Krayzie
Don't niggas don't wanna start shit. Buck, buck to the bang. Sendin' bullets to the brain, nigga. Yeah.
A nigga that always at my city with me, now, who was that nigga they put in the plastic? Nigga that thought he could bang. That nigga's stuck. That nigga's blasted. They got my man from the Land. Never ran, I step with deadly men. If ya come a little bit closer, I can turn you into sand. Now follow me, now roll, stroll down to Cleveland. We thuggin', we theivin', we put it in deep, and the blood is seepin'. Got niggas in alleys, fuck niggas in badges. We say bang! Eighty-eight through ten-five—my clique. St. Clair ain't shit to fuck with. Pumpin', Krayzie be bumpin', dumpin' the bloody body. Me never knew one that could flow with the tongue. We comin' to shoot up your posse. My niggas, they comin' up out the woods, to get the goods. Krayzie be thug, and want to die, that's from comin' up in my hood. We killas. Get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun, bust one, they done. Cleveland is where we from. Hearts, thugs have none.
High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off, there's really no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my clique is. Even the bitches carry guns. [*2]
Bizzy
Soon as I hit the scene, scene, scene, feelin' for a pistol, but I didn't have no gun. Come with original thugsta shit. I be flippin' it with-a-me tongue. Nigga, Cleveland is the city where we come from, and I show them hoes up outta the Clair that thugs don't run from none. Follow Rip one, now, on and on, them definitely got me back. And I'm throwin' up St. Clair thugsta nigga, with or without my gat. Forever be ready to pull out me murderin' tools East 99 style, fool! Me put it in mind on murderin' you, followin' whenever me murder is true. Niggas that claim to bang bang, when it comes to slang thangs, they don't. They know they cannot buck me, one of 'em sure to slug me, but they hope the thug I be, Bizzy. Better let 'em him be or they'll see nigga, hangin', swangin'. Never to miss—The Biz is me.
Krayzie
High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off, there's really no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my clique is. Even the bitches carry guns. [*2]
Layzie
Livin' in the Land of the Heartless with a sawed-off pump, shootin' craps. Hand on my strap, roll thick, 'cause they jack. Runnin' up on the Bone, you need to be pap pap. Soldier thugs be pumpin' them slugs, defendin' they drugs. When they roll up, niggas be creepin' up slow, heavy packed with they gats, and try to pull a hold up. But nigga, now hold on. Wanna test the Bone? The gauge is shown. Any mind is blown, lookin' down the barrel of this Mossberg chrome to the dome. Bone, clack back me gauge in a rage, copper take these here rocks. Double glock, my pistols be pumpin' and buckin' out shots whenever the trouble knocks. Steadily hittin', me clean up, get lit up forever your soul'll burn. And I blow your shit up, get 'em on the get up. These niggas must learn. Yearnin' to earn cheese. Ready to die, so niggas can't take these. Want to clock G's, want to move keys, not takin' a loss on my green leaves, please. East nine nine, crime finds mine, strayin' on this road to hell, and prison walls, testin' balls, f
or the cause, gotta get that sale, and bailin', kickin' up mud, rollin' 9-deep my thugs. Rippin' apart shit, so nigga, don't start shit, 'cause we kill in the Land of the Heartless. Die!
Krayzie [Layzie]
High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off, there's really [really no place to run!] no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my clique is. Even [Even the bitches carry guns] the bitches carry guns. [*6]
