Bone Thugs-N-Harmony Follow

Layzie

Creepin' up outta the woods, gotta give love to my hood. Smoke, and I choke, and I creep on ah 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 #1 nigga little Layzie. Nigga don't wanna faint, runnin' deadly thugsta soldiers, droppin' them thangs. Bone done told you. Testin' nuts, so a nigga gonna have to show you. Faded a nigga that stepped up, then slipped in some shit. Seen 'em all's just stood up then put a foot up that ass, had to blast that clique-clique. Sprayed the gauge, all cocked, and ready to spray down to the pave'. Puttin' them souls up off up in a grave, dwell in hell, they'll all lay slain. Amazed, must I blaze. It's insane when I take that bud to the brain. Toke, choke, hold in 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,

finna blow that chest through, you should've 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 house that rap game.

Bang-bang, gotta get down foe my thang. (Bone be me gang.) [*2]

Flesh

Well what do ya know hoes, and the bigger Bone that's known for gettin' his swerve on. And kickin' it on the stage. Off in a raid 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 better go run a ho check, if you wanna test nuts with Flesh, I'm fin' to lynch ya, mo murda! You're runnin' up eye to eye with death. Face to face, 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, greetin' 'em with me nine. Runnin' with thugs and hustlas and murderin' 'em every time.

Layzie

Bang-bang, gotta get down foe my thang. (Bone be me gang.) [*4]

Bizzy

Remember the Ripsta, sinster creeper, rippin' 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 smugsta, never the studio thugsta. Buck 'em! Buck 'em! Muthafuck '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, then wet 'em, 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 'em 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 S-C-T's and double glock. Pop, pop! Here's the slug from the twelve-gauge thug. You don't want fuck with, nor buck with, Rip's breakin' on bustas. Blood, me feelin' 'em like it hurts. 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 me trench, and then click it. Now, nigga this rippin', steady clippin', not missin', thuggin' with me clique. And now Leathaface takin' your life so you 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 foe my thang, and I claim and hang with thieves. Niggas that make cheese for the green leaves. Gotta give P's, 'cause they swang these. Come nigga, meet my hood and found 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 felon, 187. Eleven dwellin' better from the cell, and nigga that pick up M

ossberg, the quicker you get to the curb. Put one to the temple. Pump to Mr. Policeman, that's all you heard.

Layzie

Bang-bang, gotta get down foe my thang. (Bone be me gang.) [*4]

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang…

Gotta get down foe my thang, gotta get down foe my thang [*13]

Bone—always will