| 作曲 : Canibus/G. Williams/M. Lewis/R. Brown/W.L. Reed | |
| f/ Killah Priest, Kurupt, Ras Kass | |
| [Ras Kass] | |
| The beginning of the end niggas! | |
| [Canibus] | |
| Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega | |
| The Canibus'll make your eyes redder | |
| FUCK ya'll niggas talkin bout cheddar | |
| [Ras Kass] | |
| Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen | |
| [Canibus] | |
| Four swordsmen (From the land of the lost) | |
| Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus | |
| Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut | |
| MOTHAFUCKER!!! | |
| [Both] Wavin the four-four! | |
| [Kurupt] | |
| I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece | |
| Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street | |
| Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats | |
| I toss fire at niggas | |
| Mothafuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks | |
| All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga | |
| I'll throw some fucked up kicks on | |
| Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up | |
| Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up | |
| Cuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt | |
| See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality | |
| A Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be | |
| See I'm tired of this Barkley shit | |
| Niggas talkin shit, I wanna see the streets dark again | |
| Let the heaters spark again | |
| Police callin all cars off then | |
| Powerful as a mothafuckin Vulcan | |
| My specialty is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically | |
| Dogg Pound pedigree | |
| Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit | |
| Dirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit | |
| Missle click, assassin Sicilian | |
| Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children | |
| For vengance in the name of the Horsemen | |
| Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman | |
| And we abide by the code of the streets | |
| The makings of a real MC nigga | |
| (C...C...C...C) yeah bitch! | |
| [Canibus] | |
| So just abide by what you ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Just abide by what you ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| [Killah Priest] | |
| Mothafucker, it's started, four apocalypic prophets | |
| Appearin outta floatin objects | |
| Wearin mid-western garments | |
| Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets | |
| Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded | |
| Swear by our fore fathers | |
| Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded | |
| Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness | |
| Bring you out the other side as a carcus | |
| I'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess | |
| To me, ya'll all garbage | |
| I see all of ya'll as movin targets | |
| And my lyrics be the atomic rocket | |
| Cosmic vomic spittin, hittin at ya Vietnam vets | |
| Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest | |
| Castin meteor storms and comets | |
| Now who wanna make the next rise comet | |
| And be the first one left unconcious | |
| After I squeeze your head like the Charmin | |
| Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat | |
| And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts | |
| Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt | |
| Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue | |
| We was lyrically sent to ya'll | |
| Like deminigod to put a end to ya'll | |
| Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of ya'll | |
| Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin | |
| Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin | |
| [Ras Kass] | |
| Let's serve it out like the breeze | |
| Now watch me do one-armed handstands | |
| And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas | |
| Streets is Lebonese | |
| Be rockin Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines | |
| Most of these MC's can't even rap | |
| Just modeling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges | |
| I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out | |
| You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck | |
| Me? I'm ain't even in my prime | |
| When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines | |
| Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind | |
| But I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time | |
| That's a three-hour difference | |
| So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine | |
| In seven days, she'd still be a dime | |
| Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins | |
| Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains | |
| Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo | |
| And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow | |
| So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden | |
| Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin | |
| Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray | |
| (*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*) | |
| [Canibus] | |
| Yo yo yo yo | |
| I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six meghertz | |
| Make lightning flash across the sky everytime I curse | |
| Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes | |
| Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes | |
| To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens | |
| Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is | |
| If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix | |
| Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish | |
| Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks | |
| Beat em wit two whips wit pieces of broken glass glued to it | |
| Your whole crew gets bayed and nuetered | |
| As i aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets | |
| Your armored cars and your kevlar vests is useless | |
| I'ma fuck all of you pussies like group sex | |
| You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment | |
