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Whom Die They Lie Lyrics

from Art Of War

"Whom Die They Lie" is track #25 on the album Art Of War. It was written by Flesh-n-bone/mccane, Bryon/henderson, Anthony/howse, Steven/middleton, Tim.
"Whom Die They Lie" is track #25 on the album Art Of War. It was written by Flesh-n-bone/mccane, Bryon/henderson, Anthony/howse, Steven/middleton, Tim.

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Bizzy-(Talking)It's East 1999 time.

Bizzy-(Rapping)I promise that I'll hunt you bastards, zip 'em in casket, here to get drastic, fast in a hurry. Is you ready for me magic? Let 'em blast, and nigga, better burn, then move, true to the murder mo, gladly, 'cause the haters never had to have me, want to follow fools through alleys, 'cause ready to lose and daddy who raised me like Layzie, Krayzie, probably St. Clair babies, so hate me, but I handle my business, so lately I can handle my shady, kill 'em, but we think I'm a bomb again, no leavin' as they put me in prison and give me time, I'm ready for the gun to go get'em and I'm a fill 'em with eleven of mine and one die. Is he ready to lie if I decide, lookin' at my killin's in his eyes and boom to go bye, I'm gonna fly [fly], whom die they lie.

Flesh-Whom die they lie.
Krayzie-No mo' mercy . . .
Flesh-Whom die they lie. [Shot.]
Flesh~N~Bone-Now, who wanna go snitch? Talk shit about real trues, still be payin' dues, saw them sneakin', and a nigga gettin' sick of all the playas, they hatin'. Why so many fakers runnin' they mouth about shit and they lose, lookin' so deep eyes, and tell it when they lyin', stop tryin', but they never convince none, got hundreds runnin' up with gauges, Still I'm sure they sure they fryin' us, but I buck, sometimes I save it, for me kill 'em off late at night. So, what if it got too late for me to get 'em? Then gotta switch to testin' G's. In this game I aim to keep away from every crazy steady, we're too quick to pull petty bullshit. Y'all thought that you could fuck with the Cleveland thugstas, #1 fillin' his gun, and I wish you would, bitch, pop, pop and pump and have to show you through, when Mo' thugs comin' in, it's a headline. Time to get on top of moff top when they got on stages all over this nation, world, and I plan on, now look at you bustas get mad. Beat the fuckas on their own line, don't make 'em tell it to ya twice, when you crack a grip, keep it real, but you should die, pay the price top, whom die they lie.

Layzie-Whom die they lie.
Krayzie-No mo' mercy . . .
Layzie-Whom die they lie [Shot.]
Layzie-Time to stick it for the thugsta, thugsta, little sneaky muthafucka on a mission, grind, be plottin' for it quickly. Who fried? Do or die, nigga, you and I for the creep on the come up, and pay these niggas a visit. So is it, was it, wicked ways, got me strugglin' for days. Hey, a nigga's gotta eat, so yo, I gotta get paid and blaze. So swift not to catch a case, crept up in his place while the nigga was gone for his safe and his stones, and it's on, 'cause the Bones havin' a say, I won't forget this evenin'. Nigga had theif, Little Layzie Bone, thievin', 'cause he had cameras hid off into his ceiling. Pin me, niggas run away, they said they lookin' for me, but I'm a find a nigga killin' before this nigga find me. Y'all niggas know a murder-bound city, see me when I'm servin' now, parlay it down, breakin' it down in the C-Town, spot 'em on the avenue, follow him passin' through, get 'em at the next red light, green light, got the go ahead, infrared on your forehead. Whom die they lie.

Krayzie-Whom die they lie. No mo' mercy . . . Whom die they lie. [Shot.]

I'm that nigga with the shot and, red-hand, answerin' niggas, poppin' enemy. Drop 'em. Me gotta get 'em, kill 'em before they get the coppers on us, and you know the bitches want us, but as soon as they close, it's the pap pap, pardon me. Take a look, and what you see--Krayzie still runnin' from the police, 'cause I got a fuckin' bag of weed. I'll be leavin' sale now on the scene. I can do it. I can kill 'em if he gotta be a casualty. He after me, but I'm a put a bullet through your head. Shoulda fled, but you didn't, so bye-bye. Take 'em a couple a days to get your body outta the sea, meet your fuckin' fate and in grave lay. St. Clair, Wasteland, all my niggas comin', oh but they can't take it, if you wanna make it, break 'em, hey, or can't a nigga get paid, or your fuckin' with some niggas in some desperate days. Crime, yes, it pays, if it's cool with it, cool with it, never act a fool with it, broad, 'cause your losin' me. Tell a muthafuckin' nigga, 'cause a nigga told another nigga, "I know who did it." Rollin' with the thuggish bunch of all. Testin' nuts, and, nigga, we'll cut your balls. It's Mr. Sawed-off, Sawed-off. Whom die, die, whom die, die, they lie.

Krayzie-Whom die they lie. No mo' mercy . . . Whom die they lie. [Shot.]


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Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group


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