I'm comin' through for Willie Cypress Hill Oh baby, got that crop on your trunk Goin' gangsta crazy, it's the real life Hustlers playin' games in the street We got that low rider, scrapin', tippin' on three So pop your collar, give a holler, throw them doves in the air We tear the roof off the mother lady, let down your hair Playin' to that thing that make you feel alright Fuck that Drake, crack that Broly, gettin' freaky tonight Now when people are done burpin', they head to this You wonder why you wanted anything instead of this We been makin' ya bounce for many years already Rock steady and cut, many niggas took a betty But I just wanna blaze it up, whether it's the mic or a spliff Yes, my gift is to amaze you all Thought I couldn't cut for ten, my friend, but guess what I slay niggas and still savin' my best nut But you better cover your eyes, cause you never know when I spit it out, it starts a flowin' I drop rhymes, they grow like trees, you're smokin' Eardrums feel like lungs, your brain's chokin' Just let it soak in, seepin', creepin' I'm keepin' all you motherfuckers in the deep end You on a trip, then I got luggage I stub you and it send you off, cause you ain't workin' I'm comin' through for Billy Cypress Hill Oh baby, got that cock for your trunk Goin' gangsta crazy, it's a real life Hustlers playin' games in the street We got that low ride, I'm scrapin', tippin' on three So pop your collar, give a holler, throw the doves in the air We tear the roof off the marble lady, let down your hair Playin' to that thing that make you feel alright So that you ain't crack that brew, we gettin' freaky tonight Cause we're Cypress Hill, come on and ride with us Just get inside, we bout to dip and chop it up real tough Lean to the side, pip your hat, tilt your seat all back Don't front on me, baby boy, and break bread with the sack I be the bopper with the flying hood, ridin' the Rattler Always roll deep on the streets like the Mafia Way through, jazz might come back and haunt ya Flossin' too much, them boppers gonna want ya Not right here, homes, we're past all of that Makin' that fade, y'all slittin' their ass Y'all make no sense, I'm down for my guy, yeah Cypress hat, yeah, put on that smile Hey, y'all too cyrus, we don't play that shit And your band, they'll get hit real quick What's up, per se, what hood you claim? Throwin' up and down like it ain't no thing Hands in the air with the pinky rings Soul assassins runnin' everything To all you vatos, make sure you check this In every video, I'm well-respected I'm bumpin' through Fort Millie, Cypress Hill Oh, baby, got that cork on your trunk Goin' gangsta crazy, it's a real life Hustlers playin' games in the street We got that loot right now, scrapin', tippin' on three So pop your collar, give a holler Throw your doves in the air We tear the roof off the mother lady Let down your hair, playin' to that thing That make you feel alright Suck that drink, crack that brew We gettin' freaky tonight Good girl, good Good girl, good Good girl, good Good girl, good