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brotha lynch hung

"Coathanga Strangla" (2011)

Look It's A Dead Body Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

Look! It's a body!
That's what I do

[Verse 1]
Leaving grease is pieces
My thesis, bitch give me something to eat with
A brand new recipe anatomy deep dish
Chk, chk, cha, anatomy deep dish

I'm so tired of this shit, my life's like
My life's like nigga I'm twisted, the nice guy
Always getting stiffed it and if this shit don’t change
I'ma get those brains and I'ma get those brains and brisk it
And mix it, sick shit started the sickness
Now bitches and niggas think I'm soft like biscuits
But it gets hard like bitches nipples
My shit goes hard room, feet in the toilet, won't flush
Niggas think they fucking with Lynch, nigga don’t hush
Got a nigga's guts looking like wants crushing it
If your house was a bitch nigga I’d run it up in your stuff
Niggas think I'm nuts cause I kill and bust nuts
I’ll be off the X not even knowing what’s what
Rivals get cut up
I can’t smoke so I'm murdering for fun
And that shit’s fucked up

[Chorus]
Look it’s a dead body over here
Blood all over the place like motor steel
Niggas ain’t fucking with Lynch
You know the deal
I eat ‘em when I am done with ‘em, nigga
That’s overkill

[Verse 2]
Leaving grease is pieces
My thesis, bitch give me something to eat with
A brand new recipe anatomy deep dish
Chk, chk, cha, anatomy deep dish

I might kill her for nothing while I'm nuttin
After they dead I'm fucking, aight
Spit so nasty my teeth don’t look right
Fucking dead bodies at night
I'm just sick in the head, getting the bread
MC's getting the blade instead of the lead
This time I'm keeping the brains instead of the head
This crime is hitting the news instead of the feds
Y'all niggas bust like fags, got 'em in Ed
Have your whole family looking outta the red
Have the hoes panties drippin, I'm straight trippin
Light blue sic ?? but with the paint still dripping
24 street block throw it up daily
Still having abortions nigga
I don’t need babies
And I don’t eat babies
I'm sicker than the rabies
Still hella mad cause I didn’t sign with Shady
Records, but I'm strange now, snake and the bat
Nigga, sickest independent on the map, nigga back nigga
Gat it like that nigga
Wanna see a dead body? This is where it’s at nigga

[Chorus]
Look it’s a dead body over here
Blood all over the place like motor steel
Niggas ain’t fucking with Lynch
You know the deal
I eat ‘em when I am done with ‘em, nigga
That’s overkill

[Therapist]
That's not what you told me
I read in the paper the other day that you were eating people again
Taking their skin and cooking them
And then devouring them
Then devouring them...

[Verse 3]
Leaving grease is pieces
My thesis, give me something to eat with
A brand new recipe anatomy deep dish
Chk, chk, deep dish

I know this is different, different
A lot of people tell me I'm gifted, bitches!
Tired of gettin' cheated, fuck this shit
Shit gets worse, I'ma rent me a hearse
Leave a nigga's balls in his girlfriend's purse
Bad news is you’ll never see where he lurks
You don’t even hurks, waterfall dripping out the skirts
When it comes to rapping I am Captain Kirk
Higher that the spaceship
So I wrote the album
Niggas try to put me in the middle like Malcolm
YouTube sick TV, you see the outcome
Lock 'em with a machete and I won't leave 'em without one

[Chorus]
Look it’s a dead body over here
Blood all over the place like motor steel
Niggas ain’t fucking with Lynch
You know the deal
I eat ‘em when I am done with ‘em, nigga
That’s overkill

I C U Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Tech N9Ne)

[Chorus: x4]
Nigga I see you,
Creepin up in yo house,
Black mac in the backpack I caught ya sleepin on the couch

