Sent Hell

Bone Thugs-N-Harmony

One, two, Bone is coming for you;

three, four, better lock the doors;

five, six, better load your clips;

seven, eight, we're gonna test your fate;

nine, ten, we're out to kill again.


Straight from the burning flames of Hell, a place where all assassins dwell,

put back on Earth to destroy all worshippers of peace. Body bags and

caskets, may all good cease. Together they form an organization much

stronger than the mafia.

First, Krayzie Bone, a.k.a., Leatherface the Sawed-off Gangsta.

Second, Layzie Bone, a.k.a., the Number One Assassin.

Third, Bizzy Bone, a.k.a., Rest In Peace.

Fourth, Wi$h Bone, a.k.a., Stratejacket, nigga!

Murda, murda, murda, murda.

[Backwards: Bone Enterpri$e--Hell Sent.]


Sold my soul to the Devil, but I changed my mind now I want it back, but he

won't cooperate, so now it's time to jack. Called RIP and Stratejacket.

Number One Assassin is fully strapped. We belled through Hell in khakis,

locs, and black skully caps. So Satan called his posse full of demons and

witches. We met up at the Abyss ready to slaughter the bitches, yo, but

wouldn't you know, Satan went out like a sucka, so I left a message in

blood, "To be continued, muthafucka."


Never prayin' at night, 'cause the Heavens don't want me. Sold my fuckin'

soul so I can live through Eternity. Killin' at night, and watchin' victims

in the daylight. A demon on the rise, and I'm snatchin' your fuckin' life.

Been shot with a twelve gauge. I died and made front page. The Devil sent

me back, and now I'm usin' the same gauge, killin' like a maniac, livin'

like a lunatic. Some would say the Strate is sick. The Devil's who you're

fuckin' with.

Murda, murda, murda, murda.

[Backwards: Bone Enterpri$e--Hell Sent.]


I'm corrupt and demented and I diminish by execution. A savage of torture,

should've been kept in a institution. Been shot in the head, I ain't

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