<Cypress Hill> page <Elephants on Acid> album page |
Locos (feat. Sick Jacken)(Orale loco, ponte las pilas wey e?Aquí se va a hacer el jale ahorita de volada Estos vatos tienen un chingo de feria Listo? Ponte la máscara, vámonos...) Five, and four, and three, and two, and one And we smash through the door with the quickness up Looking for the crop that I heard you pussies talk about Don't try nothin', if you lead me to the crop, anda despacio Don't say a word, it'd be over, suicide of the smoked out Where the cash stashed in the room? Five, and four and three, and two, and one That's how many seconds left before your ass is done (click-clack) Now you heard the sound, tell me somethin' new This homie here won't hesitate to put a hole in you Death threat, get your ass up, that's a good boy Would you rather put the cameras out, or we playin' coy? Don't even think about the strap up in your backpack Cooperative, when I leave you're still alive, in fact I only want your cash crop, not your life jack (You can get another crop), but not your life back So settle down, I don't wanna let the metal spray Lead the way, give it up and live another day Trees and sacks, backpack full of cash, out the door Hit the ride, hear my tires screechin' in the back [Sick Jacken:] Yeah Amonos, dámelo, caite con ese paquetón Yo no quiro usar el cuete no Es muy baqueton El bote no me asusta a mi Es como vacación Pero yo te asusto a ti Miados en el pantalón 5, 4, 3 y 2 y 1 Yo quiero la hierba y el nudo Es lo que le queda a este cuetazo de budo Pierde puro verde o pierdes el culo Tu di (Ahí esta la otra que te decía loco Estos vatos tienen más feria Aqui vamos a chingar, listo? Vámonos pues...) Weed and dough, and hoes, and hit and run As we graspin' for more with our pockets full Layin' down the plot, blueprints for another pull Smokin' up the spot while I quit, we're invincible Jack your spot and we take your shit and run Got my eye on the hummus just around the way Searchin' for the dogs, no guards, so it's time to play Judgin' by the odds we can hit it and lets hondalē Somos locos pocos, here we come Grippin' outta sight Takin' it to other heights Homie, go around the back Go in when I kill the lights Sack up everything Don't mean nothin' with a fuckin' knife Five and four, and three, and two, and one Now we in the buildin', take it all until it's done Fifty pounds, smell it all around, yeah we comin' up Easy pickin', don't be tellin' hoes, live fucked up [Sick Jacken:] Yeah Amonos, dámelo, caite con ese paquetón Yo no quiro usar el cuete no Es muy baqueton El bote no me asusta a mi Es como vacación Pero yo te asusto a ti Miados en el pantalón 5, 4, 3 y 2 y 1 Yo quiero la hierba y el nudo Es lo que le queda a este cuetazo de budo Pierde puro verde o pierdes el culo Tu di |