Lirik Lagu Throw Your Hands In The Air (Remix) - Cypress Hill F/ Def Squad Artists, MC Eiht
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Intro: Sen Dog
YeahBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul AssassinsCypress Hill joint.Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up......so get it on kid!
Verse One: Erick Sermon
Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forteQuicker done than O.J., heyI freaks my shit, E the lyrical masterStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast yaLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?And unwind and chill, with Cypress HillHuh, I go on with my bad selfI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smokerBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixesI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixesNever walk through the crowd sluggishI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish RuggishThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMONI gets real determinedAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bassI take it to your face with this here lyrical maceAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognizeI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed
Verse Two: B-Real
Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hitsNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimateFools get real, yo I'm representin the HillWith chips and clips and tons of blue steelSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?Then try and test this, buddha blessed GeminiYou get thrown sent home in a coffinPunk stuff don't make it back, very oftenI got Erick to take care of the SermonAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burninBustin open the doors to the templeTakin you to the dark side of your mental
Chorus: B-Real
Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleysThrow your hands in the airKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleysThrow your hands in the air
Chorus
Verse Three: Redman
I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchyfinger up on the pen, be like "He the bomb, dicky!"These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off meSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*Turn up my level adjust my voice pitchHoist this diagnosis, comatosisis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shitRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypestindividual, to put criminal in diapersWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitchYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisisin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!With my nigga Keith in the place takin chargeWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murderYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of
Chorus
Verse Four: MC Eiht
Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hangThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thangDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dipBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clipCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal meHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel meKeep your hands on your hood, you get gotThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor SpockYou wish you could hang, like I hangDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thingG, the trigga finger, I'ma get youHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split youAin't no poppin, no stoppinTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your blockThrow your hands in the air, don't bite thisI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress
Chorus
Chorus
Outro: Sen Dog
Aight, for everybodyAll our peeps out on the cornersAll the alleywaysFor all our decesedIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streetsNineteen ninety-fiveSoul Assassins in your mind
YeahBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul AssassinsCypress Hill joint.Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up......so get it on kid!
Verse One: Erick Sermon
Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forteQuicker done than O.J., heyI freaks my shit, E the lyrical masterStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast yaLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?And unwind and chill, with Cypress HillHuh, I go on with my bad selfI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smokerBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixesI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixesNever walk through the crowd sluggishI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish RuggishThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMONI gets real determinedAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bassI take it to your face with this here lyrical maceAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognizeI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed
Verse Two: B-Real
Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hitsNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimateFools get real, yo I'm representin the HillWith chips and clips and tons of blue steelSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?Then try and test this, buddha blessed GeminiYou get thrown sent home in a coffinPunk stuff don't make it back, very oftenI got Erick to take care of the SermonAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burninBustin open the doors to the templeTakin you to the dark side of your mental
Chorus: B-Real
Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleysThrow your hands in the airKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleysThrow your hands in the air
Chorus
Verse Three: Redman
I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchyfinger up on the pen, be like "He the bomb, dicky!"These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off meSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*Turn up my level adjust my voice pitchHoist this diagnosis, comatosisis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shitRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypestindividual, to put criminal in diapersWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitchYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisisin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!With my nigga Keith in the place takin chargeWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murderYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of
Chorus
Verse Four: MC Eiht
Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hangThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thangDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dipBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clipCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal meHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel meKeep your hands on your hood, you get gotThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor SpockYou wish you could hang, like I hangDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thingG, the trigga finger, I'ma get youHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split youAin't no poppin, no stoppinTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your blockThrow your hands in the air, don't bite thisI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress
Chorus
Chorus
Outro: Sen Dog
Aight, for everybodyAll our peeps out on the cornersAll the alleywaysFor all our decesedIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streetsNineteen ninety-fiveSoul Assassins in your mind
