| Lyrics: | Bizzy:
It's East 1999 time.
I promise that I'll hunt you bastards, zip 'em in
casket, here to get drastic,
fast in a hurry. Is you ready for me magic? Let 'em blast, and
nigga, bet I
(?), then move, true to the murder mo, gladly, 'cause the haters never had
to
have me, want to follow fools through alleys, 'cause ready to lose and
daddy who raised me like
Layzie, Krayzie, probably St. Clair babies, so
hate me, but I handle my business, so lately I
can handle my shady, kill
'em, but we think I'm a bomb again, no leavin' as they put me in
prison
and give me time, I'm ready for the gun to go get 'em and I'm a fill 'em
with
eleven of mine and one die. Is he ready to lie if I decide, lookin' at
my killin's in his eyes
and boom to go bye, I'm gonna fly [fly], whom die
they lie.
Flesh:
Whom
die they lie.
Krayzie:
No mo' mercy . . .
Flesh:
Whom
die they lie. [Shot.]
Flesh:
Now, who wanna go snitch? Talk shit about real
trues, still be payin'
dues, saw them sneakin', and a nigga gettin' sick of all the playas,
they
hatin'. Why so many fakers runnin' they mouth (...?...) and they lose,
lookin' so
deep eyes, and tell it when they lyin', stop tryin', but they never
convince none, got hundreds
runnin' up with gauges. Still I'm sure they
sure they fryin' us, but I buck, sometimes I save
it, for me kill 'em off late
at night. So, what if it got too late for me to get 'em? Then
gotta switch
to testin' G's. In this game I aim to keep away from every crazy
steady,
we're too quick to pull petty bullshit. Y'all thought that you could fuck
with
the Cleveland thugstas, #1 fillin' his gun, and I wish you would,
bitch, pop, (...?...) and
have to show you through, when Bone thugs
comin' in, it's a headline. Time to get on top of
(?) when they got (?) all
over this nation, world, and I plan on, now look at you bustas get
mad.
Beat the fuckas on their own line, don't make 'em tell it to ya twice, when
you crack
a grip, keep it real, but you should (?) pay the price (?).
Layzie:
Whom die
they lie.
Krayzie:
No mo' mercy . . .
Layzie:
Whom die
they lie [Shot.]
Layzie:
Time to stick it for the thugsta, thugsta, little
sneaky muthafucka on a
mission, grind, be plottin' for it quickly. Who fried? Do or die,
nigga,
you and I for the creep on the come up, and pay these niggas a visit. So is
it,
was it, wicked ways, got me strugglin' for days. Hey, a nigga's gotta
eat, so yo, I gotta get
paid and blaze. So swift not to catch a case, crept
up in his place while the nigga was gone
for his safe and his stones, and
it's on, 'cause the Bones havin' a say, I won't forget this
evenin'. Nigga
had theif, Little Layzie Bone, thievin', 'cause he had cameras hid off
into
his ceiling. Pin me, niggas run away, they said they lookin' for me, but
I'm a find
a nigga killin' before this nigga find me. Y'all niggas know a
murder-bound city, see me when
I'm servin' now, parlay it down, breakin'
it down in the C-Town, spot 'em on the avenue, (?)
he's passin' through,
get 'em at the next red light, green light, got the go ahead, infrared
on
your forehead. Whom die they lie.
Krayzie:
Whom die they lie.
No
mo' mercy . . .
Whom die they lie. [Shot.]
I'm that nigga with the shot and,
red-hand, answerin' niggas, poppin'
enemy. Drop 'em. Me gotta get 'em, kill 'em before they
get the coppers
on us, and you know the bitches want us, but as soon as they close,
it's
the pap pap, pardon me. Take a look, and what you see--Krayzie still
runnin' from
the police, 'cause I got a fuckin' bag of weed. I'll be leavin'
sale now on the scene. I can
do it. I can kill 'em if he gotta be a casualty.
He after me, but I'm a put a bullet through
your head. Shoulda fled, but
you didn't, so bye-bye. Take 'em a couple a days to get your
body outta
the sea, meet your fuckin' fate and in grave lay. St. Clair, Wasteland, all
my
niggas comin', oh but they can't take it, if you wanna make it, break
'em, hey, or can't a
nigga get paid, or your fuckin' with some niggas in
some desperate days. Crime, yes, it pays,
if it's cool with it, cool with it,
never act a fool with it, broad, 'cause your losin' me.
Tell a muthafuckin'
nigga, 'cause a nigga told another nigga, "I know who did it."
Rollin'
with the thuggish bunch of all. Testin' nuts, and, nigga, we'll cut your
balls.
It's Mr. Sawed-off, Sawed-off. Whom die, die, whom die, die,
they
lie.
Krayzie:
Whom die they lie.
No mo' mercy . . .
Whom die they
lie. [Shot |
