Cypress Hill - U Know the Rules (Mi Vida Loca) lyrics

[Tony Touch] Well it's the alley cat, puffin on a hoody mack Some say I'm a titere, but yo I ain't all of that Hit you wit a baseball bat if you try to ill though f** around you get bucked on the hill bro Mr. Tony Toca, rollin wit the joker East L.A. to Bushwick, cosa nostra Bring it to you b**h a** clicks like we supposed Cypress Hill in full effect wit the mota Ain't nuthin changed but the date, so f** wit jake Expect me to cut the cake, it's much to late I'm takin it all, send you to the back of the line Breakin you off, watchin you react to the rhyme Me packin the nine, nah that's a whole other game Cuz if I'm forced to pull out, I'mma blow out ya brain Yo, what we feel, never go wit the grain It's Tony Touch and B-Real still goin insane [Chorus 2X] Mi Vida Loca, get blast Money moves, you snooze you loose Punk n***a, you know the rules We strike first, we hit hard, no regard And move weight, international, state to state [B-Real] Maginifico, here we go, me and Tony Toca My name ain't Ricky but I'm livin the vida loca Serial rhyme k**a, the paper spinner Eatin the p**y sup, havin you for dinner Like a fur tinner, makin you loose it over the years like a winner I can't abuse like a picketer, I send it a flow, control temper We into the party, wit bounce and yo go get ya All this other sh** don't really matter I'd rather be open your grave, relivin my bladder Ain't nothin sadder, the Mad Hatter Make a fine cheddar, keep climbin the ladder You try follow after, I'm sorry to shatter your dream Splatter your spleens, scatter your teams Bad as it seems, n***as will follow the beam Money cream, funny things, happen when you runnin things [Chorus 2X] [B-Real] Time to put a little pressure, but the addresser You get no lesser, microphone finesser Rhymes go like pressure, and listen never Whether you gather to go, never become richer Keep the punk n***a b**h up Pain change like a woman a** switch up You rhyme on the mic like you ate a dick up Mouth full, blown talk, not to hiccup Pick up your brain off the ground wit the vacuum cleaner Life's a b**h like Elliott Misdemeanor I have you a** up wit the sharp cleaver, thru the receiver Spot it like rhyme weaver, follow the leader sh**'s off the f**in meter, drum beater Side reader, while we puffin the cold 'hebba [Chorus .6X] [Tony Touch] Yeah Mr. Cocota**o, hit you wit a baso Say hello to my little friend, posa caso Tato, now that's all she wrote Muthaf**as think I fell for the okie doke But you can quote me loke, cuz the joke's on you Soul Assa**ins in the house, you better hold on to Now you can watch these rap n***as just roll on through Or you can get up and get involved it's on you U know the rules