Cypress Hill

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Scooby Doo

by Cypress Hill

Chorus (repeated several times):
Scooby-Doo, y'alllllll....
Scooby-Dooby-Doo, y'alllllll....

Verse 1: B-Real
I remember the time them niggas tried to get me (I ain't havin' it)
Throw your hands in the air, the Hill's live and direct, see
So let me put my clip in, watch this nigga start flippin'
My, why must they always be trippin'?
Shut up, what up, fool tried to nut up
Dropped the gat, riccocheted, the fool got cut up
(Why'd you drop the gat, G?) I got hit from behind
Now a nigga like me, I gotta go for mine
Bring it on, bing, make ya bells ring
When ya hit that pavement, what a feeling
It's on, cracked like a baseball bat
Oh shiiiiiiiit, out the boot came a gat
Pointed (aimed) the nigga said "You're through!"
[laughs] Scooby Doo! 'Cause I had a boy too!

Chorus
Verse 2: B-Real
I remember the time them niggas tried to get me (I ain't havin' it)
Throw your gats in the air if you wanna come test me
So let me just run through, as I pull out my Scooby-Doo
I get the chills when I see that dead man's crew
I got to get up, let's go head up, dead up
I'm loc'ed like that, punk, that's why you're gettin' wet-up
Want me to let up, but I ain't tryin' to hear that
Bullshit cryin', punk, let me just clear that
Buck a shot, lick a two shot, lick a three shot
Ran out of ammo, damn, I ain't tryin' to get got
Two niggas standin', dirty under-handed
Lighter shade of fire, check my slug expanded
Now tell me what the fuck are you gonna do
When I pull out my Scooby-Doo?

Chorus
Outro: B-Real (Mexican dialect?)
Take a good look ...'cause this is the last time you're gonna see fat bell like this again, you fat piece a chit! Kid muchacho, muchacho kid, get flabby - (oh - choot that piece a chit.) You
fuckin' lobsta piece a CHIT! I'll stomp you like a duck. And you ...you with your little happy chain of lighters ...you wanna fuck with me, you fuck with the best! And you ...you with the burly haircut, the Stawberry Quik guy ...you around the way, main. I know where you at.

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Shoot 'Em Up

by Cypress Hill

[B-Real]
Who wants the wrath, it must be the hood
who's up to no good, and wishes a man would
come up and give him a reason to blast on..
I wouldn't put it past him!
He's got juice, how long will it last him?
He's gettin back, at, all the punks that harassed him
Ask him (HEY!) what's ya main hobby?
He'll say there ain't, nothin like the motherfuckin robbery
So don't crowd me, cause yo I run shit
You know, homey that old top gun shit
I got a slug comin straight out the barrel
for your ass, if you wanna ask a dumb question
Cause I'm quick on the draw, click-click, punks drop
Now your lifes ain't worth shit!

Chorus: B-Real, Sen Dog (repeat 2X)
Shoot 'em up, just shoot 'em up y'all, yeah
Shoot 'em up, just shoot 'em up (SHOOT 'EM UP!)
Shoot 'em up, just shoot 'em up y'all, yeah
Shoot 'em up, just shoot 'em up (SHOOT 'EM UP!)

[Sen Dog]
Sen Dog, never again will I bend
No letters of death, no threats, will I send
So I'm puttin an end, to all your dumb shit
(dumb shit) dumb shit.. that, "Homes WHERE YOU FROM?" shit
Cause I run shit, my way, all day, I don't play
cause it won't pay
Niggaz wanna play with the pistol, you make me get pissed though
(YOU GET A FISTFUL!)
Make you eat knuckles, feel your knees buckle
Still feelin great when you're sleepin on the pavement?
Save it! The beatdown, who gave it?
Sen did, no one will explain it

Chorus
[B-Real]
I've had it up to HERE, with all the bullshit
Finger's on the trigger, and I'm about to pull it
Gank hardrock, up the block, you know I rule it
To the punks around the corner someone's gonna catch a bullet
To the crew, that wants, to get with my program
I'm out to get mine, and ain't takin shit from no man
in the neighborhood, cause there ain't no brotherhood
In other words, good, if you heard, that we're comin up
We're out to make a quick buck, that's what I'm thinkin
And I'm smokin any PUNK who even thinks of finkin

