"Bitch-ass motherfucka! Peter Pie ass nigga! Stand on your own two feet    bitch! How the fuck you gon' bite somebody else's dick nigga? Yours ain't    long enough to put in your mouth!       [Background]: `Turn that shit up louder!'    What's up with that shit? 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 motherfucker 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 niggaz game    But I'm the wrong nigga you wanna fuck with    On my dick so hard, now ya wanna suck it    Go on the head, gobble up the nuts    Get your lips ready and tear this motherfucker up    Talk about Eazy, correct yourself    Cube better sit back and check himself       "Yeah nigga, my homie thought he had a homie in you. He let you listen to    our muthafuckin' cut, and you turned around and put some old variety shit    out. What kind of shit is that? Hmmm..."       Let's talk about this    First solo album on the east coast dig    The east coast niggaz all showed ya love    Especially the one known as the King Sun    He tried to warn us niggaz 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    Fuck it, lemme make this understood    Speakin' on Mama's little 'Boys in the Hood'    No Vaseline    Just a rope and a chair and gasoline    Lynch Mob is a friend of mine    But you talked about them niggaz from behind    You know what the hossack is O'Shea    A motherfucking 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-ass wit' your mothafuckin' name on it cube. You wanna    come collect it, or should I bring it to you? `Cause all that bullshit you    doin', ain't shit fly about that shit... motherfuckin' thing, and I ain't    bullshittin'. You beat them back then fuck off, and that's real. Kick    rocks buster."       Natural Born Bullshitta    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 shit    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 fucking up his good day    Unoriginal rap veteran    The nigga who say he don't steal from his friends    Don't trust that nigga named O'Shea    Fuck 'im, and send him on his way!       "Cypress muthafuckin' Hill, the hardest mothafuckin' posse there is out here    nigga. So how d'you figure you was gonna step to this? Yeah nigga, the big    damn-wham-bam Cypress Hill. Tibby-tibby-toe fool, all for your mothafuckin'    dope. Nigga you can't hang with the hill. W' the fuck you was thinkin'    about? You know you step to this, you gotta step correct, `cause Cypress    ain't havin' that shit. Yeah nigga, we crack and fuck you next, who gives a    fuck, a mad fuck? So bring it on, if you wanna test it."