Prelude to a Come Up Lyrics by Cypress Hill

Prelude to a Come Up Lyrics

    [MC Eiht]
    Geeyeah, Soul Assassins two times, stick em!
    Geeyeah, Cypress Hill three times, come on!
    Geeyeah..

    Infiltration be our daily operation for chasin
    Cross the seven seas eased, clockin much conversation
    Penetration, you know we gets busy, no hesitation
    Greenery, hand-picked, from my own plantation
    Feels the heat, under the som-brero
    to any amigo that's tryin to, stop the dineros
    Chills with, senoritas, like charro
    Get drunk off tequila lay low til tomorrow
    Follow, my flow, get the cash and go
    Call my homey B-Rizzy in Mexico City
    Loose lips sink ships, faker faces got guilt
    Didn't mean to call you late, I need a hideout til..
    cool, homey, I'll bring some fuckin skunk
    The homey smuggle me across lines in a trunk
    Just like a bird I'm free, in a land
    with no fuckin extradition treaty, I'm out, geyeah

    "Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" (2X)
    "With the crew from off the Hill"

    [B-Real]
    B-Really killin the Phillie now can you feel me from the
    Soul Assassin committee, the shitty niggaz never thrill me
    You silly bitches never respect, neglect money
    You funny or broke, think it's a joke, your nose is runny
    Got my main man, Mr. Rocho kickin the vocals
    from the Eastside, where it's loco sellin the poco
    From the two G's, breakin the leaves of cheese, makin the bacon
    You hear it sizzle got your hands ready for the takin
    Evading the pigs, raiding my crib, I'm mad lib
    and I wanna live and I'm givin the message droppin the lesson
    Flippin shit, and I'm keepin em guessin they all stressin
    Hit the lullaby, no confession, we in session

    "Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" (4X)
    "With the crew from off the Hill"

    [MC Eiht]
    We's beez the three amigos, skates with nickel plates
    under the seat and we goes East Coast/West Coast, anybody killer!
    Soul Assassins gets the cash and smash *vroom*
    Who spits the Glocks like uno and dos?
    Makin your body dissapear like a ghost
    One time's tryin to gaffle me, harassin me
    tryin to send me to the penetentiary

    [B-Real]
    In the nighttime, niggaz are creepin you fuckin sleepin
    And the beat, just keeps on seepin into the street
    While you peakin I'm meetin and greetin the people speakin
    and leadin the motherfuckers who's seekin to catch, ruckus
    Meaning you suckers no-luckers overdub us, nut hug us
    You love us, you can't stop, these mad audio hustlers

    "Shit is real on the motherfuckin Hill God" (5X)

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