Chorus

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Southland Killers

by Cypress Hill

(performed by Cypress Hill / MC Ren / King Tee)
Intro: [MC Ren]
Yeah, y'all know what the fuck this is
MC motherfuckin' Ren up in this bitch nigga
Yeah, all y'all bitch-ass niggas out here talkin all that shit
We 'bout to drop this motherfucker on y'all like this (*gun being loaded*)
Punk ass niggas out here, nigga
We some Southland Killers in this motherfucker (*gun is cocked*)
(*GUNSHOT*)

[MC Ren]
Niggas all acrosss town, up in the suburbs
While niggas makin' faces like The Rock on the curb
Nigga People's Elbow, the loud-mouthed hold
And groupie niggas bangin' for passes to the show (Can I get in?)
Big-ass cheques wit' plenty of O's (O's)
And hoes wit' big lips doin' what they suposed (yeah)
Didn't have shit 'till I started to bust
And y'all got shit 'cos of my balls are cussed
Ren and Cypress Hill, they ain't liver than us
Nigga Legendary Villian, who started the fuss
Nigga double glock, cocked, get your shit rocked
Get your crib knocked, nigga have that rib popped
Under bosses and trouble, they under my rubble
Clone motherfuckers, always the villain, like The Hubble
Fuck your bubble, I bust them shits
Plaques and shit, grab my dick, spit these hits

Chorus [B-Real]
All, my niggas, do you wanna ride wit' us? (Do ya wanna ride wit us?) (Killers!)
Throw your clips up, man we's about to bust (Man we's about to bust) (Killers!)
Cy-press, Hill click, yeah we ready for war (Yeah we ready for war) (Killers!)
All y'all niggas, better just hit the floor (Killers!)

[King Tee]
I'm close to the best thing, on the West Wing
Blown out your set, flames when the best sing
It's a rep thing, haters feel they chest pain
They feel it in they heart, I was there to test things
Didn't arrest (?), the bullet-proof vest team
These niggas shoot first they they askin (?) names
It's less strain
It's all real, I bet fame, it's a chess game
Wrong move and it's checkmate (That's right)
I might sound funny out here
But really, niggas get money out here
And hey, everyday is sunny out here
So listen, don't play dummy out here
King try for bust make your whole pack run
Stacked enough cash so now I stack guns
Fat ones, all cold and black ones
Southland Killin', it's just how that's done

Chorus
[Sen Dog and B-Real]
You can try to ride with the Hill, lie on the Hill
but when your shit (?) is when die on the Hill
We get, hot on the heel, rely on the steel
When your paper gets pulled and you design is steeled
Like you, signed the deal, or signed over your will
[Sen Dog] BUSTERS GET SLAYED...!

[B-Real]
...when you fuck around with Real
Take time to feel, what I'm tellin' you hoes (Tellin' you hoes)
You couldn't fuck around with me if I was sellin' you blows
Just goes to show the incredible skill tell
Bitch nigga, now you trapped under my wig well
Gettin trampled, DUMPED on and thumped on
Scraped on the six-five with the HAND ON THE PUMP SONG

[Sen Dog]
Don't even fuck with these Southland grandes
We the vatos that run on Los Angeles
Call me Mad Dog, if you think you know me
If you're not sure then turn around and LEAVE SLOWLY!

Chorus

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Spark Another Owl

by Cypress Hill

Once again the powers of the herb open up the mind,
Seek deep inside, tell me what you find,
Come on...

[B-Real]:
Who be the ones steppin' in the room,
Everybody welcome to the temple of boom,
Back, let me see ya fat indo sack,
And get weeded, somebody, everybody need it,
Mari-Juana, Mari-Juana, do ya wanna,
Give me love when I put the flame on ya,
Homie I'm the one with the shotgun,in the closet,
Next to the fat bags full of chronic,
Puto, don't ya be steppin', with ya hands open,
Askin' me "can I get a hit of what t'cha smokein'",
I aint got no kind of love for a brother,
Who comes to the party, with no bud,
I be smokein' this, indo-blazin', funk buddah,
Everybody, wanted it, now they talk about the hooter,
Up until the summer of '91,
Wasn't no mutha fuckas talkin' 'bout smokein' blunts,
From the west coast to the east coast,
Everybody be braggin',
But , I'm the one who be puffin' most,
First it started with the nickel, then the dime,
Then the Twenty, spendin' up all my money,
Now, I roll with the nelco(?),
With the pound in the pad smokein' up the indo,
Just take a deep breath (Ahh),
Hit it then pass it to the left,
You can keep the mutha fuckin' stress,
Smoke it up, just puff it up, (O yea),
Light it up, then put your spliff up in the air,

Do you wanna spark another owl?
Do you wanna spark another owl?

