16 Men Till There’s No Men Left lyrics

[Intro]
"Ladies and gentlemen
We would like to present to you
A group that is simply just marvelous, just marvelous
Ladies and gentlemen, Cypress, Hill"

[Hook: B-Real, Sen Dog]
16 men on a dead man's list
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
16 men till there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!

[Verse 1: B-Real]
So many f*ckin' emcees claim supremacy
On whose got hip-hop locked, it could never be
One who is solo, runnin' the whole game
That's bullsh*t, like cops never sniffed cocaine
But I'm taking on all comers, droppin' bombers
Reducin' numbers, makin' it hot like the summer
This, one emcee he couldn't deal with the skill
Like Jack did Jill, I rolled his ass down the Hill
Beaten broken and coughin' and chokin' on the rhyme
Like a hooker, suckin' a di*k for the first time
His, rhyme was hollow with no flow to follow
Bust a nut, all in your mouth, and made him swallow
I take 16 emcees, lock 'em in a room
Make 'em feel the contact, eatin' the mushrooms
Playin' with your mind, makin' you feel the Force
Had to cancel out, two punk n*ggas up in The Source
Tried to get XXL, they still fell
b*tches go tell your troubles to Montel
[Hook: B-Real, Sen Dog]
16 men now there's 13 left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
16 men now there's 13 left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!

[Verse 2: B-Real]
I'm trippin' on the people controllin' the airwaves
Got it goin' on, you know it all, but God save
Your ass for clashin' with the Soul Assassin
That's like Mike f*ckin' with Poppa Joe Jackson
Ass-whoop all over the place, you can't hide behind
The physical, better run to the spiritual
Ass-whoop critical, or you can get it
From the lyrical, b*tch-made n*ggas are invisible
Dysfunctional, hypocritical, smile in your face
The f*ckin cynical sh*t brains
As I sit back and say, TALLY-HO!
One of these days your punk ass gonna go
Guess you had a key to figure the f*ckin' flow
But you're locked out, and the bomb's about to blow

[Hook: B-Real, Sen Dog]
16 men let me see who's next
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
16 men till there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo!
[Verse 3: B-Real]
Twelve punks to go, who's next on the list
Matter of fact I got one in my head to fix
There was one particular fool in the circle who fell off
Greed overcame the n*gga who at all costs
Changed up to gain it all, but shared none
Who made him all the money to overcome?
n*ggas up on the Hill, in the lab
He was rollin' big balla style, high profile
Oh child, make me wanna act juvenile
All smiles, right in my face, but wait a minute now
Welcome to the 360, degrees
Pay a fee when you f*ckin' your people over the cheese
No soul, no conscience, no loyalty
To the n*ggas who got him treated, like royalty
Aiyyo time's up, you're gonna end up seein' visions
Of everybody, you f*cked over, you're Scared Sober

[Hook: B-Real, Sen Dog]
16 men till there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho them n*ggas has gotta go
16 men till there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho them n*ggas has gotta go

[Verse 4: B-Real]
f*ck the hater with the symbol and no soul
And that b*tch n*gga who stole my car stereo
Trick Deez, gets no love, she gets nuts
Like Ass Miller, and that f*ckin ex-dealer
Can't forget the n*gga who was down with the Hill-a
And that punk who tried to dip into the squealer
You get bucked like C. Tucker and Will Bennett
Let me step, over the hump, and represent it
You go down like Jerry, and get smacked
Like Trick Leo, now here's your f*ckin eulogy-o!
[Hook: B-Real, Sen Dog]
That was 16 men now there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo
16 men now there's no one left
Yo-ho-ho and a bag of indo