It Ain’t Nothin’

Lyrics

[Spoken Intro] In 1991, an artist in Compton picked up Cypress Hill's debut album What he heard blew him away A futuristic funk mixed with a diehard dedication To a certain [?] This is the story of Cypress Hill [Verse 1: B-Real] I used to carry a Glock on the waist line Man, I don't waste time I'm strong on the bass line, you never will taste mine See me on the screen, fuckers beggin' for face time Get your own tape but don't bother to chase mine I got a block, man, we havin' a great time You couldn't fill the shoes anytime that I laced mine Light up the stage for the homies we make shine Sick the dogs on you, get mauled by the K-9 Homies on the yard never walk in the main line And lames find they can never be in the game I'm lettin' off rounds, hittin' blunts at the same time Take a cruise, homie, you a neon to save time Bitches like you always spittin' the same rhymes We put you all to shame You never went through the same grind Put you in the bind, from the minute you came by So stay in your lane and get wet by the rain [Chorus] You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run wit the dogs? Get your cash up Get it You gotta get your straps up Get it You gotta get your stash up Get it You gotta get amped up You wanna run wit the dogs? Get your cash up [Verse 2: Sen Dog] I'm right here on the block When it's time to ride out, you know what I'm all about Hundred Harley bikes on site when it goes down Me and my homies, we always holdin' the fort down Come up in our town and you pissin' a fourth now Got 4 ounces and 3 bottles of Jack 2 fifth's in the back and everyone I'm with's strapped Whatever happened to chin checkin' and wreckin' fools Try disrespecting me, my Smith & Wesson is endin' you And I ain't changed since back in the day Get your shit split quick if you get in my face You wanna run with the Dog? Better stay in your place 'Cause your little ass name don't hold no weight And your little ass safe couldn't hold my cake Get your access denied down the road I take And let me tell you one more thing before I skate If you a fake or a snake, I'ma send you to your grave [Chorus] You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run wit the dogs? Get your cash up Get it You gotta get your straps up Get it You gotta get your stash up Get it You gotta get amped up You wanna run wit the dogs? Get your cash up [Post-Chorus] [DJ Rippin' with B-Real finish] [Verse 3: Sen Dog] I'm a First Staff OG from outta the gutter With a fucked up demeanor for you punk mothafuckas Get played like some dicks who try to start ruckas I'm a real gun busta so don't ever try to rush us Can't nobody touch us that don't leave on crutches Or worse, get a ride in a Hearse with their bodies covered It's gon' be a cold summer, soon as the Hill drops All bullshit will stop [Verse 4: B-Real] A couple sons in the street And we don't care what you bustas think It might sink in sometime, but I won't blink We go against everything, smoke all the green Got them low arm, swing, it ain't nothing to me We put it down anywhere like it's something to see So all you bitches goin' rogue with your haters degree And when you wanna get loud, son, I'm ready to work Punks act up and you bound to get hurt [Chorus] You wanna step up, get your ass touched You wanna rap, son, get your ass buff Try to test us, you's gonna get smashed up You wanna run wit the dogs? Get your cash up Get it You gotta get your straps up Get it You gotta get your stash up Get it You gotta get amped up You wanna run wit the dogs? Get your cash up