Everybody spark another owl.
Everybody spark another owl.

I wanna spark another owl.
I wanna spark another owl.

Do you wanna spark another owl?
Do you wanna spark another owl?

(Sen Dog)Yea, stroll the ways of the buddah mastas, brings me to the
temple of boom, I see people everywhere startin' to understand the
point, when I'm talking about the joint, talkin' 'bout that marijuana,
talkin' 'bout the sense, talkin' 'bout the kind mota boca loa-loa
maui,maui, lugers of work- ready, mexican greenba, cheeba, cheeba y'all,

yeska, humble pound weed, the crypt, the choclate tide, the afgani, the
meefrakan, the indo, the skonka, the bad breath sense (cough).

Hello everyone, I'm Kurt Loaded, we're here t hemp TV, with
Cypress Hill in Amsterdam we're listening to there new album, I'm
stoned, I'm outta here, Goodbye folks.

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Stoned Is The Way Of The Walk

by Cypress Hill

(Chorus)
Stoned is the way of the Walk,
Stoned is the way of the Walk,

Verse 1 ( B-real)
Well, it's the Alley Cat puffin' on a hootie rat,
Some think I'm a criminal,
But, yo I ain't all of that,
Hit'cha with the baseball bat,
An' ya wanna ill though,
Wanna mess around ,
You get fucked on the hill bro,
Kick it like a steel toe, real slow,
Hits from the bong ,
Make me feel like Cheech,
And I'm kickin' it wit' Chong,
Just like Cheech & Chong frontin' with "Ice Cream",
Cypress Hill is here to give you a nice dream,
Speak it like a rolla', and you know it's rolled tightly,
I'm like the funky beat, so, why ya tryin' ta fight me,
Pigs often site me, that's not polite G,
And any hour of the day ya know I might be,
Harassed by a pig real fast,
They wanna Rodney King me,
Always tryin'a crown my ass,
Ain't got no class(Sen Dog: No Class)
I hit they' ass like the buddah thats stinkey,
They wanna' scruff but, they' just so rinky-dinky,
I'm the freaka, the one who freaks the funk,
Sen gotts the Philly, an' he's gonna light the blunt,
Sippin' curfew makes me go koo-koo,
somthin' like loco then turn in to this loocoo,
Binggin the beta,yea, now the funk is risen,
Got the beta bass and the nasal highzen,
As I kick atrip, it comin' straight from my siness,
Crazy nasal vocals, cannot make the hotties loco,
I rimemba sista Maggie, breast were kinda saggy,
Used to sell me buddah outta fucked up little,
Honeyd up a twenty even when I had no money,
She said "Pay me back with some latin dick Sonnie"
Well I neva' went out, and I don' thnk I'm gonna,
Just for some buddah, she wanted me ta bone her,
Deminin', Ya think ya meanin',
I got somethin' for the hoes ta be skeamin' on,
I'm the Buddah-Real take a trip ta hoota'ville,
I'll throw ya out the door, of my big blue Siville,
Then light another joint,
This ain't no exploition (poin't),
Cause we are the ones stonein' in the ways of the mastas,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
Stoned is the walk,
(Sen- Dog)
Hit they, hit they ass,
(B-Real)
make the buddah get stinkey
Wooooo, Woooo
(Alas, Cap'in there's a ship in sight,
Huhu, Blast 'em!)
Stonend is the walk

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Stoned Raiders

by Cypress Hill

[B-Real]:
1 for trouble, 8 for the road,
7 to get ready when I'm lettin' off all my load,
Funk, Buddha monk, in the trunk,
I got'cha, thumpin' so hard,
Up and down the blvd.,
I'm a natrual-born cap-peela', strapped illa,
I'm the west coast settin' it on, no one's reala',
Get'cha fix of the uncut funk,
A small dose of the skunk weed, like it's suppose to be,
Move it up, just move it on out,
What'cha talkin'bout son,
I got the first shot, and it's all over now,
One nation under a groove,
Smoke a pound for the strict of it,
Everytime I make a move,
Smooth and togetha,
Raw like leatha,
Ain't goin' out like a punk, neva,

Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove

[B-Real]:
It's the numba one money maker,
Money takea, few steps back I'm on a plane to Jamaica,(Am I)
Puffin' a fat wada, talk shit,
For the fool I'm thinkin' about, I got the ruff shit,
Hard rock bone breaka,
Stoned Raider, in the Temple of Boom,
Assurt to assume,
Never be lettin' shit slide, no way,
Bitch niggas can hide,
But, I'll find they ass some day,

Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove
Wherever you are, put'cha muthafuckin' spliff in the air,
Some dogs, like you gotta pair,
When I kick to the metro,
Lone clip, be lookin' around,
Cause this shit ain't over with yet,
People can't understand my situation,
Now they cought up in the Soul Assasination,
Fool, just take cover, it's all over,
When I break ya off a chunk of this muthafucka,

Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove
Check it out, 1,2, Cypress groove

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Street Wars

by Cypress Hill

{*church bells gong*}
[Verse One: B-Real]
As a kid, I was known, son of a thug
Snub-nosed .38 in the glove, who can relate with us?
Never had an easy life, shit's way out
Clips spray out, fools pay out or play out
Any scenario, been there, done that
Gone where some of y'all niggaz, couldn't come back
Been through the hottest parts of hell
Came back with a hard shell and, hard as nails
I went through it all, do it all, screw it all
Small you recall, the hard times as a juve-nile
Often misunderstood
Some joined the military, others just joined the hood
Street corner combat, part of the dark streets
Your heart beats pump when my slugs release
And there ain't no tellin, don't be the one yellin
These birds are deadly, they can shatter your melon

[Chorus 2X: B-Real]
When the street wars jump off, there's only one thing to do
Grab your gat and squeeze one off
This ain't the life of the soft ones who run off
You got one shot to get you a knot

[Verse Two: B-Real]
At the crossroads, sick of holdin the badlands
Where street wars, kick off quicker than Van Dam
Mistakes of mad man, I remember the old ways
The old days where fools clapped yo' {?}
No quarter, you feel me?
Life expectancy's just a little bit shorter
G's gave the order, you carried 'em out
Quick fast, you the last nigga I'm worried about
Get that street lead, that was one step over the edge
Much closer to death, every step I kept on
Learnin about the dark paths, made a hard left
Prayed to God death is swift and painless
This life ain't for everyone, stay out my shoes
You can't trade your fate, I hate to break the news
The young won't respect the fences these days
You a marked man if you get caught up in these ways

[Chorus]
{*pause for spooky instrumental*}
[Chorus]

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

The Phuncky Feel One

by Cypress Hill

Are you ready?
Ladies and gentlemen
Bout ready to get down?
(repeat 2x)

Ladies and gentlemen
Verse One: B-Real
Well I'm the Real one, yes the Phuncky Feel One
Cypress Hill has come, any quest/just ask them
Cause we are answerin, any brothers that've been
On the dick swingin, and straight gatherin
Enter da info, cause yo what you're in fo'
Is a crazy day, strapped in a pimp mode
Trapped like a prophet, but I still profit
Even when you're off it, bank's in my pocket
Cause of my music, what you call me chumpy?
In my trade, the Tribe is known to get funky
Hif is here to hack you sown, Son is here to buck you down
Joke's on you, if you're the biggest duck in town
You got to relax, we got to kick back
Brothers just sit back, enjoy me like a six pack
As I let the rhyme flow, into the hook
Yo where you gettin took, but that's another story black

Chorus: B-Real
Cause I'm the Real one, yes the Phuncky Feel One
I'm the Real one, yes the Phuncky Feel One
I'm the Real one, yes the Phuncky Feel One
You know I'm the Real one, yes the Phuncky Feel One

Verse Two: Sen Dog, B-Real
Night in a stiff block, hangin up the pimp's jock
Used to call me Pimp Poppa, cause I likes to hip-hop
Cause I'm down with Cypress, illin well I might
Begin to take your girl, your girl she's the flyest
Flyer than the other broad, workin off the pitched rod
Isn't that odd, instead of sayin my dick's hard
It's not about knockin you, do you feel like clockin loot?
Forget it act stupid little sucker I'll be clockin you

