10, 9, 8 Songtext / Lyric

Wahoo, guess who's back?

Mommy, we're home

Say hello to my little friends

DJ Muggs, Soul Assassins, Cypress Hill

Everybody, put your hands where my eyes can see



Everywhere we go people know that we roll deep as fuck

Fourty fifty Samoans, they knowing when D-Bo was 50

Tweezy, Obie there won't 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

We've changed the way we move so man up if you can't adjust

You may end up getting rushed by too many to handle us

It's funny, I guess money does have its advantages






And it isn't that we just think that we can't be touched

It's not like we're just feeling ourselves that much

It's just, that if someone ever does put us in the clutch

We just know that y'all ain't gon be the one who's gon do it



'Cause first of all you're pussy and everybody can see that

You fuck around, get caught in a spot that you shouldn't be at

That you got no business being in, we ain't even gon be in it

No one's gunna hear nothing, no one's gunna see this shit



And they'll be in and up out of it, them boys is bout it, bout it

The noise from be drowned out by the crowd

And you'll be laying on the ground getting trampled by people dancing

Till the club closes and clears out



And that's when they see you flatened

Nobody saw it happen, all 'cause your jaws are flapping

And you couldn't stop yapping and took it past rapping

It ain't about the music no more, it's 'bout trying to show off

And it feels like any minute the bomb is 'bout to go off