Bizzy:

. . . when the thugs cry

This is what it sounds like [this is what it sounds like, this is what

it sounds like . . .] . . .

. . . when the thugs cry [when the thugs cry, when the thugs cry].



Bizzy:

Nigga, we represent the planet. Get schizophrenic and panic. Maybe

the past would understand if they get off they ass and mash.

How do you manage? Paranoid, don't even trust my boys. Watch

for them plots and deploys, envoys, scopin

like a dope fiend, when I'm smoked in the alleys with these ghetto

guns and erased my funds Watts niggas in Cali take

bullets to the brains, still rowdy. Jesus really never died--you

crucified mutual suicide. Who am I? Loco with vocals, goin'

coast to coast. Heaven'll move me, right, for sure. Deception whether

my brethren, but sunny days when I parlay. Get killed

when I get to steppin'. Remember the weapon (come) and the doctor said

I need time to myself where ocean those frivilous

thoughts, thug for the Bone, up puttin' this independent stardom. Seven

relentless evil intentions, nobody knows 'em, Im even a henchman, warrior,

poet, never to mention i love my lady rebel?

And we can get the stroke on. And we can get

the stroke on. And we can get the stroke on. And we can get this

stroke on, when the thugs cry.



This is what it sounds like (this is what it sounds like,)

. . when the thugs cry

[when the thugs cry, when the thugs cry].

[Are you ready, ready?]



Bizzy:

We keepin' the lights on at Ruthless and I ain't fuckin' the boss,

lookin' at me sexy. Take your clothes off, and my dick'll go

soft. Never mix business with your sickness. Enemy see me flippin'

in the picnic with your little divide and conquer, but my-acapo