Bone Thugs-N-Harmony
Текст песни Land Of Tha Heartless

Krayzie:
Don't niggas don't wanna start shit. Buck, buck to the bang.
Sendin' bullets to the brain, nigga. Yeah.
A nigga that always at my city with me, now, who was that nigga
they put in the plastic? Nigga that thought he could bang.
That nigga's stuck. That nigga's blasted. They got my man from
the Land. Never ran, I step with deadly men. If ya come a
little bit closer, I can turn you into sand. Now follow me, now
roll, stroll down to Cleveland. We thuggin', we theivin', we
put it
in deep, and the blood is seepin'. Got niggas in alleys, fuck
niggas in badges. We say bang. Eighty-eight through the ten-five

(and Clair). St. Clair ain't shit to fuck with. Pumpin', Krayzie
be bumpin', dumpin' the bloody body. Me never knew one that
could flow with the tongue. We comin' to shoot up your posse.
My niggas--they comin' up out the woods, to get the goods.
Krayzie be thug, and (want to) die--that's from comin' up in
my hood. We killas. Get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun,
bust one, they done. Cleveland is where we from. Hearts--thugs have none.

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off, there's really
no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my click, 'cause even the bitches carry guns.

Bizzy:
Soon as I hit the scene, (?), feelin' for a pistol, but I didn't
have no gun. Come with original thugsta shit. I be flippin' it
with me
tongue. Nigga, Cleveland is the city where we come from, and
I show them hoes up outta the Clair that thugs don't run from

none. Follow rip one, now, on and on, them definitely got me
back. And I'm throwin' up St. Clair thugsta niggas, with or
without my gat. Forever be ready to pull out me murder tools
East 99 style, fools. Me put it in mind on murderin' you,
followin' whenever me murderous trues. Niggas that claim to bang
bang, when it comes to slang thangs, they do. They know
they cannot buck me, one of 'em sure to slug me, but they hope
the thug I be, Bizzy. Better let 'em him be or they'll see.
Nigga, hangin', swangin', never to miss. The Biz is me.

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off, there's really
no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my click, 'cause even the bitches carry guns.

Layzie:
Livin' in the Land of the Heartless with a sawed-off pump, shootin'
craps. Hand on my strap, roll thick, 'cause they jack.
Runnin' up on the Bone, you needin' to be pap pap. Soldier thugs
be pumpin' them slugs, defendin' they drugs. When they roll
up, niggas be creepin' up slow, heavy packed with they gats,
and try to pull a hold up, but nigga, now hold on. Wanna test
the
Bone? The gauge is shown. Any is mind blown, lookin' down the
barrel of this Mossberg chrome to the dome. Bone, clack
back me gauge in a rage, copper take these here rocks. Double
glock, my pistols be pumpin' and buckin' out shots whenever
the trouble knocks. Steadily hittin', me clean up, get lit up
for ready your soul to burn, and I blow your shit up, get 'em
on the
get up, 'cause niggas must learn. Yearnin' to earn cheese. Ready
to die, so niggas can't take these. Wantin' to clock G's, want

to move keys, not takin' a loss on my green leaves, please. East
nine nine, crime finds mine, strayin' on this road to hell, and

prison walls, testin' balls, for the cause, gotta get that sale,
and bailin', kickin' up mud, rollin', I get with my thugs. Rippin'
apart
shit, so nigga, don't start shit, 'cause we kill in the Land
of the Heartless. Die.

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off, there's really
no place to run.
Niggas get vicious with my click, 'cause even the bitches carry guns.