Оригинален текст
Bizzy:
It's East 1999 time.
I promise that I'll hunt you b*stards, zip 'em in casket, here to get drastic, fast in a hurry. Is you ready for me magic? Let 'em blast, and nigg*, bet I bury, then move, true to the murder mo, gladly, 'cause the haters never had to have me, want to follow fools through alleys, 'cause ready to lose and daddy who raised me like Layzie, Krayzie, probably St. Clair babies, so hate me, but I handle my business, so lately I can handle my shady, kill 'em, but won't think I'm a bomb again, not even if they put me in prison and give me time, I'm ready for the killin', go get 'em, and I'm a fill 'em with eleven of mine and one die. Is he ready to lie if I decide, lookin' at my killin' and decide to boom to go bye, I'm gonna fly fly, whom die they lie.
Flesh:
Whom die they lie.
Krayzie:
No mo' mercy . . .
Flesh:
Whom die they lie. Shot.
Flesh:
Now, who wanna go snitch? Talk s**t about real trues, still be payin' dues, saw them sneakin', and a nigg* gettin' sick of all the playas, they hatin'. Why so many fakers runnin' they mouth bulls**t and they lose, lookin' so deep in they eyes, and tell it when they lyin', stop tryin', but they never convince none, got hundreds runnin' up with gauges. Still I'm sure they sure they fryin' us, but I buck, sometimes I save it, for me kill 'em off later, man. So, what if it got too late for me to get 'em? Then gotta switch to testin' G's. In this game I aim to keep away from every crazy steady, we're too quick to pull petty bulls**t. Y'all thought that you could fk with the Cleveland thugstas, #1 fillin' his gun, and I wish you would, b*tch, pop, (...?...) and have to show you through, when Bone thugs comin' in, it's a headline. Time to get on top of mountain top when they got (?) all over this nation, world, and I plan on, now look at you bustas get mad. Beat the fkas on their own line, don't make '
em tell it to ya twice, when you crack a grip, keep it real, but you sure will pay the price (?).
Layzie:
Whom die they lie.
Krayzie:
No mo' mercy . . .
Layzie:
Whom die they lie Shot.
Layzie:
Time to stick it for the thugsta, thugsta, little sneaky muth*fka on a mission, got me plottin' for it quickly. Who fried? Do or die, nigg*, you and I for the creep on the come up, and pay these a visit. So is it, was it, wicked ways, got me strugglin' for days. Hey, a nigg*'s gotta eat, so yo, I gotta get paid and blaze. So swift not to catch a case, crept up in his place while the nigg* was gone for his safe and his stones, and it's on, 'cause the Bones havin' a say, I won't forget this evenin'. nigg* had theif, Little Layzie Bone, thievin', 'cause he had cameras hid off into his ceiling. Pin me, run away, they said they lookin' for me, but I'm a find a nigg*, kill him, 'fore this nigg* find me. Y'all know I'm murder-bound, see me when I'm servin' now, parlay it down, breakin' it down in the C-Town, spot 'em on the avenue, follow he's passin' through, get 'em at the next red light, green light, got the go ahead, infrared on your forehead. Whom die they lie.
Krayzie:
Whom die they lie.
No mo' mercy . . .
Whom die they lie. Shot.
I'm that nigg* with the shotty runnin' at you , poppin' enemy. Drop 'em. Me gotta get 'em, kill 'em before they get me. Coppers on us, and you know the girls want us, but as soon as they close, it's the pap pap, pardon me. Take a look, and what you see--Krayzie still runnin' from the police, 'cause I got a fkin' bag of weed. I believe in sale, now, on the scene. I can do it. I can kill 'em if he gotta be a casualty. He after me, but I'm a put a bullet through your head. Shoulda fled, but you didn't, so bye-bye. Take 'em a couple a days to get your body outta the sea, meet your fkin' fate and in grave lay. St. Clair, Wasteland, all my comin', oh but they can't take it, if you wanna make it, break 'em, hey, or can't a nigg* get paid? Oh, you're fkin' with some in some desperate days. Crime, yes, it pays, if it's cool with it, cool with it, never act a fool with it, broad, 'cause your lose. And me kill a muth*fkin' nigg*, 'cause a nigg* told another nigg*, "I know who
did it." Rollin' with the thuggish bunch of all. Let 'cha nuts hang, nigg*, and cut your balls. It's Mr. Sawed-off, Sawed-off. Whom die, die, whom die, die, they lie.
Krayzie:
Whom die they lie.
No mo' mercy . . .
Whom die they lie. Shot.
