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Down '71 (The Getaway) Lyrics
Artist: Bone Thugs-N-Harmony
Album: E. 1999 Eternal
[Murmuring of courtroom.]
Playa hatin' ass muthafuckas, man. Fuck that. Man, put that shit out, man. Ain't 'posed to be smokin' no muthafuckin' weed in
court. Man, what the fuck you doing?
Man, fuck that. Man, they got my nigga.
Man, that shit ain't even cool.
Support his ass.
Okay, order in the court.
People versus Bone-thugs-n-harmony. Case #C601999.
Will the defendant please stand? Is there anything you wish to say on this matter before sentencing, Bizzy Bone?
You know the muthafucka did it.
Well the court sentences you to death by electric chair. [Laughs, turns maniacal.]
We had to get 'em up with two thugs, runnin' side by side with #1, bet I won't drop my gauge on when the po-po chase. If
they catch me barehanded, I'm done. Rip's gripping the six-shot pump, so spill it. Copper lettin' the lead off. Copper thought
that he had me cuffed. Little Layzie blew his head off. [Gunshot.] Get 'em up, and get up. The bullets--they start to get lit
up. #1 best start duckin' with a gun already buckin'. We split up. Bust a left on the double-glock and, where the fiends roll up
for rocks, and this perfect getaway from the pigs when I peel, and I hit the fences. Rippin' up the trenches. I'm bailin' while
they trailin'. Better in hell than in a cell, and ain't no tellin' where them coppers be dwellin'. One had spotted me, picked up a
piece and shot at me, but I practice what I preach, so see the two slugs up in his body. Got him! Run with smoke comin' from
the barrel of me gun. Hit the bend. Oh, what a dumb-dumb, I got yum-yummed on a dead end. They set in then they lead in.
They wanted me off in a coffin. Cops from everywhere was yellin' and wailin'. I went unconscious from the stompin'. Takin' a
loss, and wakin' up in that coffin. And without no stallin', cell I was tossed in to be arraigned at dawn. Me lookin' in the eyes
of a judge. He knew right where to put that thug--straight to the cell with no parole in the hole, where I won't budge. Sent me
to death row, watchin' the time by fly past, but Rip'll be sittin' mindless, never spineless, in silence, hopin' I die fast, but chill.
No doubt. Sleep on. Gotta get away, put that on all me reefer. Somehow must beat ya, so peep out the creep or the reaper
will meet ya.
Bailin' on a mission, flippin' the script, better check what the wind just blew in. Better think again. It's a preacher with a grin
on a mission for revenge with that MAC-10. Little nigga Rip [We'll...] had to empty the clip, [...kill] had to pump them slugs up
in to them cops, and he made them drop, glock went pop-pop, going out with my thug on the double-glock, back from Hell
and ready to bail, time to hit the trail, 'cause they wanted my nigga fried. Holdin' the Bible, when I got a grenade [Explosion.]
inside. The squad gettin' ready for the rumble, when I heard them mumbles, pullin' me gauge and laughter. Keep buckin' them
faster--all I was thinkin' when I seen them bustas scatter. Better watch out for them buckshots 'cause them can't fade me
gauge. Gotta bust some souls in their graves, so I'm buckin' him straight to the pave. Can't be safe. I'm buckin'. Little
Ripsta reinforcements comin' in fast and blast; gave my nigga, Double Zs, the MAC-10, lettin' that gun-gun blast on they ass.
Gotta rip in them chests through vests, MAC-10s, sawed-off eruptions. Got plenty ammunition, them missin', listen,
destruction. I'm bustin'. 'Cause I'm makin' that getaway, 'bout to getaway, niggas got to escape, and it's never too late, when
you dash and try to break, nigga, just can't test the Bone fate. We steadily runnin', duckin', comin' up to the front
door--barracaded, and I pulled a grenade. Tossed it to the door, let it explode, and we made it. Creepin' through the
courtyard, saw Krayzie--feelin' safety comin', hittin' the fence and jumpin' it quick, from Krayzie's TEC-9 bullets on me.
Elder thug 2 (Bizzy):
Well, it seems as if them boys, Bizzy and Little Layzie, done got theyselves into another jimmy.
Elder thug 3 (Layzie):
Well, I love to see them boys get theyselves outta this one.
Sit as I wait in the smug, rollin' real fast like a dog, and began with a rage, and the gauge can't let go. They done labeled my
nigga psychotic; bitches has got him sittin' on death row. Scopin' off the tower, peepin' the scene so when my niggas trail,
screamin' out, "one-eighty-seven," and bail. Gotta get my nigga, Rip, out the cell. It's all organized, how my nigga, #1,
disguised as the preacher won't be pullin' a bible mission for survival, nigga, so I creep the TEC-millimeter. Somebody done
pulled the alarm. Now, it's on. Slaughterin', Bone sprayed off the TEC, gotta let him know which way was on. We got gone,
but them holice was pullin' up quick. Nigga, what's up? Quick, bust in first. When you hit that fence, niggas get cut the fuck
up. We're steady buckin', steady duckin', buckin', while I was jumpin'. All we was thinkin' is, "Don't get caught." Nigga, like
me, get the gun, run and gunnin', frontin' with thugs. Gotta get to the smug, turn around and we pump slugs, put 'em in the mud,
and all across my face was, "I'd rather lay in blood." Dodgin', now who made (the gun blew with the swoop), bailin' back
home with my troops. I'm runnin' with four crazy niggas, that's down with they niggas, they ain't scared to shoot. Now we're
rollin', no more than a half a mile we get stopped. Cops surround Bone. We load glocks and squeeze, say, "fuck all these
roadblocks." Busted a 'U,' then put that bitch in reverse, and I get the switch, and I push the button. That boy came out the
trunk, and put it in drive. See that Souljah Boy buckin', back in the other direction. Po-po came quick, them heat up. Niggas
glanced at each other, opened up they doors, and they kicked they feet up. I jumped outta the car, had to jump over the hood,
'cause I'm headed straight for the woods. My niggas--they followed behind me. We getaway smooth, a nigga made good.
Came up quick to the hideout, waited 'til midnight 'til we ride out. Hid a car so we could drive out. While we waited, we all
got fried out, fool. If you's a thuggish-ruggish thug, nigga, [St. Clair . . .] scream, "Mo!" Took one of my niggas off death row,
now we got one mo' to go.
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