Throw Your Hands In The Air (remix) Lyrics

Throw Your Hands In The Air (remix) lyrics

Intro: Sen Dog

 

 Yeah

 Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins

 Cypress Hill joint.

 Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...

 ...so get it on kid!

 

 Verse One: Erick Sermon

 

 Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte

 Quicker done than O.J., hey

 I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master

 Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya

 Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?

 And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill

 Huh, I go on with my bad self

 I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker

 Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes

 I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes

 Never walk through the crowd sluggish

 I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish

 The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON

 I gets real determined

 And one for the trouble, and two for the bass

 I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace

 And if you don't know, y'all better recognize

 I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed

 

 Verse Two: B-Real

 

 Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits

 Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate

 Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill

 With chips and clips and tons of blue steel

 So who wants to be the first nigga to die?

 Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini

 You get thrown sent home in a coffin

 Punk stuff don't make it back, very often

 I got Erick to take care of the Sermon

 Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin

 Bustin open the doors to the temple

 Takin you to the dark side of your mental

 

 Chorus: B-Real

 

 Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys

 Throw your hands in the air

 Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys

 Throw your hands in the air

 

 Chorus

 

 Verse Three: Redman

 

 I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy

 finger up on the pen, be like "He the bomb, dicky!"

 These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me

 So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*

 Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch

 Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis

 is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit

 Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC

 *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest

 individual, to put criminal in diapers

 With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch

 You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis

 in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!

 With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge

 Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder

 You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of

 

 Chorus

 

 Verse Four: MC Eiht

 

 Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang

 The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang

 Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip

 Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip

 Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me

 Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me

 Keep your hands on your hood, you get got

 The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock

 You wish you could hang, like I hang

 Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing

 G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you

 Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you

 Ain't no poppin, no stoppin

 Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block

 Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this

 I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress

 

 Chorus

 

 Chorus

 

 Outro: Sen Dog

 

 Aight, for everybody

 All our peeps out on the corners

 All the alleyways

 For all our decesed

 Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets

 Nineteen ninety-five

 Soul Assassins in your mind