Lyrics:
Cypress Hill Cypress Hill Iii Temples Of Boom

Refugee camp, with Cypress Hill Yo, bringin' it on Cubans meet the Haitians Perfect combination, check it You say guns, I say pistolas Well, if you got

can take ya to the limit Temperature risen, nasal highzen Comin' back in with the lows for the fows Fuckin' up egos, an' anybody, oppose The numba one skunk freaka, the Cypress Hill

move back, yo, be real Come back, come back yeah I'm the head-hunter you goin' under Make a trophy call it the two-headed buster On my mantle back in the temple

You don't wanna turn your back on me When you least expect it, I come with a wicked method I'm creepin' on ya, think bout your homeboys bleeding on ya

No competition can ever get none Straight flip flop nigga flip flop On your punk ass until you drop (Cypress Hill, coming at your grill) You're nothing but a motherfucking time Clock Cypress motherfucking Hill

[B-Real]: I neva rapped on an R&B record, and I neva will, I got these phoney muthafuckas, talk about lets keep it real, But, they don't know how to take