin' 

If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick 

Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch 

Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep 

Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat 

My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked 

Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked 

Now who's hot and who's not 

I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks 

Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture 

I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler 

Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller 

Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer 

Photos 

[Chorus] 

Take the back seat and smash beats 

Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes 

Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet 

With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko 

They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of 

I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly 

You want to be friendly on the get high Bentley 

You twisted up, burnt out within seconds 

Cause you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods 

Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten 

Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin' 

Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs 

You want to roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!) 

You want to test with the sess, well first off 

That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off 

[Chorus:Repeat x2]