Better Run, Better Hide - Bizzy Bone

[Intro] 
(Yeah!) Yeah, Bizzy the Kid, the midwest cowboy 
Galloping to a hood near you 
Imagine me being signed to B2K (What!) 
What you fuckin' think you could pay me in monopoly money 
Man I will smack one of you bitches in the head 
With a baseball bat, but I ain't fuckin' around 

[Chorus] 
You run, and you hide.. 
Better hide, better hide 
And you run, and you and hide.. 
Better hide, hide.. 
You run, and you hide.. 
Better hide, better hide 
And you run, and you and hide.. 
Better hide, hide.. 

[Verse 1] 
Son of a bitch, mothafucka, they never threw a grenade 
I'd never sell out to B2K 
Gotta love the way the industry be holdin' me back 
I'm the rebellious leader of the army brigade 
Ain't a nigga that could bite my style, because it always change 
You hold me down, I'm still gon' reign 
Got popped in the back of the dome 
Went home, came back, put a bullet in one of his fuckin' brains 
Murdered my little brother and how much do you think I payed 
To chop up his body to dead remains, God kidnapped you 
Threw the tape like Kane, jump outta the window 
You know I'm gettin' away 
They murdered my general 
Now it's time to take this shit to another level 
The Babylonian's against the Rebel's 
It was seven of us comin' with the Bone Thugs, up against the raws 
Come out corners doin' the devils, put the pedal to the metal 
With me and my seven animals 
Right around the corner, reload, and holdin' the handle 
Got a .357 that everybody call Cannibal, Russian Roulette 
Who's next, ready to gamble, I'm a ramblin' man 
I keep guns on a mantle and a candle for my little brother 
Capo Confuscious, you know what it is, it's how we do it 
Throw a brick in the building, scandal mothafucka it's Ruthless 
I never tolerated a Judist, The Passion of Christ 
Give me the money, you'll never fuck me twice 
Boy shut for the apostles, givin' the Gospel was the wings 
Spread 'em open, takin' flight, nigga shot at 
Bizzy the Kid's ready for combat, bring it on 
Napalm, brung back, runnin' with machine guns 
And an all around drum, look similar, sinister 
Ripsta with the napalm 

[Chorus] 
You run, and you hide.. 
Better hide, better hide 
And you run, and you and hide.. 
Better hide, hide.. 
You run, and you hide.. 
Better hide, better hide 
And you run, and you and hide.. 
Better hide, hide.. 

[Verse 2] 
I couldn't fuck in the kitchen, watch the FED's kickin' 
I carry niggaz away and then they start snitchin' 
Bitchefied, they got me mystefied, I'm fuckin' money on 
Here to say they get to stickin' for the bitches 
My niggaz in the pen turned rats into women 
And gave 'em pony tails, make 'em wear ribbons 
Through the visiting room, he's kissing his kids 
And 'bout to do my mothafuckin' dishes 
In the crib come on, you wanna feel it, I'm the realest 
High off spinach, before, I'm getttin' sentenced 
But, hey, what about the apprentice, I'll never tell 
I already told you what the 7th do to the snitches 
Split personality, sorta like Fight Club, never get rest 
I got to smoke weed, the blood on my little brother, blood 
What you really wanna do, I don't think you really want none 
Roll down the window like what up cuz, fuck the cops 
Fuck the fuzz, look in my eyes you could see the buzz 
See the thug, hardships, mothafucka, that I just had to break 
With the tongue and I'm horse like hung, ask my baby mom 
You rap like dung 
Can anybody tell me where you got this shit from 
Cause I'm the mothafucka with the gun and the dum dums 
And I smack 'em up, nigga suckin' pump pump 
Chris Stokes, better get 'em 'fore I get one 
And put your money where your mouth is, I'll be ready for war 
Get kicked with the hot ones, and it's one last thing 
'Fore I knock you out 
It ain't nothin' like money in a ZipLock bag 
And you could get smacked up, (plus!) hey everybody 
B2K sucks, y'all better watch your mouth...Boy