| For bitin off another niggas' shit you bitch | |
| You got caught, now you on the other side of the law | |
| Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court | |
| To get some of your sentence knocked off, na nigga you wildin | |
| Cuz you still be in Riker's Island gettin forced to toss salads | |
| You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that | |
| I'ma tape it on a digital video DAT and send a copy to Miramax | |
| Leave you exposed, turn on the fiction and fact so everybody you know | |
| You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga | |
| That got fucked in the ass by a father figure | |
| (Battle who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you | |
| Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo | |
| Delivering mind blowin rhymes and poems | |
| Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings | |
| When I get bitten, I bite back | |
| Quicker than Tyson attacks, I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back | |
| So, take caution | |
| The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then | |
| Gallop northward | |
| MC's take caution | |
| The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then | |
| Gallop northward mothafuckers | |
| Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Just abide by what your ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA! | |
| [All] | |
| Wavin the four-four! All you heard was 'Priest, don't hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the four-four! All you heard was 'Bis, don't hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the four-four! All you heard was 'Ras, don't hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore | |
| [Kurupt] | |
| Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts | |
| Wit my mothafuckin arms crossed | |
| I transform from a Dogg to a Horse | |
| Took over the whole race course | |
| Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle? | |
| *Fading* | |
| Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missle | |
| Let it whistle, they fall fuckin 'round wit the Dogg | |
| I'm a hog |
| zuo qu : Canibus G. Williams M. Lewis R. Brown W. L. Reed | |
| f Killah Priest, Kurupt, Ras Kass | |
| Ras Kass | |
| The beginning of the end niggas! | |
| Canibus | |
| Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega | |
| The Canibus' ll make your eyes redder | |
| FUCK ya' ll niggas talkin bout cheddar | |
| Ras Kass | |
| Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen | |
| Canibus | |
| Four swordsmen From the land of the lost | |
| Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Canibus | |
| Throw your 4' s up or get your vocal cords cut | |
| MOTHAFUCKER!!! | |
| Both Wavin the fourfour! | |
| Kurupt | |
| I' m headless nigga, but I packs a big piece | |
| Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street | |
| Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats | |
| I toss fire at niggas | |
| Mothafuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks | |
| All thirtynine of your bitches, prettyass bitch nigga | |
| I' ll throw some fucked up kicks on | |
| Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up | |
| Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up | |
| Cuz we don' t give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt | |
| See I' m off the wall nigga, Horsementality | |
| A Horseman nigga and that' s all I' ll be | |
| See I' m tired of this Barkley shit | |
| Niggas talkin shit, I wanna see the streets dark again | |
| Let the heaters spark again | |
| Police callin all cars off then | |
| Powerful as a mothafuckin Vulcan | |
| My specialty is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically | |
| Dogg Pound pedigree | |
| Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit | |
| Dirty shit, holocaust thirtythirty shit | |
| Missle click, assassin Sicilian | |
| Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children | |
| For vengance in the name of the Horsemen | |
| Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman | |
| And we abide by the code of the streets | |
| The makings of a real MC nigga | |
| C... C... C... C yeah bitch! | |
| Canibus | |
| So just abide by what you ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Just abide by what you ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Killah Priest | |
| Mothafucker, it' s started, four apocalypic prophets | |
| Appearin outta floatin objects | |
| Wearin midwestern garments | |
| Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets | |
| Slappin all you scaryass rap artists half retarded | |
| Swear by our fore fathers | |
| Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded | |
| Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness | |
| Bring you out the other side as a carcus | |
| I' m heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess | |
| To me, ya' ll all garbage | |
| I see all of ya' ll as movin targets | |
| And my lyrics be the atomic rocket | |
| Cosmic vomic spittin, hittin at ya Vietnam vets | |
| Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest | |
| Castin meteor storms and comets | |
| Now who wanna make the next rise comet | |
| And be the first one left unconcious | |
| After I squeeze your head like the Charmin | |
| Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat | |
| And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts | |
| Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt | |
| Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue | |
| We was lyrically sent to ya' ll | |
| Like deminigod to put a end to ya' ll | |
| Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of ya' ll | |
| Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin | |
| Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin | |
| Ras Kass | |
| Let' s serve it out like the breeze | |
| Now watch me do onearmed handstands | |
| And hang these NUT' s over seven continents and seven seas | |
| Streets is Lebonese | |
| Be rockin Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines | |
