Welcome to the darkside.
Backwards (Shatasha): It’s the thuggish ruggish Bone . . .
Eazy-E: Eternal. Eternal. Eternal . . .
St. Clair, niggas [niggas, niggas].
[Laughing. Scream. Thunder.]
Backwards (Bizzy): Gotta give it on up to the glock glock, pop pop, better drop before them buckshot blow. The Bone in
Me never no ho, so no creepin’ up outta the ziplock. So, Sin, sip gin, and Lil’ Mo Heart run up, nut up, and flipped in, then
Slipped in the clip then, mistakin’ they bloody victims. ‘Member to test nuts . . .
[Explosion.]
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
[Laughing.]
Right back at your muthafuckin’ ass comes those real true thugs staight of the Double Glock, puttin’ it down for the muthafuckin’
Land, takin’ no shorts, no losses, puttin’ it on these jealous, bitch-made, playa hatin’ ass niggas. You better tell me what’s real,
Bitch. Takin’ over shit in the nine five, I bring to you the one and only, Bone thugs-n-harmony.
Nigga, this St. Clair [this St. Clair, this St. Clair].
Layzie:
Yeah, nigga.
Krayzie:
Execution double nine style, steadily fillin’ them bodies underground.
Bizzy:
Nigga be all about that llello bankroll. Bet I make that money, man, then roll, put it on the dough, but I beat up hoes, and I peel
’em and bang. Gotta get them demons off me, creepin’ up softly, seepin’ up through my soul, and sleepin’ ain’t good til dawn.
When I’m alone, and I’m dozin’, bet I watch the door, then I won’t be slippin’, sleepin’. Lovin’ the thugs I bails with, but a trail
Of twelve gauge shells, blood’ll be spilled, one-eighty-seven and a two-eleven. Twelve gauge and an AK-47 spray. Lil’ Ripsta
Killa now, put ’em off in a grave—they lay with a slug stuck all up in ya. When I roll with realer niggas, pop, pop. Drop to the
Sound, hit the ground, then I’m up to kill ya.
Krayzie: