b real it s been a while now been around the block many miles many faces many places that i found friends places where i spend time places where my mind roam places i can call home places i can get stoned i just wanna be alone when i m feelin in my zone people want to knock me down cos they never have their own they won t get the best of me but they try hopelessly why you wanna fuck wit me i m not what you s posed to be you could not give a damn coulda just killed a man sawn off in my hand but i had to kill the plan think i ve found my piece of mind feet planted on the ground i just had to redefine what i thought to myself it all goes around me and others who would down me who i don t give a fuck about trouble always found me i know used to welcome it with my arms open wide trouble s hand s on the door but it can t come inside no trouble s at my door you want trouble c mon you want trouble you want trouble c mon you want trouble sen dog trouble on the line all the fuckin time got me contemplatin the solution the fusion my wicked mind got suckers that hate me but it don t really matter i m like a gat when i bust niggas run and scatter movin in circles throwin elbows and fists you got to be a real nigga in a cypress hill pit lotta critics talkin shit but i m not concerned a hundred g s for sixty minutes is the bank i earn i try to put it to you bluntly so you bitches can learn that no body get tired when it s time to burn with so many phonies out there a lot of you have been fooled in to actually believin that some shit is cool take the blinders off and go look for yourself fuck hearin about shit from somebody else i m down for myself i back up myself put in all on the line make sure that i m felt no trouble s at my door you want trouble c mon you want trouble you want trouble c mon you want trouble b real nooooo b real look the wall s closin in and my shoe s wearin thin had to be the biggest clown that you couldn t comprehend some hated on my game said i wouldn t be the same called me rock superstar insane in the brain but i know i haven t changed so i brush you to the side trouble s knockin on the door anxious jus to come inside times i gotta block it out no one likes to talk it out trouble keeps comin and i can t seem to lock it out got my hands on the phone i don t wanna have to talk if you re feelin funky son then i guess you gotta jump i can see it in your eyes you don t seem to recognise i wouldn t fall into your trap for many lives to compromise i m not fallin for your shit you ain t gonna take me there you can talk all you want but i don t got your weight to bear no trouble s at my door b real you want trouble c mon you want trouble 
['chicano rap', 'gangster rap', 'hardcore hip hop', 'hip hop', 'rap', 'rap rock', 'west coast rap']