Killafornia Cypress Hill

[Verse 1: B-Real]
Living in the city of the Scandalous
Shiesty motherfuckers, can't even trust my own brothers
So who can I choose to trust, me, that's who
Niggas want a piece of the pie, fuck off and die!
Jealous, envious fools want to rush this
Loco, Cuban ass nigga with the cash, shit
Motherfuckers just get your own, and leave mine alone
Forty-five ways to get sewn
Send out the invitation
To the party of your elimination
I got creeps that play for keeps, (Hardball)
Now I'm laying your ass down to sleep
But every hustler wanna be balling
But I got the balls for the shot calling
I pull strings, the Don King, only in America
Can I hustle, and flex my muscle

[Interlude: Hustlers]
-Yeah, man, I've been out here
Running game for eight years
-I know I'm getting tired of standing
On this corner
-Nigga, I want a fat pad, and fly ass pool
Finest motherfucking bitches, jewels
And all that shit, if I got to take it
From a nigga
-Shit, let him run for me then
-I can work for myself, don't have to
Work for nobody, I'll be my own hustler