It Ain't Nothin'

In 1991, an artist in Compton picked up Cypress Hill's debut album
 What he heard blew him away
 A futuristic funk
 Mixed with the die-hard dedication
 To a certain earth
 This is the story of Cypress Hill
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 I used to carry a Glock on the waist line
 Man, I don't waste time
 I'm strong on the bass line
 You'll never taste mine
 See me on the screen, fuckers beggin' for face time
 Get your own tape, but don't bother to chase mine
 I got a block, man, we havin' a great time
 You couldn't fill the shoes any time that I laced mine
 Light up the stage for the homies we make shine
 Sick the dogs on you get more by the K-9
 Homies on the yard never walk in the main line
 The manes find that they can never be in the game
 I'm lettin' off rounds, hittin' blunts at the same time
 Pick crews homie, you a neon to save time
 Bitches like you always spittin' the same rhymes
 We put you all to shame
 You never went through the same grind
 Put you in the bind from the minute you came by
 So stay in your lane and get wet by the rain
 You wanna step up, get your ass touched
 You wanna rap, son? Get your ass buff
 Try to test us, you gonna get smashed up
 You wanna run with the dogs?
 Get your cash up
 Get it
 You gotta get your straps up
 Get it
 You gotta get your stash up
 Get it
 You gotta get amped up
 You wanna run with the dogs?
 Get your cash up
 I'm right here on the block
 When it's time to ride out, you know what I'm all about
 Hundred Harley bikes on site when it goes down
 Me and my homies, we always holdin' the fort down
 Come up in our town and your pissin' a fourth now
 Got four ounces and three bottles of Jack
 Two-fifth's in the back and everyone I'm with's strapped
 Whatever happened to chin checkin' and wreckin' fools
 Try disrespecting me my Smith & Wesson is endin' you
 And I ain't changed since back in the day
 Get your shit split quick if you get in my face
 You wanna run with the dog
 Better stay in your place
 'Cause your little ass name, don't hold no weight
 And your little ass safe couldn't hold my cake
 Get your access denied down the road I take
 And let me tell you one more thing before I skate
 If you a fake or a snake, I'ma send you to your grave
 You wanna step up, get your ass touched
 You wanna rap, son? Get your ass buff
 Try to test us, you gonna get smashed up
 You wanna run with the dogs?
 Get your cash up
 Get it
 You gotta get your straps up
 Get it
 You gotta get your stash up
 Get it
 You gotta get amped up
 You wanna run with the dogs?
 Get your cash up
 Stacked up, stacked up, stacked
 Stacked up, stacked up, stacked
 Stacked up, stacked up, stacked
 Stacked up, and you bound to get hurt
 I'm a First Staff OG from outta the gutter
 With a fucked up demeanor for you punk motherfuckers
 Get played like sucking dicks who try to start ruckas
 I'm a real gun busta, so don't ever try to rush us
 Can't nobody touch us that don't leave on crutches
 Or worse, get a ride in a Hearse with their bodies covered
 It's gonna be a cold summer
 As soon as the hilt drops
 All bullshit will stop
 A couple scums in the street
 We don't care what you bustas think
 It might sink in sometime, but I won't blink
 We go against everything
 Smoke all the green
 Got the flow wrong, swing, it ain't nothing to me
 We put it down anywhere like it's something to see
 So all you bitches goin rogue with your haters degree
 And when you wanna get loud son I'm ready to work
 Punks act up and you bound to get hurt
 You wanna step up, get your ass touched
 You wanna rap, son? Get your ass buff
 Try to test us, you gonna get smashed up
 You wanna run with the dogs?
 Get your cash up
 Get it
 You gotta get your straps up
 Get it
 You gotta get your stash up
 Get it
 You gotta get amped up
 You wanna run with the dogs?
 Get your cash up