[Krayzie Bone]
Don't ^!$$%s don't wanna start %#@!,

Buck, buck to the bang,
Sendin' bullets to the brain, ^!$$%, yeah
A ^!$$% that always at my city with me,

now, who was that ^!$$% they put in the plastic?
^!$$% that thought he could bang.
That ^!$$%'s stuck.

That ^!$$%'s blasted.
They got my man from the Land.
Never ran, I step with deadly men.

If ya come a little bit closer,
I can turn you into sand.
Now follow me, now roll, stroll down to Cleveland.

We thuggin', we theivin', we put it in deep,
and the blood is seepin'.
Got ^!$$%s in alleys,

$#&@ ^!$$%s in badges.
We say bang.
Eighty-eight through the ten-five (and Clair)

St. Clair ain't %#@! to $#&@ with.
Pumpin', Krayzie be bumpin', dumpin' the bloody body.
Me never knew one that could flow with the tongue.

We comin' to shoot up your posse.
My ^!$$%s-they comin' up out the woods,
to get the goods.

Krayzie be thug, and (want to) die-that's from comin' up in my hood.
We killas. Get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun,
bust one, they done.

Cleveland is where we from.
Hearts-thugs have none.


[Chorus: (2x)]

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off,

there's really no place to run.
^!$$%s get vicious with my click,
'cause even the (*##$es carry guns.


[Bizzy Bone]
Soon as I hit the scene, ??

feelin' for a pistol,
but I didn't have no gun.
Come with original thugsta %#@!.

I be flippin' it with me tongue.
^!$$%, Cleveland is the city where we come from,
and I show them hoes up outta the Clair that thugs don't run from none.

Follow rip one, now, on and on,
them definitely got me back.
And I'm throwin' up St. Clair thugsta ^!$$%s,

with or without my gat.
Forever be ready to pull out me murder tools East 99 style, fools.
Me put it in mind on murderin' you,

followin' whenever me murderous trues.
^!$$%s that claim to bang bang,
when it comes to slang thangs, they do.

They know they cannot buck me,
one of 'em sure to slug me,
but they hope the thug I be, Bizzy.

Better let 'em him be or they'll see.
^!$$%, hangin', swangin', never to miss. The Biz is me.


[Chorus (2x)]

[Layzie]

Livin' in the Land of the Heartless,
with a sawed-off pump, shootin' craps.
Hand on my strap, roll thick, 'cause they jack.

Runnin' up on the Bone, you needin' to be pap pap.
Soldier thugs be pumpin' them slugs,
defendin' they drugs.

When they roll up,
^!$$%s be creepin' up slow,
heavy packed with they gats,

and try to pull a hold up,
but ^!$$%, now hold on.
Wanna test the Bone?
The gauge is shown.
Any is mind blown,

lookin' down the barrel of this mausberg chrome to the dome.
Bone, clack back me gauge in a rage,
copper take these here rocks.
Double glock,
my pistols be pumpin' and buckin' out shots whenever

the trouble knocks.
Steadily hittin', me clean up,
get lit up for ready your soul to burn,
and I blow your %#@! up, get 'em on the get up,
cause ^!$$%s must learn.

Yearnin' to earn cheese.
Ready to die, so ^!$$%s can't take these.
Wantin' to clock G's, want to move keys,
not takin' a loss on my green leaves, please.
East nine nine, crime finds mine,

strayin' on this road to hell,
and prison walls, testin' balls,
for the cause, gotta get that sale,
and bailin', kickin' up mud, rollin',
I get with my thugs.
Rippin' apart %#@!, so ^!$$%, don't start %#@!,

cause we kill in the Land of the Heartless, Die.

[Chorus (4x)]