Cypress Hill - No Rest For The Wicked lyrics

"b**h-a** motherf**a! Peter Pie a** n***a! Stand on your own two feet, b**h! How the f** you gon' bite somebody else's dick, n***a? Yours ain't long enough to put in your mouth! What's up with that sh**?" (Background): "'Turn that sh** up louder!' Muggs, make it rough." So many fools swingin' from my sack Let's talk about the one who had my back Down in the west coast, so lemme kick it To the motherf**er who calls himself "wicked" No rest, no peace, no sleep Doughboy rolling down the Hill 'cause it's all steep Jackson, lemme figure out the name Jack 'cause you be stealing other n***az' game But I'm the wrong n***a you wanna f** with On my dick so hard, now ya wanna s** it Go on the head, gobble up the nuts Get your lips ready and tear this motherf**er up Talk about Eazy, correct yourself Cube, better sit back and check yourself "Yeah, n***a! My homie thought he had a homie in you. He let you listen to our motherf**in' cut, and you turned around and put some old "Friday" sh** out. What kind of sh** is that?" Hmmm... Let's talk about this First solo album on the east coast dick The east coast n***az all showed ya love Especially the one known as the King Sun He tried to warn us n***az about ya But nobody would listen Even began dissin' Two albums later, you callin' my crew All because ya wanna be Cypress Cube Shoulda known that you couldn't hang in the alley Good boy went to school out in the valley f** it, lemme make this understood Speakin' on Mama's little 'Boys in the Hood' "No Vaseline" Just a rope and a chair and gasoline (burning your a** up!) Lench Mob is a friend of mine But you talked about them n***az from behind "You know what a chazzer is, O'Shea? A motherf**ing pig that don't fly straight" Where ya gonna run to? Where ya gonna hide? Taadow, look at who's waitin' outside "I got a can of kick-a** wit' your motherf**in' name on it, Cube. You wanna come collect it, or should I bring it to you? 'Cause all that bullsh** you doin', ain't sh** fly about that sh**... motherf**in' thing, and I ain't bullsh**tin'. You beat them back then f** off, and that's real. Kick rocks buster." Natural Born Bullsh**ta Lemme hit ya with a dose of reality when I get wit' ya Your homie came knockin', he had to chain my suit You put a pipe on your cover, even though you don't smoke Buddha Let me take you down under on a plane While everybody was going insane Took a look at the Real one: afro gone The next morning, you didn't have yours on How many ways will you bite my sh**? Would ya wet me or start throwing up a set? Caution, when you enter the zone Never used to bang 'til you hit the microphone I got Cube melting in a tray Pulling up his card and f**ing up his "good day" Unoriginal rap veteran The n***a who say he don't steal from his friends Don't trust that n***a named O'Shea f** 'im, and send him on his way! "Cypress muthaf**in' Hill, the hardest mothaf**in' posse there is out here n***a. So how d'you figure you was gonna step to this? Yeah n***a, the big damn-wham-bam Cypress Hill. Tibby-tibby-toe fool, all for your mothaf**in' dope. n***a, you can't hang with the hill. W' the f** you was thinkin' about? You know you step to this, you gotta step correct, 'cause Cypress ain't havin' that sh**. Yeah n***a, we crack and f** you next, who gives a f**, a mad f**? So bring it on, if you wanna test it."