realities of life, hit me after I smoke Money satisfy half of my mood, then there's a part of me That's distant, quiet, the most dangerous side of me
pouch Skull an old nigga, knock his motherfuckin dentures out Push an old man out his wheelchair He's still, his quill there, he gets killed there If it's left up to me I'll bury
once again it's on I still got money buried in my backyard I'm bumpy like Johnson, they call me D-Don My shit's so dope when you smoke you nod And I
nigga, volume 2 We show niggas the meaning of ryde or die So all that bullshit you talking, go head nigga You don't gotta slap me five or give me a
really going on is that cash money How you make it, it doesn't matter to me Work at Mac Donald's or just slang them KI's Or you can be like me and go
mo bitches than Dr. Detroit it goes down Mr. Smoke-A-Lot turnin pounds into ashes black ski maskes niggaz be gettin the pumpkin head like Cashus Clay the Yay Area smoke
I'll bring it to 'em If you're sailin' catch my drift Lead me to the door, check my list Meet me at the floor, catch this fist Or meet me at the store
gat barrel Wettin' up your flyest apparel, a cane ray You forget me and I'll be back to refresh your fuckin' memory Remember me now, Cypress Hill soldier Up and down
blunt down Put the, put the, put the blunt down put the blunt down Put the pipe down, put your bong down, put the blunt down And listen up now Ya?ll
my fuckin' homies Me and my fuckin' homies Me & my homies though You know we kick it like everyday Me & my homies, kick it like everyday Me & my homies Constantly we mash Me
Word it's like all we got left Teardrops and closed caskets Throw it up fool, hey nigga Tell me how you feel homie Yeah It took a week to go down, you
(Huh? What?) My name is Slim Shady Ahem, excuse me Can I have the attention of the class For one second? Hi kids, do you like violence? (Yeah, yeah, yeah) Wanna see me
back around these niggas 'Cause they fronting 20 years of watching my mama's tears Got me heated, heavily weeded Smoking that bomb 'cause I need it These niggas don't want me balling, they want me bury
my closet your favorite style is some beaten birds You out where? We don't ever see you My niggas out here, they spot me like Chippy D. And I'm probably smoking
I don't play around 'Cause the clown is face down and uptown is his burial ground You want beef? Well, the more the merrier And I'm a bury that man'
that ain't around now Buried six feet deep beneath the ground now My loud sound pound down make the earth crush in and bow down There's faultlines in
rhyme A miniature version of me, told me he wanted to MC I told him, "Be careful who you be." He said, "I'ma just be me." I said, "Yeah, I see. But you