[Brotha Lynch:]
Nigga I see you,
But you don't see me I'm leavin up out ya house,
You was all tied up and watchin me dig out ya spouse,
First I'm a choke her out and fuck her while shes dead,
Ejaculatory on the face and then take off the head,
What am I bout to do wichu?,
First take off the legs,
Then I'm a pull out the lead and put it to ya head,
Then I'm a cut the nuts and put the spatula up ya butt,
Then I'm a cut the guts and make that recipe nigga nut,
You bout to have to give it up,
Then face it member that masked shit on my facebook,
Walkin roun the house like jason lookin for sum to cut,
I wanna eat sum guts,
And all this shit is happenin cause I never have good luck,
And I run up in ya house gun up in ya mouth,
I don't really give a fuck I think I'm turnin to a nut,
And if I have to do it fine, with me it's do or die,
Ain no getaway you can try with them black locs ova my eyes,

[Chorus x4]

[Brotha Lynch:]
Nigga I see you!,
But you can't see me I swear to fuckin gardennss,
24 blocc dem niggas know who da hardest-regardless,
I don't have to prove shit,
I just slit ya throat retarded,
I don't have to do shit,
Wait for the new shit who start it?
I'm a bout to end it I'm a givem a necklace,
My neck rips with a chainsaw,
Even ya brain drops,
Play me da game drop,
Gimme da ar-15,
My shits clean- brand spankin new,
Tummy achin- money makin,
Eatin em up in the mornin with eggs n bacon,
They mistakin they don't wanna fuck,
With da sicko pyscho,
Get to faded- here goes michael spacin data,
I get high brick potatoes,
Ate tomatoes,
They go freako,
Ego n legos nigga spit this shit like a volcanoe,
I'm a go way low givin out them haloes,
Pay goes wat about them hagos?
Ayo givin out them k-o's
Sent it to the house,
To they spouse,
Trippin I'm out here krippin,
Fuckin around get kreepin again.

[Chorus x4]

[Tech N9Ne:]
I just found out they owe 800 thousand somethin,
So we funkin tecnina bout to get to dumpin,
Turn this lump into a pumpkin when they munchin at a luncheon,
We go thump to get it jumpin,
Then abolish all his loved ones,
Till the lump some comes in functions,
I just payed 65 thow out to get loose,
From the clutches of music,
Fuckas nothin but a cookaracha,
You say I got to use a gun to stop ya?
Produce the knockas the block the stoppas like choopacobra,
You poppin u's with a little agua,
No use of usin ala acabala,
You got the few dollas that go to momma,
So what do you think that mean?
I'm a comin to get that green,
Up in the crib and you ain't on the scene,
Cough it up befo I ring dat [gunshot]
He thinkin I forgot about how he flew,
Away with all the pay and hoes from my people he too,
Gonna take a leap and seek you,
For all the evil shit yee do,
Ya skeet with cheese and cheat for greed,
The beast with me will freeze for me and you...

[Chorus x4]

Takin' Online Orders Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Tech N9ne)

GRRR

It's another murder after the fact
Twist a motha fuckas hat to the back
Sicka then rat poisenin'
I BLLLAT them niggas hit in the back back bllat bllat bllat
He gonna feel it I'm bout to peel his bananna real quick
Spit the sickness get cha dick split witness
Sicka dis shit business
I'm a put him on a hit list
Teach him about the season of da sikkness
Six six sick shit
Kreep in ya house put a gun in ya mouth
An I'm unda the house HIDIN'
Bodies unda the couch and I ain't comin out I'm goin out dyin',
Try em undeniable I don't know I just fry em though
I come,
Hard on the face
Probly cause I don't like em
I'm a OG viking
Kris karter
I spit harder
I get farther
Put it in the butt
His daughter
Spit a nigga nut

[Chorus: x2]
Cause I'm takin online orders

Put a body up in the trunk
Now ya stuck in a rut
Get it rough in the butt
While I'm puffin the blunt
Get it up in the gut put em up in the cut
I'm a stick em an rip em
I'm dippin em in hot sauce
Legs n arms a little bit of agent orange hot tata's
Hot totties I rot bodies
Tune in they ass
Talk naughty
Broom in they ass
I probly fuck em til they get blue in the ass
Got robberies
Bloody bodies
Niggas nuts in ya hot coffee
Mutha fuckas betta get off me
I will slit em in they neck ever so softly
Watch me
Anybody wanna come fuck with em come face em
I'll be in camp crystal lake like jason waitin
Take em an rape em then I cut em up
Bake em an ate them I throw em up
Shit em out
You gon' forget about em
You gotta live without em
An I'm out

