Album: Unreleased & Revamped(EP)
Group: Cypress Hill (featuring Fugees)
  
You say guns, I say pistola,
Well if ya' got beef son, tellia tella vocta,
Yo meet me on the island where the Cubans meet the Hatians,
A boat meet the verbal lyrical assasination,
From L.A. to Brooklyn why you doin' all that talkin',
Think ya' got us all, but your a dead man walkin,
Yo toast the host, from coasts as we boast,
When we meet again, I won't be Casper the Friendly Ghost,
You'll hear shots, like the show "Cops," 
Things are still the same, I'm still growin' crops,
Wyclef with B-Real, let me bail, betta yet,
Til' the beat kill, yo B-Real whyn't cha rip,
  
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
You open up your eyes you'll be the next one to die,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
As simple as they come is as simple as they die,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
Who told the boy to pack a .45,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
Now he rests in the place that they call paradise,
  
Fools run up, but they neva seem to last,
Scratch ya' black ass get broken like glass,
Can he pass, or does he posses the will,
Or does he need a V8 to keep him straight on the real,
Bricks are crooked, so they fall off the ledge,
Refugee camp bringin' it straight over the edge,
Yo duck as I fluff the feathers from yo' skin,
How you gonna win that's like Satin, with no sin,
It'll neva happen while I'm rappin' Ill be watchin', 
The fullest team, creapin' up in Manhatten,
The sun turn above Wyclef produce a track with mud,
But there's no survivers, they all died in the flood,
  
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
You open up your eyes you'll be the next one to die,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
As simple as they come is as simple as they die,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye, 
Who told the boy to pack a .45,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
Now he rests in the place that they call paradise,
   
Yo, once a child, twice a villain,
If this was drugs I'd make a million off this combination,
They say you're dope, Clef you're dope so they offa me sess,
And best beware, when you pull your wallet Mr. Deep stares,
The opposite direction of the woman, 
He pulled his gun and said I'm doomed,
Gonna send a man in the tomb,
I see the soldiers, com'n from out the shadows,
Ready for battle, but ain't tryin' to hear the babble,
Worry us, lined up, and who falls there, 
In it to win it, it goes on for years,
Dedicated, to the stable of assasins, 
Revolutionaries, just bring on the action,
   
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
You open up your eyes you'll be the next one to die,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
As simple as they come is as simple as they die,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
Who told the boy to pack a .45,
Hi Hi, Boom Biddey Bye Bye,
Now he rests in the place that they call paradise,

Album: Unreleased & Revamped(Ep)                 Transcribed by: G-Real
Group: Cypress Hill f/Erick Sermon, Redman & Mc Eiht
  
"Yeah, bust out we gonna bounce off this '95 Soul Assassins Cypress Hill
joint.  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up... so get 
it on kid!"
  
[Erick Sermon]
Fresh is the word, when I display
My rappin' forte
Quicker done than O.J.
Hey
I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master
Stress me out
No doubt
I might have to blast ya
Let me ask ya
Can I gets busy one time?
And unwind and chill
With Cypress Hill
Huh, I go on with my bad self
I'm the four pound toter
The Phill blunt smoker
Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes
I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes
Never walk through the crowd sluggish
I'm hardcore to the bone, I'm thuggish ruggish
The green-eyed bandit, I be Erick Sermon
I gets real determined
And one for the trouble, and two for the bass
I take it to your face
With this here lyrical mace
And if you don't know y'all better recognize
I'm coming through with speed
With pounds of weed
  
[B-Real]
Ahh shit
Another one of those gangsta hits
Niggas wanna get busy with the ultimate
Fools get real, yo I'm representin' the Hill
With chips and clips and tons of blue steel
So who wants to be the first nigga to die?
You try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini
Your dome sent home in a coffin
Punks don't make it back very often
I got Erick to take care of the Sermon
Ashes to ashes, dust bodies burnin'
Bustin' open the doors to the temple
Takin' you to the dark side of your mental
  
