16 Men Till There’s No Men Left Cypress Hill
"16 Men Till There’s No Men Left" by Cypress Hill, released in 1995, is a hip-hop track that explores themes of survival, resilience, and the harsh realities of life. The lyrics reflect a gritty narrative about conflict and perseverance. Unique elements include haunting beats and samples. The song resonates with listeners for its raw honesty and has contributed to Cypress Hill's cultural impact in the hip-hop scene. #HipHop
[Intro]
"Ladies and gentlemen
We would like to present to you
A group that is simply just marvelous, just marvelous
Ladies and gentlemen, Cypress, Hill"
[Hook: B-Real, Sen Dog]
16 men on a dead man's list
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
16 men till there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
[Verse 1: B-Real]
So many fuckin' emcees claim supremacy
On whose got hip-hop locked, it could never be
One who is solo, runnin' the whole game
That's bullshit, like cops never sniffed cocaine
But I'm taking on all comers, droppin' bombers
Reducin' numbers, makin' it hot like the summer
This, one emcee he couldn't deal with the skill
Like Jack did Jill, I rolled his ass down the Hill
Beaten broken and coughin' and chokin' on the rhyme
Like a hooker, suckin' a dick for the first time
His, rhyme was hollow with no flow to follow
Bust a nut, all in your mouth, and made him swallow
I take 16 emcees, lock 'em in a room
Make 'em feel the contact, eatin' the mushrooms
Playin' with your mind, makin' you feel the Force
Had to cancel out, two punk niggas up in The Source
Tried to get XXL, they still fell
Bitches go tell your troubles to Montel
"Ladies and gentlemen
We would like to present to you
A group that is simply just marvelous, just marvelous
Ladies and gentlemen, Cypress, Hill"
[Hook: B-Real, Sen Dog]
16 men on a dead man's list
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
16 men till there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
[Verse 1: B-Real]
So many fuckin' emcees claim supremacy
On whose got hip-hop locked, it could never be
One who is solo, runnin' the whole game
That's bullshit, like cops never sniffed cocaine
But I'm taking on all comers, droppin' bombers
Reducin' numbers, makin' it hot like the summer
This, one emcee he couldn't deal with the skill
Like Jack did Jill, I rolled his ass down the Hill
Beaten broken and coughin' and chokin' on the rhyme
Like a hooker, suckin' a dick for the first time
His, rhyme was hollow with no flow to follow
Bust a nut, all in your mouth, and made him swallow
I take 16 emcees, lock 'em in a room
Make 'em feel the contact, eatin' the mushrooms
Playin' with your mind, makin' you feel the Force
Had to cancel out, two punk niggas up in The Source
Tried to get XXL, they still fell
Bitches go tell your troubles to Montel
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