Bizzy Bone - Better Run, Better Hide lyrics

(yeah) yeah, Bizzy the Kid
The midwest cowboy
Galloping to a hood near you
Imagine me being signed to B2K (What)
What you fuckin' think you could
Pay me in monopoly money
Man I will smack one of
You bitches in the head with a baseball bat
But I ain't fuckin' around

You run, and you hide
Better hide, better hide
And you run, and you and hide
Better hide, hide you run, and you hide
Better hide, better hide
And you run, and you and hide
Better hide, hide

Son of a bitch, mothafucka
They never threw a grenade
I'd never sell out to B2K


Gotta love the way the industry
Be holdin' me back
I'm the rebellious leader of the army brigade
Ain't a nigga that could bite my style
Because it always change
You hold me down, I'm still gon' reign
Got popped in the back of the dome
Went home, came back
Put a bullet in one of his fuckin' brains
Murdered my little brother and how much
Do you think I payed
To chop up his body to dead remains
God kidnapped you threw the tape like Kane
Jump outta the window
You know I'm gettin' away
They murdered my general
Now it's time to take this
Shit to another level
The Babylonian's against the Rebel's
It was seven of us comin'
With the Bone Thugs, up against the raws
Come out corners doin' the devils
Put the pedal to the metal
With me and my seven animals
Right around the corner, reload
And holdin' the handle
Got a 357 that everybody call Cannibal
Russian Roulette
Who's next, ready to gamble
I'm a ramblin' man
I keep guns on a mantle and
A candle for my little brother
Capo Confuscious, you know what it is
It's how we do it
Throw a brick in the building
Scandal mothafucka it's Ruthless
I never tolerated a Judist
The Passion of Christ
Give me the money, you'll never fuck me twice
Boy shut for the apostles
Givin' the Gospel was the wings
Spread 'em open, takin' flight, nigga shot at
Bizzy the Kid's ready for combat, bring it on
Napalm, brung back, runnin' with machine guns
And an all around drum, look similar
Sinister ripsta with the napalm

You run, and you hide
Better hide, better hide
And you run, and you and hide
Better hide, hide you run, and you hide
Better hide, better hide
And you run, and you and hide
Better hide, hide

I couldn't fuck in the kitchen
Watch the FED's kickin'
I carry niggas away and
Then they start snitchin'
Bitchefied, they got me mystefied
I'm fuckin' money on here to say they get to
Stickin' for the bitches
My niggas in the pen turned rats into women
And gave 'em pony tails
Make 'em wear ribbons
Through the visiting room
He's kissing his kids
And 'bout to do my mothafuckin' dishes
In the crib come on, you wanna feel it
I'm the realest high off spinach, before
I'm getttin' sentenced
But, hey what about the apprentice
I'll never tell i already told you what the
7th do to the snitches
Split personality, sorta like Fight Club
Never get rest i got to smoke weed, the
Blood on my little brother, blood
What you really wanna do
I don't think you really want none
Roll down the window like what up cuz
Fuck the cops fuck the fuzz
Look in my eyes you could see the buzz
See the thug, hardships, mothafucka
That I just had to break
With the tongue and I'm horse like hung
Ask my baby mom you rap like dung
Can anybody tell me where you
Got this shit from
Cause, I'm the mothafucka with the
Gun and the dum dums
And I smack 'em up, nigga suckin' pump pump
Chris Stokes, better get 'em 'fore I get one
And put your money where your mouth is
I'll be ready for war
Get kicked with the hot ones
And it's one last thing
'Fore I knock you out
It ain't nothin' like money in a ZipLock bag
And you could get smacked up
(plus) hey everybody
B2K sucks, y'all better watch your mouthboy