With the right or left hand, duck they was still stand
Troopers on the side step, bucks him down to death man
With the greater lyric, if you can spare it
Just an ass kickin, is what you inherit
So don't try to snake off, you know I can't be shook off
Why the suckers took off? Well that's another story black

Chorus
Verse Three: B-Real, Sen Dog
Standin on the corner, close to the real estate
Clones they really pull stickin brothers try to imitate
Meaning when they simulate, but they can't stimulate
Like a faded joint, stiff from the breath I take
Make me act loco, they switchin up my vocal
Out to catch you so-called, MC's with a roll call
Then you gotta close your eyes, you can't stand the sunlight
There is just one light, the Tribe's buckin heads tonigght
Buck buck buck ya head! Sorry that red is dead
Deader than a doornail, someone cold made his bed
Didn't just break out, the sucker got cracked out
Hit the pipe and blacked out, with the shit from back down
So much more integrity, greatest deal I hook up
Was a funky looker
But that's another story black

Chorus: (together)

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Till Death Comes

by Cypress Hill

[Chorus 2X]
My game so strong, I can't go wrong
My dough so long, baby why prolong
Baby we get high, Baby we get dough
Baby we can party all night till death come

[Verse One]
We been in the game for a long time
Yes we're battle tested
With the time and the emotion, and the money invested
And if you think hard
No one elses game is tighter
Check the network, up in ya fucking service provider
I bought you thug shit
Thought you drug shit
Got you bugged shit
Tell me what we havent done
We run you through course son
Leave you understanding what the street life is
But you haters never understand
So eat my dick
You better
Get on your concentration
If you ready to roll on me
And good bitches if you wanna unload on me
Cause if you miss you won't get that far
Ill have you jumping fences
And running down the treet like a track star
I'm at the finish line, its essential
We so influential
Well strip you of your street credential
Game recognize, game we all about
Think you can deminish mine
Look homey I got a career

[Chorus 2X]
[Verse Two]
They call me dog homey
Look I don't sell woof tickets
I got my fingers on the trigger
And I'm ready to click it
I never back down
Theres nothing you cand do to me nigga
Who the fuck are you
Your face is really new to me nigga
You wanna run with the dog
Try paying your dues homes
Bum nigga yelling every time that I use chrome
So many niggaz, aint none of them blast, the right lights
In the woods be stunning their ass
I took a chance
To advance, in my life believe it
It takes a stand to be a man
Plus the gang conceited
Fools trying to be hard
They only act the role
You little sorry ass bitches, Ill smack you hoes
Try to fool people
Make em think you something your not
I'm exposing all you bitches
By provoking the crowd
Raw dogging, dying for some action, drama
Your bitch shocked out
Bullets through plastic dome

[Chorus 2X]

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Tres Equis

by Cypress Hill

Conozco una muchacha y ella es fina
Tremendos cocos y tambien ella es linda
A veces me la cojo en la cocina
Esta muchacha me chupa la pinga
Yo le dije dame tu bollo
Me dice negro loco tu no eres mi novio
A mi me importa un carajo
A mi cuarto meterte un palo
Por tu culo o por tu chocha
Y ya tu sabes que no me importa
Y ella me dice suavesito
Yo pienso que tu eres bien rico
Cuando me toca por mi frente
Ya tu me tienes bien caliente
Y cuando me tocas por detras
Ya tu sabes sin parar
Acabe de singar y me levante
Fui al bano y me ban~e
Sali del cuarto y me esperaba
Con los ojos negros y bonita cara
Pongo mi camisa y mi pantalon
Se ria y me dice, "Negro sendenton"

Estaba fina
Esta muchacha estaba tan pinga
Hay! cuando se lo meti
Cuando se lo meti, grito, "papppi"
Estaba del carajo brother
No olvidate olvidate
Nunca habia singao yo como singue esa vez
Estaba fina

stamenid · Prijatelj foruma

Tu No Ajaunta

by Cypress Hill

[Sen Dog]
Ahi vamos caballero, ese el negro lo correcta
No me llames policia porque nada te protecta
Empina ese pie, persina mas un poquito
Con el perro a hueso yo lo necesito
Si estas a 5 pies de mi, yo te lo quito
Pido la espalda, tas ahi? un payasito
Te tumbo, como un control remado
Te persigo y te sigo y te meto como un palo
Juntando raperos como modos en la mesa
Sopresa, te rompi la cabeza
Te pongo a dormir, con abrazo de pescueso
No me importa lo que tengo que hacer, yo hago queso
Pasele, cuidado con mi estilo
Te mato bien matado, ya dormi un ratico...

