Lyrics
Ladies and gentlemen
We would like to present to you
A group that is simply just marvelous, just marvelous
Ladies and gentlemen, Cypress, Hill
16 men on a dead man's list
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
16 men till there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
So many fucking emcees claim supremacy
On whose got hip-hop locked, it could never be
One who is solo, running the whole game
That's bullshit, like cops never sniffed cocaine
But I'm taking on all comers, dropping bombers
Reducing numbers, making it hot like the summer
This, one emcee he couldn't deal with the skill
Like Jack did Jill, I rolled his ass down the Hill
Beaten broken and coughing and choking on the rhyme
Like a hooker, sucking a dick for the first time
His, rhyme was hollow with no flow to follow
Bust a nut, all in your mouth, and made him swallow
I take 16 emcees, lock 'em in a room
Make 'em feel the contact, eating the mushrooms
Playing with your mind, making you feel the Force
Had to cancel out, two punk niggas up in The Source
Tried to get XXL, they still fell
Bitches go tell your troubles to Montel
16 men now there's 13 left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
16 men now there's 13 left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
I'm tripping on the people controlling the airwaves
Got it going on, you know it all, but God save
Your ass for clashing with the Soul Assassin
That's like Mike fucking with Poppa Joe Jackson
Ass-whoop all over the place, you can't hide behind
The physical, better run to the spiritual
Ass-whoop critical, or you can get it
From the lyrical, bitch-made niggas are invisible
Dysfunctional, hypocritical, smile in your face
The fucking cynical shit brains
As I sit back and say, tally-ho!
One of these days your punk ass gonna go
Guess you had a key to figure the fucking flow
But you're locked out, and the bomb's about to blow