Bizzy Bone

Bizzy Bone - Better Run, Better Hide lyrics

rate me

(Yeah!) Yeah, Bizzy the Kid, the midwest cowboy

Galloping to a hood near you

Imagine me being signed to B2K (What!)

What you fuckin' think you could pay me in monopoly money

Man I will smack one of you bitches in the head

With a baseball bat, but I ain't fuckin' around

You run, and you hide..

Better hide, better hide

And you run, and you and hide..

Better hide, hide..

You run, and you hide..

Better hide, better hide

And you run, and you and hide..

Better hide, hide..

Son of a bitch, mothafucka, they never threw a grenade

I'd never sell out to B2K

Gotta love the way the industry be holdin' me back

I'm the rebellious leader of the army brigade

Ain't a nigga that could bite my style, because it always change

You hold me down, I'm still gon' reign

Got popped in the back of the dome

Went home, came back, put a bullet in one of his fuckin' brains

Murdered my little brother and how much do you think I payed

To chop up his body to dead remains, God kidnapped you

Threw the tape like Kane, jump outta the window

You know I'm gettin' away

They murdered my general

Now it's time to take this shit to another level

The Babylonian's against the Rebel's

It was seven of us comin' with the Bone Thugs, up against the raws

Come out corners doin' the devils, put the pedal to the metal

With me and my seven animals

Right around the corner, reload, and holdin' the handle

Got a .357 that everybody call Cannibal, Russian Roulette

Who's next, ready to gamble, I'm a ramblin' man

I keep guns on a mantle and a candle for my little brother

Capo Confuscious, you know what it is, it's how we do it

Throw a brick in the building, scandal mothafucka it's Ruthless

I never tolerated a Judist, The Passion of Christ

Give me the money, you'll never fuck me twice

Boy shut for the apostles, givin' the Gospel was the wings

Spread 'em open, takin' flight, nigga shot at

Bizzy the Kid's ready for combat, bring it on

Napalm, brung back, runnin' with machine guns

And an all around drum, look similar, sinister

Ripsta with the napalm

You run, and you hide..

Better hide, better hide

And you run, and you and hide..

Better hide, hide..

You run, and you hide..

Better hide, better hide

And you run, and you and hide..

Better hide, hide..

I couldn't fuck in the kitchen, watch the FED's kickin'

I carry niggaz away and then they start snitchin'

Bitchefied, they got me mystefied, I'm fuckin' money on

Here to say they get to stickin' for the bitches

My niggaz in the pen turned rats into women

And gave 'em pony tails, make 'em wear ribbons

Through the visiting room, he's kissing his kids

And 'bout to do my mothafuckin' dishes

In the crib come on, you wanna feel it, I'm the realest

High off spinach, before, I'm getttin' sentenced

But, hey, what about the apprentice, I'll never tell

I already told you what the 7th do to the snitches

Split personality, sorta like Fight Club, never get rest

I got to smoke weed, the blood on my little brother, blood

What you really wanna do, I don't think you really want none

Roll down the window like what up cuz, fuck the cops

Fuck the fuzz, look in my eyes you could see the buzz

See the thug, hardships, mothafucka, that I just had to break

With the tongue and I'm horse like hung, ask my baby mom

You rap like dung

Can anybody tell me where you got this shit from

Cause I'm the mothafucka with the gun and the dum dums

And I smack 'em up, nigga suckin' pump pump

Chris Stokes, better get 'em 'fore I get one

And put your money where your mouth is, I'll be ready for war

Get kicked with the hot ones, and it's one last thing

'Fore I knock you out

It ain't nothin' like money in a ZipLock bag

And you could get smacked up, (plus!) hey everybody

B2K sucks, y'all better watch your mouth...Boy

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