Chorus x2:
(Checkeame tu!) Te cuelgo alto
Tenemos lo que suena, vente y te parto
Tira la bala de la loma con la bomba
(Checkeame tu!) Ten cuidado que no te rompa...

[B-Real]
Mira mira, ten cuidado, ponte en fila
Matando raperos y quitandote la vida
Me llevo la tuya, simple, no vales nada
El ultimo imagen que ves, es mi cara
Si quieres la bomba namas llamenme a mi
Cypress Hill vive, siempre tamos aqui
Corriendo el juego con el mismo fuego
Quemando los demas, tirandolo en el hueco
Ya despues que queme, yo bajo la llama
Corre, escondete bajo la cama
No te hagas bobo, mi juego apretado
Listo, preparado, como un soldado
Te corto tan malo tu madre ni te conoce
A cuantos se lo hice? tengo mas que 12
No juegues conmigo, tengo dedo cuete
Ten mucho cuidado o esta en la muerte
Pego duro, tan duro que tu no sabes
Cuando suene la campana eres uno de mis esclaves...

Chorus
[Sen Dog]
Voy a patear (Uhh!) como un sonero
Dame mi dinero, lo meto de mal empleo
Y nadie ha venido a mi
Hablando del oeste, largo de aqui
So como quieras
Y no me importa a que grupo tu perteneces
No venga por aqui hablando tierra ese
Como les tumbo pandilleros, se derriten como hielo
Les gusta hablar mucho pero no tienen huevos...

[B-Real]
Mis negros estan en juego, no te recuerdas
Haciendo los shows rapeando contra cualquiera
Fuerte con estilo que gente ni sabia
Mira que matamos a muchos ese dia
No tenian chance, los desvaratamos
Y hasta este dia todavia melozamos
Vete pa tras, negro te doy patadas
No vale na, dale con la mota
Te rompo la quijada, estoy en tu ciudad
Si tienes una esposa la dejo viuda...

Chorus

Manhattan · Psycho Killer

......lista songova Cypress Hilla koji su dosad postavljeni (abecedni red):

3 Lil Putos
Ain't goin out like that
A man
Amplified
Another body drops
Another victory
A to the K
Audio X
Bitter
Born to get busy
Break 'em off some
Break it up
Busted in the hood
Can I live
Can't get the bes of me
Case closed
Catastrophe
Certified bomb
Checkmate
Child of the West
Cisco kid
Clash of the titans
Cock the hammer
Crossfire
Cuban Necktie
Dr. Dedoverde
Dr. Greenthumb
Everybody must get stoned
Feature presentation
From the window of my room
Funk freakers
Hand on the glock
Hand on the pump
Here is something you can't understand
Highlife
High times
Hits from the bong
Hole in the head
How could I just kill a man
Illusions
Ilusiones
Insane in the brain
It ain't easy
I wanna get high
Killafornia
Killa Hill
Kronologik
Last laugh
Latin Lingo
Latin thugs
Let it rain
L.I.F.E.
Light another
Lightning strikes
Locotes
Looking through the eye of a pig
Lowrider
Lunatics in the grass
Make a move
Marijuano locos
Memories
Money
Muevete
Never know
No rest for the wicked
Once again
One last cigarette
Pigs
Psychodelic vision
Psycobetabuckdown
Puercos
Real estate
Red, Meth & B
Riot starter
Scooby Doo
Shoot 'em up
Southland killers
Spark another owl
Stoned is the way of the walk
Stoned riders
Street wars
Tequila
The funky Cypress Hill shit
The last assassin
The phuncky feel one
Till death comes
Tres Equis
Trouble
To no Ajaunta
What go around come around
What's your number?
What you want from me
When the shit goes down
Worldwide