[Intro]
"Bitch-ass motherfucka! Peter Pie ass n***a! Stand on your own two feet, bitch! How the fuck you gon' bite somebody else's dick, n***a? Yours ain't long enough to put in your mouth, punk! What's up with that shit?"
(Background): "'Turn that shit up louder!'"
"Muggs, make it rough."

[Verse 1: B-Real]
So many fools swingin' from my sack
Let's talk about the one who had my back!
Down in the west coast, so lemme kick it
To the motherfucker who calls himself "wicked"
No rest, no peace, no sleep
Doughboy rolling down the hill 'cause it's so steep
Jackson... lemme figure out the name
Jack cause you be stealing other n***as' game! (Lying-ass motherfucker!)
But I'm the wrong n***a you wanna fuck with
On my dick so hard, now ya wanna suck it!
Go on the head, gobble up the nuts
Get your lips ready & tear this motherfucker up!
Talk about Eazy, correct yourself
Cube, better step back and check yourself!

[Interlude]
"Yeah, n***a! My homie thought he had a homie in you. He let you listen to our motherfuckin' cut, and you turned around and put some old "Friday" shit out. What kind of shit is that?"

[Verse 2: B-Real]
Hmmm... let's talk about this
First solo album on the east coast dick
The east coast n***as all showed ya love
Especially the one known as King Sun
He tried to warn us n***as about ya
But nobody would listen
Even began dissin'
Two albums later, you callin' my crew
All because you wanna be Cypress Cube (No way, motherfucker!)
Shoulda known you couldn't hang in the alley
Good boy went to school out in the valley
Fuck it, lemme make this understood
Speakin' on mama's little Boy N the Hood
No Vaseline
Just a rope and a chair and gasoline (burning your ass up!)
Lench Mob is a friend of mine
But you talk about them n***as from behind
"You know what a chazzer is, O'Shea?
A motherfucking pig that don't fly straight"
Where ya gonna run to? Where ya gonna hide?
Taadow! Look at who's waiting outside! (Cypress, motherfucker!)
[Interlude]
"I got a can of kick-ass wit' your motherfuckin' name on it, Cube. You wanna come collect it, or should I bring it to you? 'Cause all that bullshit you doin', ain't shit fly about that shit... motherfuckin' thing, and I ain't bullshittin'. You need to back the fuck off, and that's real. Kick rocks buster!"

[Verse 3: B-Real]
Natural Born Bullshitta
Lemme hit ya with a dose of reality when I get wit' ya
Your homie came knockin', he had to chain my suit
You put a pipe on your cover, even though you don't smoke Buddha
Let me take you down under on a plane
Where everybody was going insane
Took a look at the Real one: afro gone
The next morning, you didn't have yours on
How many ways will you bite my shit?
Would ya wet me or start throwing up a set?
Caution, when you enter the zone
Never used to bang 'til you heard the microphone (Studio gangsta!)
I got Cube melting in a Tray
Pulling up his card and fucking up his "good day"
Unoriginal rap veteran...
The n***a who say he don't steal from his friends ("I don't steal from my friends!")
Don't trust that n***a named O'Shea
Fuck him, and send him on his way!

[Outro]
Cypress muthafuckin' Hill, the hardest mothafuckin' posse there is out here, n***a. So how d'you figure you was gonna step to this? Yeah n***a, the big damn-wham-bam Cypress Hill, tibby-tibby-toe fool, all for your mothafuckin' dope! N***a, you can't hang with the Hill! What the fuck you was thinkin' about? You know you step to this, you gotta step correct, 'cause Cypress ain't havin' that shit. Yeah n***a, we crack and fuck you next, who gives a fuck, a mad fuck? So bring it on, if you wanna test it!