Shhh. Shut up, nigga. Shut the fuck up, nigga. Here they come. Here they come. Here they come, nigga. Duck down,
 nigga. Duck down. Duck down. [Dogs barking.] Shit.
 Cop:
 There they are.
 Bizzy:
 Shit. Come on, nigga. Come on.
 Cop:
 These assholes are nothin'.
 Bizzy:
 Nigga, run for it. Nigga make--
 Cop:
 Freeze, muthafucka!
 Bizzy:
 Shit.
 [Gunshot.]

 Bizzy:
 I'm little Ripsta. I'm . . .
 Krayzie:
 Leather Face comin' to kill 'em at night.
 Bizzy:
 Die. Die. Die.
 Krayzie:
 . . . so must we buck them studio thugstas. I'm . . .
 Bizzy:
 . . . willing and ready to ride.

 Krayzie:
 I pop pop droppin' them niggas with the glock gun. Nigga, you best start run, duckin' the shotgun, leavin' 'em up off my block
 stunned. One eighty seven lesson, and we done told ya. You fuckin' with Bone, you better believe we livin' like soldiers. We
 lovin' that thugsta shit, so nigga, just throw your pumps in the air. Then you pump pump, put one in a copper like ya just don't
 care. You don't wanna fuck with, you don't wanna buck with a realer nigga. Better check my manuscript: drugdealer, killa,
 cabbage peeler thug with the Ripsta. #1, with the gun, come come, get some. Senseless killa. Fifth dog and posse, run get
 gone. Fuck with the Bone, four niggas strong, leave 'em alone 'til it be on. Krayzie put on one in your dome, and, nigga be
 thinkin' I'm wrong, so go on. 'Cause nigga the sawed-off ain't full of shit. Me lovin' to smoke tweed and me weed, man. They
 givin' me what me need, man, when I light my blunt, fold the niggas up in me hood, so when we smoke, smoke, smoke, get
 paid good, so we gonna blaze good. So come to the Land where all the thugs be real. Them St. Clair niggas--they ain't no
 joke, so catch a slug or chill, nigga.

 Bizzy:
 I'm little Ripsta. I'm . . .
 Krayzie:
 Leather Face comin' to kill 'em at night.
 Bizzy:
 Die. Die. Die.
 Krayzie:
 . . . so must we buck them studio thugstas. I'm . . .
 Bizzy:
 . . . willing and ready to ride.

 Cop:
 Lie down with your hands behind your back. [Cocking of gun.]
 Bizzy:
 Naw, bitch, you lie your funk ass on the ground.
 Reporter:
 The seemingly routine investigation had become a horrible nightmare . . .
 [Commotion.]

 Bizzy:
 Runnin' with gats and bats, so, nigga, don't test Rest or you get a peeled cap. Pap. Pap. That pump, better check that gun,
 'fore a nigga done get that skull cracked. Lil' Rip (didn't wanna), the bigger the nigga the quicker get showed up. Let's swerve
 to the burbs, set up a hold up, so many bodies me blowed up. Nuts, bucks, and guts, nigga mistakin' they balls for dogs. All
 niggas'll get mauled, no thang to pick up a pump and (...?...) know ya, and never hold ya especially when them rolls up. Bet I
 bringin' in them guns, run, a thug get low down. You don't wanna get nutted, 'cause nigga you gonna get bloody [bloody] once
 you see the braids and skully. Cuttin' that throat when I'm rippin' up somethin' lovely. What is it in ya, deep in the dead? And
 we get fried. P.O.D.'d when I comes to ride, creep, but you sleep, and then fall in the night, once inside forgettin' about
 remorse. Your curse will ride. Cry now when you're ready to lie down. When I'm weak in a mental state, somebody gonna
 die, now.

 Meanwhile, swerve to the burbs.

 Witness:
 Man, he just--. He all of a sudden, just jumped out of a window. I didn't know what was goin' on. I'm just walkin' by. Just
 got a bottle of wine. I was just walkin' by, and all I seen was him jump when that lady yelled. [That was it.] I don't know
 what happened.
 Witness 2:
 Well, I saw his wife begging him, and she said, "Don't jump." And he did.
 [Whistle.]
 Reporter 2:
 Did you know the guy?
 Witness 3:
 He sure had a problem. That's all I could tell ya.
 Witness 4:
 All I seen was them put the lady in a police care and take her. I guess it was his wife