Y'all ready for this? 
Ha! I don't think so! 
Yeah! Oh, listen to this! 
We [bad word] at ya! 

[Redman] 
Cypress Hill! 
All my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel 
dog on four paws spittin' out the window 
Jump up! It aint no need to fight 
We may squeeze too tight, you gonna bleed tonight 
I eat beans and rice, [bad word] up a storm 
I walk the streets with sharp (?) off my arms 
Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone 
My bracelet like I raised it off the bomb 
Home-grown, thick, dirty 
My family few dudes who pack tools on survey 
Jersey and house 
Gun like an elephants mouth 
Pull ya ambulance out 
Ya whole team'll get bombarded 
Ya on target, and bonged 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 [bad word] take ya [bad word] 
Doc with the shotty and we both catch a (?) with Cypress Hill 
Yeah! 

 [bad word]  B-Real) 
We don't give a [bad word]  we living 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 

[Method Man] 
Yo, yo, yo 
Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open 
You either holdin' or half-assed like Shimmy Coaling 
I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin' 
So hard, [bad word] I crack the shell on ya candy coatin' 
If the shoes fit like Alan (?) did 
(?) Yo my new chicks a new [bad word] 
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 [bad word] 
Bust mines off tops, leave the rappers nerve 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 [bad word] #39; with that, lets be realer 

 [bad word]  

[B-Real] 
Take the back seat and smash beats 
Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flex ya brain cells like athletes 
When a track meets the rhymes on ya rap sheet 
With a foot long (?) bong, look your collapsing, sicko 
Thincho, on the brink of mental breakdown and [bad word] you wouldn't think of 
I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly 
You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley 
You twisted up, burnt out within seconds 
Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods 
Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten 
Star stricken, clock clickin', stop [bad word] #39; 
Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs 
You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!) 
You wanna test with the sess, well first off 
That [bad word] is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off 

 [bad word]  X2