[Bizzy]Yeah, this for all you non-believersEspecially out in the C-OMan, fuck y\'all niggasWoo! Yeah, I\'m tellin ya when I dieYou can see what\'s deep in my eye (my eye) (x2)[Maje$ty]\n7 Sign...\n\n[Bizzy]\nI put who got you, too, who shot you\nWho got you, glock you and stop you (stop you, stop you)\nLook who got you, too, who shot you\nWho got you, pop you and stop you (stop you, stop you)\n\nNigga, this Mo Thug and we can get fucked-up\nEven if I\'m under surveillance, I watch out\nWanna win, and fuck \'em up daily, throwin\' up 7\nWhat am I yellin\'? Murderer\nNigga, once you come you must pay like crazy if you\n(Muthafucka, don\'t play me) play me\nNigga, not today\nI see you but you can\'t see me\nI know with all of government and\nYes, this will get crazy and blow (bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb)\n\n[Maje$ty]\nGot your mind blown, vocal tones keep it sewn\nBlastin\' out your steroes or your headphones\nThe roots exploited clones; therefore\nIt\'s my job to describe the loudness, the habitat of rap survival kit\nArtistic skin abrasion, so when \'em fadin\' my worldly reflections\nIt\'s magnified to new levels of elevation\n\n[Bizzy]\nSeven sign, seven, seven sign\nSeven, seventh sign seal\nYeah, now y\'all know, yeah\nYeah, I\'m tellin ya when I die\nyou can see what\'s deep in my eye (my eyes, my eyes)\n\n[Bizzy]\nI put who got you, too, who shot you\nWho got you, glock you and stop you (stop you, stop you)\nLook who got you, too, who shot you\nWho got you, pop you and stop you (stop you, stop you)\n\nThe Rip here to run in the street\nAnd flippin\' on police, yeah they know me\nI\'m not lonely, only, show me when the smoke clears\nAnd at least I had my homie and a nigga, K, homie\nAll bitches, look intoit as you want the real killa?\nWell, pull out your pistol, bitch, and shoot it, shoot it\nAnd you knew it, do it, when, when you looked in my eyes\nI\'m ready to die\nAnd I hope my mama really loves me\n\'Cause daddy\'s bye-bye\nInner pride with the Ripsta\nLet \'em hit ya with the scripture\nPicture me lockedout and smoked out with a half of fifth of\n\n[Maje$ty]\nThree sixty-five out of all the round trees\nThey\'ll be Japanese, Maje$ty\'s corruptin\' record companies\nNigga, jump for cheese, catch sub-zero freeze\nAnd crack once the atmosphere brings the temperature back\nSacks only in dress pants\nhave you ever danced with the devil in pale moonlight?\nI have, Hollywood niggas make me laugh\nSell a dream to \'em\nCash, no royality, grab they royal keys and dash\nMy overhead projects how ends meet to foul or ejected\nLyrics was selected beyond my control, last door on the totem pole\nPockets swoll from tape residue, last interview and went in daytime\nIt\'s made a promise to let down smooth criminals gently in my business\nGrab your earlobe and billion, this is big business, buy tapes\nDon\'t lend, niggas mad while I scrap change for phillies, why grill me?\nGot bigger balls to chasewaterfalls with ChiliExplore on four wheels or foot, I bring it to that ass over the hookSo when you slip, gots it. I ride up on itI had to maintain my mental frame, and now I\'m BonelessWord sound \'til I\'m foamin\'Cybergenics wanted my genes for clonin\'Disownin\' heads like Romans fight rebel TrojansMore than civil suits make my longevity boost, articlesAnd promotions make me more potentDeadly to the mind, \'causin\' somethin\' to be blindRe-define lines entertwined with all mankindWould that rain outshine divine Maje$ty, shameThe boogie down punks is where the hearts still remain(Bizzy talking)\nI\'m a let a nigga know\nYou know what I\'m sayin\', just right off the bat\nI gives a fuck about no nigga\nDon\'t be no (corvie) - ass nigga\nI\'m tryin\' to tell niggas that off the rip\nOff the rippa, baby (I must me losin\' my mind)\n\nWhere\'s the mob?\nFind your specialty, let\'s give this nigga a job\nIs you ready for jail?\nYes and no, but somebody\'s gonna try to rob\nWe can spar, but you gon\' drop (drop)\nI\'m a bomb, ready for war, will I p-pop pop\nBetter look out for miles, been doomed since I womb\nWill he put me in my tomb?\nI\'ve been thuggin\' so assume when I enter your room, boom\nStomped through Compton\nAnd cities y\'all ain\'t never heard of and listen\nI bet there\'s thousand people screamin\' out\n\"Murder, murderin\' ya\"\nHypnotized, took off my shirt, I got a life\nI\'m tatted so when I die you can see what\'s deep my eyes\nTrues ride but trues die, my nigga, don\'t cry\nI shedded my lasttear when I found out love was a lie\nSo I try, but it ain\'t nothin\' for my mental\nSo piss off my pencil, and I blast, dash in a rental\nOne nigga got out and off he in a trap with sawed-off\nThey took a chance and lost\nlet\'s spray A-K and make gangsta gone\nDon\'t finish the wars when they ain\'t over\nIlove you thugs, but all them skeletons got so close\nAnd they got so ? if it ain\'t ?\nThis family that don\'t give a fuck who you are\nIt ain\'t nothin\' like some trouble\nHow close? How far (how far, how far)? art, bizzy, bone, flesh, harmony, krayzie, layzie, mo, of, sign, thugs, war, wish