Bone Thugs n Harmony: Down for my thang

[Layzie] Creepin' up outta the woods, gotta give love to my hood Smoke, and I choke, and I creep on a come up Niggas be tryin run up, but I bust, and they drop to their death Now they done up. Gun up, hunt my blunt up Creepin' 'til sun up, feelin' slightly shady Call me lightweight crazy, number one nigga little Layzie Nigga don't wanna fight runnin' deadly thugsta soldiers, droppin' them thangs Bone done told ya. Testin' nuts, so a nigga gonna have to show ya Faded a nigga that stepped up. Let's slip in some shit See 'em alls just stood up then put a foot up that ass had to blast that click-click Sprayed the gauge, all cocked, and ready to spray down to the pave Puttin' them souls up off in them graves dwell in Hell, they'll all lay slayed Amazed, must I blaze. It's insane when I take that bud to the brain Toke, choke, holdin' me smoke until-a me strained, feelin' no pain Better be packin' your weapon, 'cause my shit is kept And I'm ready to let loose sawed-off hangin' danglin' up under the trench, fin to blow that chest But you shoulda wore a vest, fool, 'cause the Bone don't front Nigga check or get wrecked Got Flesh on the set, with his finger on a TEC Loc'd out with the khakis and high techs Respect them St. Clair thugs hustlin' drugs, gotta make that money, man Rap be the thang, and the fact remains that we owns that rap game Bang, bang, gotta get down for my thang Bone be me gang [Flesh] We runnin' with no hoes, and the bigger Bone that's known for gettin' his swerve on and kickin' it on the stage (Off in the rag), gettin' my serve on So, leave 'em alone. They come They need to be shown that Bone done chrome, blown Lay slugs up in to them domes, so go on You'd rather go run a ho check, if you wanna test nuts with Flesh I'm feelin' to lynch ya, mo murda You're runnin' up eye to eye with death Praise the Flesh, now nevertheless you're takin' a loss and this slug snuffed up, and dumpin' the body up off in a coffin Remember the vow said a preacher, me teach 'em (winnin'/greetin') 'em with me nine, runnin' with thugs And hustlas and murderin' 'em every time Bang, bang, gotta get down for my thang Bone be me gang [Bizzy] Remember the Ripsta, sinster creeper reapin' up that set with a street-sweeper Gotta take a breather from sippin' me liter Rippin' that flesh when I sneak with a meat cleaver When I'm in me smug, never the studio thugsta Buck 'em. Buck 'em. Motherfuck 'em Thug never done bluff and fuck them bustas So back up off me. No stack won't let me slip When a nigga start to step, the weapon, put 'em in the graveyard Bitch, better buy your vest, then test Rest, the Ripsta Quick to pick up the hollow points and put 'em up in your brains, nigga My little nigga, Mo! Hart, my bigger nigga, Sin, dash fast Get up with the block at last blast they ass, pass cash, then stash Me can killa for free for homies and family Tell 'em to see me, that realer nigga, the Ripsta, put 'em in rivers It don't stop. Drop P's to the SCT's and double glock. Pop. Pop Here's the slug from the twelve gauge thug You don't want fuck with, no buck with, Rip's breakin' 'em bustas Blood, me fillin' 'em ? me murder. I show no mercy Turn your back, clack back me gat, diggin' 'em in the dirt, see [Krayzie] Get ready to duck, bitch, or get fucked up They never could fuck with me sawed-off pump Bitch, if I'm flippin' or load my clip in, nigga, y'all all fucked Gotta make my money, slippin' me pump in my trench, and then click it Now, nigga, it's rippin', steady clippin', not missin', thuggin' with me click And now Leatherface takin' your life so ya best stay back Tossin' the rest in a coffin, 'cause niggas be runnin' up, talkin' trash Buck a guard while walkin' past. Bang, bang, gotta get down for my thangs And I claim and hang with Ts, niggas that make cheese for the green leaves Gotta give peace, 'cause they swang these. Come, nigga, meet my hood And fulla nothin' but thugs and hustlas: Sin never been no busta He'll stuff and buck-buck 'em and dump 'em, bitch Nigga, muthafuck 'em, Krayzie don't love 'em, put 'em to rest and run So the po-po don't catch up--nigga can't be arrested One M-11 me sendin' niggas to hell, and you're feelin' 187 Eleven dwellin' better from the cell, and nigga that pick up Mossberg The quicker you to the curb. Put one to the temple, pump, to Mr. Policeman That's all you heard Bang, bang, gotta get down for my thang Bone be me gang Bang, bang, bang, bang