Dead Men Tell No Tales (LP Version) - LP Version Lyrics
| Song | Dead Men Tell No Tales (LP Version) - LP Version |
| Artist | Cypress Hill |
| Album | IV |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra (4x) | |
| Any die, if the beholder the soldier begins to bore | |
| Four score, seven bullets (Yeah hit the floor nigga!) | |
| Take you outdoor, darkness frightens you even more | |
| I'm here to enlighten you, with the hardcore | |
| Bring it raw, like the red, dead meat, in your plate | |
| And I'll fill you up with the energy the Hill create | |
| I gets sticky, like a green bag of the bomb diggy | |
| Now I'm fuckin with your head, and you realize that it's tricky | |
| Got you paranoid, feeling the void, you can't take it | |
| The reward bein destroyed, freakazoid toy | |
| With ya mind, all styles deployed, you find danger | |
| in the stranger's eye, the killin comes second nature | |
| Your battle filled up the mind it's fallin out, hear you callin out | |
| for help, and all the fuckin yellin to is yourself | |
| Crawlin and beggin for mercy means nothing when you bluffin | |
| I'm pushin the button and straight dumpin on fools frontin | |
| [Sen Dog] | |
| Boo-yah!... come on, motherfucker | |
| [B-Real] | |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra (4x) | |
| WAR pigs, you dig, see kickin out Mr. Big | |
| Take a sip of wine, engage in a battle of the mind (Checkmate motherfucker!) | |
| You feelin the force, meant for remorse, right from the source | |
| Your head is, gettin fucked and I'm skippin the intercourse | |
| Behold, the Mic Horse, you're takin a loss nigga | |
| Got the Nina Ross, don't need no cross, my fuckin paper | |
| chaser green bag gladiator, terminator weed germaniator | |
| The greater the risk you fuckin hater | |
| Hit you with the pyscho beta, clickin the fader slow | |
| with the Hi-Lo, servin the blow, who got the glow | |
| Dead men tale no tales, you fail to see the reason | |
| I'm easing to squeeze the trigger, go figure, it's killin season | |
| [Sen Dog] | |
| Nighty-night, mothafucka | |
| [B-Real] | |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra (7x) |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra 4x | |
| Any die, if the beholder the soldier begins to bore | |
| Four score, seven bullets Yeah hit the floor nigga! | |
| Take you outdoor, darkness frightens you even more | |
| I' m here to enlighten you, with the hardcore | |
| Bring it raw, like the red, dead meat, in your plate | |
| And I' ll fill you up with the energy the Hill create | |
| I gets sticky, like a green bag of the bomb diggy | |
| Now I' m fuckin with your head, and you realize that it' s tricky | |
| Got you paranoid, feeling the void, you can' t take it | |
| The reward bein destroyed, freakazoid toy | |
| With ya mind, all styles deployed, you find danger | |
| in the stranger' s eye, the killin comes second nature | |
| Your battle filled up the mind it' s fallin out, hear you callin out | |
| for help, and all the fuckin yellin to is yourself | |
| Crawlin and beggin for mercy means nothing when you bluffin | |
| I' m pushin the button and straight dumpin on fools frontin | |
| Sen Dog | |
| Booyah!... come on, motherfucker | |
| BReal | |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra 4x | |
| WAR pigs, you dig, see kickin out Mr. Big | |
| Take a sip of wine, engage in a battle of the mind Checkmate motherfucker! | |
| You feelin the force, meant for remorse, right from the source | |
| Your head is, gettin fucked and I' m skippin the intercourse | |
| Behold, the Mic Horse, you' re takin a loss nigga | |
| Got the Nina Ross, don' t need no cross, my fuckin paper | |
| chaser green bag gladiator, terminator weed germaniator | |
| The greater the risk you fuckin hater | |
| Hit you with the pyscho beta, clickin the fader slow | |
| with the HiLo, servin the blow, who got the glow | |
| Dead men tale no tales, you fail to see the reason | |
| I' m easing to squeeze the trigger, go figure, it' s killin season | |
| Sen Dog | |
| Nightynight, mothafucka | |
| BReal | |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra 7x |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra 4x | |
| Any die, if the beholder the soldier begins to bore | |
| Four score, seven bullets Yeah hit the floor nigga! | |
| Take you outdoor, darkness frightens you even more | |
| I' m here to enlighten you, with the hardcore | |
| Bring it raw, like the red, dead meat, in your plate | |
| And I' ll fill you up with the energy the Hill create | |
| I gets sticky, like a green bag of the bomb diggy | |
| Now I' m fuckin with your head, and you realize that it' s tricky | |
| Got you paranoid, feeling the void, you can' t take it | |
| The reward bein destroyed, freakazoid toy | |
| With ya mind, all styles deployed, you find danger | |
| in the stranger' s eye, the killin comes second nature | |
| Your battle filled up the mind it' s fallin out, hear you callin out | |
| for help, and all the fuckin yellin to is yourself | |
| Crawlin and beggin for mercy means nothing when you bluffin | |
| I' m pushin the button and straight dumpin on fools frontin | |
| Sen Dog | |
| Booyah!... come on, motherfucker | |
| BReal | |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra 4x | |
| WAR pigs, you dig, see kickin out Mr. Big | |
| Take a sip of wine, engage in a battle of the mind Checkmate motherfucker! | |
| You feelin the force, meant for remorse, right from the source | |
| Your head is, gettin fucked and I' m skippin the intercourse | |
| Behold, the Mic Horse, you' re takin a loss nigga | |
| Got the Nina Ross, don' t need no cross, my fuckin paper | |
| chaser green bag gladiator, terminator weed germaniator | |
| The greater the risk you fuckin hater | |
| Hit you with the pyscho beta, clickin the fader slow | |
| with the HiLo, servin the blow, who got the glow | |
| Dead men tale no tales, you fail to see the reason | |
| I' m easing to squeeze the trigger, go figure, it' s killin season | |
| Sen Dog | |
| Nightynight, mothafucka | |
| BReal | |
| Pam Pa Ra Ra 7x |
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