All:
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, killa

Tony Tone:
If you're down to glide and slide on the Clair, then let's ride Tony Tone roll with Bone on the darkside, but when you come
just bring your guns with ya If your a busta niggas gon' have fun with ya So, nigga, don't get me wrong, my niggas swang
them thangs, bang some brains, slangin' llello It all remains the same

Wish:
Step and you're catchin' some buckshots Murder one on the Clair-nine-glock-glock Mo Thug, what's up? Nigga, get drug,
put 'em in the mud, pop and I can't stop, now Niggas that I thug with kill Pop to the chest How does it feel? And nigga we
peel caps Pap Fin to get your wig cracked back Killin', I'm buckin' 'em down I wish ya would try to get some redrum,
bitch Nigga, don't test my hood

Tombstone:
A first degree murderin' wig splitter, gravedigger diggin' a ditch, puttin' a bitch and them snitches in the pit, so don't fuck with
them niggas off the nine-nine--the foundation of niggas committin' the crime and murderin' every time Niggas beware, 'cause
here come the Clair mobbin' like some soldiers Watch me fold ya for actin' like somebody never told ya So off we go, to the
bloody road, time to bless some souls, with that nine shot, givin' props to the double glock

Flesh:
Pump, pump, when I let my shells down Hit a lick, now gimme the goodies, and nigga me dash I reach for the gauge and
mash, yell out "one-eighty-seven" and blast Nigga, don't test nuts Your luck's fucked Your feelin' wrath of the Boneyard,
thuggin' off with the Graveyard Shift, then comin' up for your ho card, bitch Scandalous niggas dwell in the Clair, be servin'
them chop chops We rippin' them guts with buckshots, pop, pop Me give up shots out to the glock-glock

Krayzie:
You better believe that we runnin' this thug style: Krayzie, Layzie, Bizzy, Flesh, Wish, them wicked, now We straight off the
glock-glock Run up, get your wig split now East 99 follow me down to me street, buck, we thug on the darkside Better
have your pop, niggas be trippin' and flippin' as soon they get high One-eighty-seven, you're caught in a murder Niggas up to
no good Po-po Fuck no They never could fuck with a thug-ho

Pop, pop, givin' up shots to the double-glock, glock

Mo! Hart:
Nothin' but them killas, straight up thuggas, rippin' bucks of lead, and (Clair thugs) gaugin' pump eruptions, nickel trip and shut
and fuck 'em down, buckin' them coppers down, round after round after round Bloody bodies, badges spreaded on the
ground Ain't no sound, just the demons screamin', "Rest in peace I guess you got to suffer" Ready to dip, hollow point tip,
got your wig split, and made your body rupture, hunt my victims on a mission, flippin', livin' on a darker side, creepin' on your
homicide Let my nuts and my gauge hang low Now, walk on by

All:
[Boogy Nikke on the mic, right]

Boogy Nikke:
Thuggin' through my thuggish-ass hood at night with my pipe Thuggin' down the double-glock, tryin' to get my serve on,
watchin' my back while six-five try to roll on But one to the sucka's head, and two up in his body Now peep my creep I
keep the reefer smoke all up inside me

Layzie:
We jumpin' up out from the hood We bailin' We thuggin' We lookin' like crooks The terror be fatal, ready to roll, now we
willing and able, rollin' with Ruthless, bitch, better check my label Murdered them, never come again where the scandalous
niggas settle Bloody nigga, trues be on my level Eighty-eight through the ten-five is the soldiers' ghetto Nigga, don't take the
wrong turn; you will enter the hood, and we're splitters so cover your dome, out the cut, where the thugs and hustlas roam
Cleveland Browns, the Dawg Pound home, it's on

Sin:
Never get in the mix of a Clair player; you're liable to get your wig split and dumped in a ditch, bitch, 'cause them thugs sendin'
them slugs, leavin' 'em off in the cut in a puddle of blood, say what? Don't make me go in my trench Nigga, ya got me bent,
all fucked up Your luck's up Now you gotta get sent to your gravesite as John Doe for fuckin' with those

Gates:
It's them thugs runnin' amuck all night, but a slug up in you The territory never divide, go nationwide with the buck, buck So
where you at? Where you at? I'm strapped and ready to snap and yank a nigga's neck back Split them (Kool-Aid) hats
Into the graveyard, but prepare to get (drugged up on the Clair to tear a round) 'fore somebody gets stuck You still won't
want some, bitch, but what the muthafuck? I wanna one to whammy with a TEC-9 Now, bitch, press your luck