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
  
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
  
[Redman]
I rhyme tricky
The sticky
Smoka with the mind itchy
Finger up on the pen, be like "He the bomb, dicky!"
These off-keys
MC's
Hawk me
They won't get off me
So I kill 'em softly
And use 'em as walkie-talkies
Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch
Hoist this
Diagnosis
Comatosis
Is what I leave your crew with
Boom bip
Or some two and two shit
Raw silk, 'cause you do it to my music
(Funk Doctor Spock)
Lock the hype is
Individual
To put criminals
In diapers
With my nigga E and Cypress
What I write bitch
You swore
It was a nuclear war
Crisis
In your back yard
Word to God
Def Squad!
With my nigga Keith in the place takin' charge
Word up
You'll get hurt up
Let the jury call it murder
You're deaf 'cause I freak shit ya neva hearda
  
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
  
[MC Eiht]
Step into the park in the Hill you can't hang
The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang
Don't slip
The late night hype is when I dip
Boo-ya is the sound from unloadin' the clip
Can't feel me
If I was crack you'd try to steal me
Heard you
And your little crew
Wanna peel me
Keep your hands on your hood you get got
The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock
You wish you could hang, like I hang
Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing
G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you
Hit you, the TEC-9, I'ma split you
Ain't no poppin'
No stoppin'
Tick to the tock
Tick-tock
I hit your block
Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this
I squeeze
Nigga please
The E down with Cypress
  
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
  
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
Kickin' it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys
Throw your hands in the air
  
"Alright, for everybody.  All our peeps out on the corners, on the
alleyways.  For all our deceased, incarcerated peop's, brothers on
streets.  1995, Soul Assassins in your mind..."

Album: Unreleased & Revamped (EP)                       Transcribed by: Simon Ward
Artist: Cypress Hill
  
Whatta you know
Whatta you know
Whatta you know
 
(B-Real Verse 1)
Whatta you know
The nigga stole my dough,
So I reached in the closet for the four-fo.
Whatta you know
So just wait a minute,
It's goin' on with my big bad nickel-plated,
Whatta you know
The fucka took my phone,
I still can't believe that he robbed my home,
Whatta you know
I think he got to the herb and the feria and the jewellery and the most burg,
Whatta you know
I can't find my keys to the six-five all the way line on wheels,
Whatta you know
I can't find my Rolex with the twenty-one diamonds shining on flex,
Whatta you know
When I find that mark-ass nigga I'm a cut out his fuckin' heart.
 
(Sen-Dog Verse 2)
Whatta you know
I came up on this balla for the dollar and the weed sack and the zimpala,
Whatta you think
When ya can't trust ya so-called homey like me, 
And ya thought that ya know me,
Whatta you feel
When ya lookin' in the closet and the GATT's gone and so is ya cellular phone,
Whatta you know
I took the loop and the jewels with the Buddha and laptop and the nickel-plated
tool,
Whatta you know
Now I run the show with the phat pockets and that niggas fine gold,
Whatta you think
When ya ass gets jacked by a homey who was supposed to have ya back,
 
(B-Real Verse 3)
Whatta you know
I'm rollin' in my zone and I think I see the puto who rigged my home,
Whatta you think
I got the Glock and the gloves,
Should I thump on 'im and leave 'im lyin' in the mud,
Whatta you know
He pulled out my four-fo,
Know I got no choice,
So I let it all flow,
Whatta you know
The muthafuckers all blastin'
Four-five equal and time for some traction,
Whatta you know
Slug action, no question, .45 slug is bad for your complexion,
Whatta you know
The putos cryin' like a bitch, now the putos lyin' in a fuckin' ditch,
 
Whatta you know
You can't even trust your fuckin' best homeboys these day's homes.  
Whatta you know  
You gotta sleep with one eye fuckin' open.  
Whatta you know  
Pay back some mother fuckin' bitch.  
Whatta you know  
That puto should 'ave watched his fuckin' back.
 
Whatta you know
Whatta you know
Whatta you know
Whatta you know