Boo-Yaa T.r.i.b.e.

(feat. B-Real, Eminem)
[Intro: Eminem]
WAAAAHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [laughs]
Guess whos back?!?!
Mommy! Were home!!
Say hello to my little friends
DJ Muggs, Soul Assassins, Cypress Hill
Everybody! Put your hands where my eyes can see!!!
[Verse: Eminem]
Everywhere we go people know that we roll deep as fuck
Fourty fifty Samoans, they knowing when D-Bo was
50, Tweezy, Obie there wont be no hoe in us
They pop shit like they gon do shit but no one does
From New York down to Texas, back up to Los Angeles
Weve changed the way we move so man up if you cant adjust
You may end up getting rushed by too many to handle us
Its funny, I guess money does have its advantages
And it isnt that we just think that we cant be touched
Its not like were just feeling ourselves that much
Its just, that if someone ever does put us in the clutch
We just know that yall aint gon be the one whos gon do it
Cause first of all youre pussy and everybody can see that
You fuck around, get caught in a spot that you shouldnt be at
That you got no business being in, we aint even gon be in it
No ones gunna hear nothing, no ones gunna see this shit
And theyll be in and up out of it, them boys is bout it, bout it
The noise from (?) be drowned out by the crowd
And youll be laying on the ground getting trampled by people dancing
Till the club closes, and clears out
And thats when they see you flatened
Nobody saw it happen, all cause your jaws are flapping
And you couldnt stop yapping and took it past rapping
It aint about the music no more, its bout trying to show off
And it feels like any minute the bomb is bout to go off
[Chorus: Eminem]
Shits about to change, cause we aint playing no games
We aint budging neither are they, we aint saying no names
Shit just aint the same, when the Ks get to scream
Hip-hop is in a state of 911
It aint about hip-hop, cause those days are gone
It aint about trying rip shots, to get props no more
Its about trying not to get popped, and get dropped to the floor
Cause hip-hop is in a state of 911
[Verse: B-Real]
Step off my holster cause shit its getting serious
All theses drugs you be fucking with make you delirious
Thinking you coming with heat, yo son, Im curious
How long are you gunna hate us and judge us and jury us?
Some people can never fade us, that make us so furious
Mistake us for fakers, homie we greater and glorious
We living for real and others just making the stories up
Allusions are broken, so live it up, you corny fucks
If you take a fucking minute to think about what youve done
When you stood against a gangsta who live and die by the gun
Got a hot one, spraying you bitches til there is none
Im like a rolling stone homie, I got you under my thumb
Silly little bitches can end up right up in ditches
We cut you and give you stitches, for envy and all my riches
Your games just like a midget, youre clocking a small digit
Dealing with the Giant Goliath, people thats how we live it, cmon
[Chorus]
[Verse: Ganxsta Ridd]
Uh, gangsta Ganxsta who come to pay you a visit
On this shit you call hip-hop, this function is where did it
When I - put it in motion, my focus is getting branded
My appetite for destruction is blasted because I said it
Got you - stumbling for cover, this music dying in numbers
But you wouldnt pause and wonder, admitting its all glamour
When you - enter the business you thinking you running shit
You witness that funny shit, your bitches they aint shit!
We gangstas we blast first, ask questions later
All these - imitators parading like they some playas
Trying to - save hip-hop the task is something greater
Cause we old fashioned coded with loyalty motivaters
Get caught, Im not telling, or more like killing not caring
Im riding a - gangsta feeling, no fearing when gangstas dying
Im in a - full circle with homies thats supposed to bleed
On an 8 Mile mission with Cypress and O.G.s
[Chorus]
[ 911 Lyrics ]