| Most of these MC' s can' t even rap | |
| Just modeling, go gold and get bigheaded like they swallowin colleges | |
| I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out | |
| You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck | |
| Me? I' m ain' t even in my prime | |
| When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines | |
| Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind | |
| But I rep westside, so I keep L. A. time | |
| That' s a threehour difference | |
| So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine | |
| In seven days, she' d still be a dime | |
| Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins | |
| Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains | |
| Kiddo, I be doin my thugthizzo for shizzo | |
| And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow | |
| So what' s happening, from P. I. to ' 99 Madden | |
| Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin | |
| Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray | |
| Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas | |
| Canibus | |
| Yo yo yo yo | |
| I kick a verse at sixhundred and sixtysix meghertz | |
| Make lightning flash across the sky everytime I curse | |
| Sixhundred and sixtysix flashes | |
| Give out sixhundred and sixtysix lashes | |
| To the backs of sixhundred and sixtysix Master of Ceremony hasbeens | |
| Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is | |
| If he' s a Catholic I nail him to a crucifix | |
| Then I beat him till he' s blackishblueish | |
| Then perform acupuncture wit sixhundred and sixtysix toothpicks | |
| Beat em wit two whips wit pieces of broken glass glued to it | |
| Your whole crew gets bayed and nuetered | |
| As i aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets | |
| Your armored cars and your kevlar vests is useless | |
| I' ma fuck all of you pussies like group sex | |
| You get sixhundred and sixtysix years imprisonment | |
| For bitin off another niggas' shit you bitch | |
| You got caught, now you on the other side of the law | |
| Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court | |
| To get some of your sentence knocked off, na nigga you wildin | |
| Cuz you still be in Riker' s Island gettin forced to toss salads | |
| You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that | |
| I' ma tape it on a digital video DAT and send a copy to Miramax | |
| Leave you exposed, turn on the fiction and fact so everybody you know | |
| You a suckerass nigga, fatherfuckin ass nigga | |
| That got fucked in the ass by a father figure | |
| Battle who? I' ll bruise and bash you, blast you | |
| Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo | |
| Delivering mind blowin rhymes and poems | |
| Controllin my tongue when I' m flowin like pilot controlled Boeings | |
| When I get bitten, I bite back | |
| Quicker than Tyson attacks, I don' t give a FUCK if I don' t get my license back | |
| So, take caution | |
| The Four Horsemen' ll chop your head off wit a sword then | |
| Gallop northward | |
| MC' s take caution | |
| The Four Horsemen' ll chop your head off wit a sword then | |
| Gallop northward mothafuckers | |
| Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Just abide by what your ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA! | |
| All | |
| Wavin the fourfour! All you heard was ' Priest, don' t hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the fourfour! All you heard was ' Bis, don' t hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the fourfour! All you heard was ' Ras, don' t hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the fourfour! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore | |
| Kurupt | |
| Yeah nigga, I' m headless without thoughts | |
| Wit my mothafuckin arms crossed | |
| I transform from a Dogg to a Horse | |
| Took over the whole race course | |
| Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle? | |
| Fading | |
| Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missle | |
| Let it whistle, they fall fuckin ' round wit the Dogg | |
| I' m a hog |
| zuò qǔ : Canibus G. Williams M. Lewis R. Brown W. L. Reed | |
| f Killah Priest, Kurupt, Ras Kass | |
| Ras Kass | |
| The beginning of the end niggas! | |
| Canibus | |
| Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega | |
| The Canibus' ll make your eyes redder | |
| FUCK ya' ll niggas talkin bout cheddar | |
| Ras Kass | |
| Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen | |
| Canibus | |
| Four swordsmen From the land of the lost | |
| Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Canibus | |
| Throw your 4' s up or get your vocal cords cut | |
| MOTHAFUCKER!!! | |
| Both Wavin the fourfour! | |
| Kurupt | |
| I' m headless nigga, but I packs a big piece | |
| Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street | |
| Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats | |
| I toss fire at niggas | |
| Mothafuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks | |
| All thirtynine of your bitches, prettyass bitch nigga | |
| I' ll throw some fucked up kicks on | |
| Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up | |
| Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up | |
| Cuz we don' t give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt | |
| See I' m off the wall nigga, Horsementality | |
| A Horseman nigga and that' s all I' ll be | |
| See I' m tired of this Barkley shit | |
| Niggas talkin shit, I wanna see the streets dark again | |
| Let the heaters spark again | |
| Police callin all cars off then | |
| Powerful as a mothafuckin Vulcan | |
| My specialty is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically | |
| Dogg Pound pedigree | |
| Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit | |
| Dirty shit, holocaust thirtythirty shit | |
| Missle click, assassin Sicilian | |
| Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children | |
| For vengance in the name of the Horsemen | |
| Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman | |
| And we abide by the code of the streets | |
