(Jhaz, Tombstone, Boogy Nikke, Krayzie Bone)

[Continuous gun cocking.]  It's gon' be that.  Damn, man, I see all them muthauckin' police, dog.  Hell yeah, gimme that muthafucka.  Muthafuckas comin' down here, dog, for real.  They're on their way down to this muthafucka.  Let's get ready for these muthafuckas.  Serve them muthafuckas.  I put this muthafucka.  It's on like a muthafucka.  I hate these bitches and niggas.  Time to raid.  It ain't time.  [Sirens.] Let's take they muthafuckin' head off, right here, doe.  They gettin' up.  Come on, dog, they gettin' up.  Let's move the shit.  All right, nigga, I'm tryin' to load this muthafucka, damn!  Damn, here they come!  Fuck.  It's on.  Here they come, dog.  It's on.  [Gunfire.]  What's up?!  What's up, now, muthafucka?!  Police:  Surrender! Surrender!
We no surrender.  We no pretender.  We bang bang.

No surrender, no pretender, II Tru, my crew come thick.  Family behind us, you don't wanna see this Mo Thug click.  Too swift to be faded, just hated by them foes, throw blows, bow down hoes, Mo Thug handle this like pros.  I'm too cold, never catch me slippin'.  Muthafuckas set up.  II Tru to my dyin' day, rollin' with AJay, Mo Thug love, nigga, what?  You got your blue suits, you got your nine, but if you pop one time, my trues comin' back uptight and now I'm a end mine. I'm nothin' but one of the best females pumpin' in your ear, fillin' the air with nothin' but potent-ass bud smells.

We strapped with Bone, hit the deck, (...?...), strapped with a thirty-eight and TEC.  Hey, man, how we love them TECs--ain't gotta dump 'em, but when we find the muthafuckin' snitch, lynch 'em.  Head straight for ditch.  Victims, Sin, we gotta snake to snitch, goin' to the cut, so we can break the bitch.  How'd you want the nigga?  Red on his blue suits, fried, when he died.  Let's show the nigga he could never ride or fuck with the soldiers that glide on the Clair side.  Runnin' with gauges, flippin' your pages, fuck the cages, should've known not to fuck with thugs, all militant.  Hell, yeah, we chill, but we ill to defense of livin'.  Still can't help the way we roll in the Land, so cold.  Everybody singin' the devil's song along the road.

Boogy Nikke:
I'm takin' the lives of all them sergeants, leiutenants we pin this.  How far are you willing to go?  When you test us, we test nuts, boy.  Better part the sea and pen the scriptures, we read 'em.  Gotta get 'em where it hurt, gotta get their kids first, now my subject be the envy in me.  I wantin' your soul to burn to hell and dwell, but tell the past to meet you there.  Your family was sold to follow as I complete my intro on your people.  God, bless the children, though.  It was business, never personal.  Better pray to the Lord, for your soul on the way through tunnel of the light, can you see, can you see me?

Boy, you better believe that your people fin to feel it, when the coffin top drop, the box locked shut.  Toss 'em in the back of the hearse, and I wish I could watch the cop's crooked body rott, and thugs, will all in time, take over the world, collect the minds for all them nigga boys and girls and pearls to another dimension where it really is just us.  Fuck the system.  It's ya feelin' me, now, 'cause I ain't got time to be fuckin' with a street-weak, leakin' mind.  You know it's cool to be thuggin' on Ninety-nine, I parlay, break bustas, and, niggas, that's on the grind.  Niggas try creep up on ah come up, but I bet ya, nigga, come my way, you sprayed.  You knew we was real, we really do smoke blunts, we do all our own stunts.  Fuck cops a whole bunch.  Thought he want to die, so we fin to kill 'em, hit the copper, chop him up with the M-11, now feel the pain.  We, the T-H-U-G, be fuckin' soldiers.  Niggas is sure we got the real shit for ya.  Never respect 'em, ready to blow 'em out ya town, now.  Come on, y'all, we take a pow pow that gauge, that gauge.  We spray.  Dey lay.  Dey lay.  What a wonderful day.  Get up, buck, and fuck 'em on up when they pull ya' to the side, and they tryin' to put the cuffs on.  That's the perfect time to get it, pump, and you reach up in the glove, hold your breath, and get your bus on.  Let 'em feel the round or hear the sound of the twelve gauge eruption, destruction we've made.  Now the peelin' is through, and we got your pay.

We no surrender.  We no pretender.
We bang bang.

"No Pretender" Lyrics
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WasteLand Lyrics: The Art of Bone.  
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