Yeah, Cypress Hill three times, come on!
Yeah

Infiltration be our daily operation for chasin'
Cross the seven seas eased, clockin' much conversation
Penetration, you know we gets busy, no hesitation
Greenery, hand-picked, from my own plantation
Feels the heat, under the sombrero
To any amigo that's tryin to, stop the dineros
Chills with, senoritas, like charro
Get drunk off tequila lay low 'til tomorrow
Follow, my flow, get the cash and go
Call my homey B-Rizzy in Mexico City
Loose lips sink ships, faker faces got guilt
Didn't mean to call you late, I need a hideout 'til
Cool, homey, I'll bring some fuckin skunk
The homie smuggle me across lines in a trunk
Just like a bird I'm free, in a land
With no fuckin extradition treaty, I'm out, yeah

"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"With the crew from off the Hill"

B-really killin' the Phillie now can you feel me from the
Soul Assassin committee, the shitty niggas never thrill me
You silly bitches never respect, neglect money
You funny or broke, think it's a joke, your nose is runny
Got my main man, Mr. Rocho kickin' the vocals
From the Eastside, where it's loco sellin' the poco
From the two G's, breakin' the leaves of cheese, makin the bacon
You hear it sizzle got your hands ready for the takin
Evading the pigs, raiding my crib, I'm mad lib
And I wanna live and I'm givi'n the message droppin' the lesson
Flippin' shit, and I'm keepin' 'em guessin' they all stressin'
Hit the lullaby, no confession, we in session

"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"With the crew from off the Hill"

We's beez the three amigos, skates with nickel plates
Under the seat and we goes East Coast, West Coast, anybody killer!
Soul Assassins gets the cash and smash
Who spits the Glocks like uno and dos?
Makin your body disappear like a ghost
One time's tryin to gaffle me, harassin' me
Tryin to send me to the penitentiary

In the nighttime, niggas are creepin' you fuckin sleepin'
And the beat, just keeps on seepin' into the street
While you peakin' I'm meetin' and greetin' the people speakin'
And leadin' the motherfuckers who's seekin' to catch, ruckus
Meaning you suckers no-luckers overdub us, nut hug us
You love us, you can't stop, these mad audio hustlers

"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"
"Shit is real on the motherfuckin' Hill God"

Copyright: JELLYBEAN MUSIC GROUP, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Albert Johnson, Christopher Karrer, Erik Klaus Ebert, Frank Malave, Jamal Gerard Grinnage, Kejuan Waliek Muchita, Larry Muggerud, Louis M. Freeze, Mc Eiht, Nathaniel Wilson, Peter Leopold, Stefan Zauner