| The makings of a real MC nigga | |
| C... C... C... C yeah bitch! | |
| Canibus | |
| So just abide by what you ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Just abide by what you ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Killah Priest | |
| Mothafucker, it' s started, four apocalypic prophets | |
| Appearin outta floatin objects | |
| Wearin midwestern garments | |
| Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets | |
| Slappin all you scaryass rap artists half retarded | |
| Swear by our fore fathers | |
| Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded | |
| Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness | |
| Bring you out the other side as a carcus | |
| I' m heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess | |
| To me, ya' ll all garbage | |
| I see all of ya' ll as movin targets | |
| And my lyrics be the atomic rocket | |
| Cosmic vomic spittin, hittin at ya Vietnam vets | |
| Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest | |
| Castin meteor storms and comets | |
| Now who wanna make the next rise comet | |
| And be the first one left unconcious | |
| After I squeeze your head like the Charmin | |
| Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat | |
| And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts | |
| Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt | |
| Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue | |
| We was lyrically sent to ya' ll | |
| Like deminigod to put a end to ya' ll | |
| Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of ya' ll | |
| Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin | |
| Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin | |
| Ras Kass | |
| Let' s serve it out like the breeze | |
| Now watch me do onearmed handstands | |
| And hang these NUT' s over seven continents and seven seas | |
| Streets is Lebonese | |
| Be rockin Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines | |
| Most of these MC' s can' t even rap | |
| Just modeling, go gold and get bigheaded like they swallowin colleges | |
| I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out | |
| You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck | |
| Me? I' m ain' t even in my prime | |
| When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines | |
| Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind | |
| But I rep westside, so I keep L. A. time | |
| That' s a threehour difference | |
| So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine | |
| In seven days, she' d still be a dime | |
| Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins | |
| Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains | |
| Kiddo, I be doin my thugthizzo for shizzo | |
| And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow | |
| So what' s happening, from P. I. to ' 99 Madden | |
| Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin | |
| Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray | |
| Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas | |
| Canibus | |
| Yo yo yo yo | |
| I kick a verse at sixhundred and sixtysix meghertz | |
| Make lightning flash across the sky everytime I curse | |
| Sixhundred and sixtysix flashes | |
| Give out sixhundred and sixtysix lashes | |
| To the backs of sixhundred and sixtysix Master of Ceremony hasbeens | |
| Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is | |
| If he' s a Catholic I nail him to a crucifix | |
| Then I beat him till he' s blackishblueish | |
| Then perform acupuncture wit sixhundred and sixtysix toothpicks | |
| Beat em wit two whips wit pieces of broken glass glued to it | |
| Your whole crew gets bayed and nuetered | |
| As i aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets | |
| Your armored cars and your kevlar vests is useless | |
| I' ma fuck all of you pussies like group sex | |
| You get sixhundred and sixtysix years imprisonment | |
| For bitin off another niggas' shit you bitch | |
| You got caught, now you on the other side of the law | |
| Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court | |
| To get some of your sentence knocked off, na nigga you wildin | |
| Cuz you still be in Riker' s Island gettin forced to toss salads | |
| You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that | |
| I' ma tape it on a digital video DAT and send a copy to Miramax | |
| Leave you exposed, turn on the fiction and fact so everybody you know | |
| You a suckerass nigga, fatherfuckin ass nigga | |
| That got fucked in the ass by a father figure | |
| Battle who? I' ll bruise and bash you, blast you | |
| Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo | |
| Delivering mind blowin rhymes and poems | |
| Controllin my tongue when I' m flowin like pilot controlled Boeings | |
| When I get bitten, I bite back | |
| Quicker than Tyson attacks, I don' t give a FUCK if I don' t get my license back | |
| So, take caution | |
| The Four Horsemen' ll chop your head off wit a sword then | |
| Gallop northward | |
| MC' s take caution | |
| The Four Horsemen' ll chop your head off wit a sword then | |
| Gallop northward mothafuckers | |
| Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by | |
| Just abide by what your ride by | |
| Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA! | |
| All | |
| Wavin the fourfour! All you heard was ' Priest, don' t hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the fourfour! All you heard was ' Bis, don' t hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the fourfour! All you heard was ' Ras, don' t hit me no more' | |
| Wavin the fourfour! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore | |
| Kurupt | |
| Yeah nigga, I' m headless without thoughts | |
| Wit my mothafuckin arms crossed | |
| I transform from a Dogg to a Horse | |
| Took over the whole race course | |
| Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle? | |
| Fading | |
| Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missle | |
| Let it whistle, they fall fuckin ' round wit the Dogg | |
| I' m a hog |
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