[Chorus: x2]
Cause I'm takin online orders

[Tech N9ne:]
Nigga ya gotta be willin to give me ya soul
I don't be takin the minimal gotta be whole
Look at the stranger get with the strangler
Give em a liver a pig and a stick in a bowl
I'm comin a oven
I'm puttin em off a nigga be lovin to eat bitch up then I throw it up in the camode
BLEGH!
Nina be lookin to get with another cause the nigga within him is cold
I cannot contain what is insane within this brain nigga
Neva was a mundane but I was in pain fuck it then came liquor
How did I become bain put enough strain now the lust rains
With a snuff frame killa rippin motha fuckas up I open em the puss came quicker
Hotel motel
I don't give a fuck I'm pickin bitches up I make her lick it up
I'm bustin ghannareah nut until her throat swell
Better let go of my coattail
I'm gonna propel into more hell
Takin online orders from my cerabellum you can get it wholesale

album: "Dinner And A Movie" (2010)

Colostomy Bag Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. C-Lim & G-Macc)

Dinner and a Movie
I'm Bacc Nigga
That's what it is

[Verse 1]
Yeah I might as well get wet
Give me a Newport I'm a little strange now
On fire like a human torch
Just get warmed up
Aint nobody can fucc wit me even luccily
Get cut in three I'm a fuccin beast I tucc the three
Fifty-seven and keep me revin'
Mr. Tech Ryhme, pure white cocaine spit not even stepped on
Sort of like blue magic
The pussy i stab at it
And stab at it, I'm an addict it bleeds when I tap it
Manic Depressive
And if you test'em
Mann is the lesson
Plan it get your chest split
Dance smith and weston and it will test'em
Hand it to Kevin
Cannibal session
Man full of intestine
Kansas is wit me
Strange Music is wit'em I think they breath littlely
I still see sicc'em
From long distance for instance
I get wit'em I spit sicc shit
Sniffin' cocaine

[Chorus]
[G-Macc]
Coathanger
Throatsta Strangler
Your folks get mangled up
Cut'em up from the navel (uhhhhh)
[C-Lim]
Put you in the hospital fast
Have you wearin' a oxygen mask
Wit the doctors in the surgey
Gettin in a Colostomy Bag [X2]

[Verse 2]
My whole cigarette is wet
I'm about to smoke it
Get hard like East Oakland
Rappers I super soak'em
After the kruger get over'em
I be standin over'em wit nine milimeter
Hit'em like a wide reciver
Like Jerry Rice
Them niggaz think I'm weak cuz I'm very nice
All I do is think about eatin them every night
So I got to carry every knife,every machete
I'm steadily deadily it's heavily bevely gettin' cut up
I'll be a the motel fucced up
Blood in my cup witta fine bitch hugged up
'Til my heart get plugged up
I'm still going to be in my Dickies shit thugged up
Nigga throwin up blood throwin up guts nigga whats what
We kind of strange nigga we eat nigga nuts and guts
You already know what I eat your insides
And break down your enzymes
And take out your insides
Sniffin' Cocaine

[Chorus]
[G-Macc]
Coathanger
Throatsta Strangler
Your folks get mangled up
Cut'em up from the navel (uhhhhh)
[C-Lim]
Put you in the hospital fast
Have you wearin' a oxygen mask
Wit the doctors in the surgey
Gettin in a Colostomy Bag [X2]

[Verse 3:]
I need a cigarette I cut a nigga neck
And watch the blood drip out
Hit him witta tech
Just like them niggaz watta fucc my bitch let'em sweat
She smile at you and cut your mothafuccin' neck
I hang a nigga and strangle niggaz wit barb-wire
It's little strange listebn to what i desire
I put the tools in they nuts twist wit the pliers
I'm a hot rod you a hot dog like Oscar Meyer
I drop logs nigga shittin' like dirrahea
You get the bucther knife too the eyes if you try to see him
Either that or my bitch see you right at the club
Put the whop de wop in your mug and your graves dug
I got it made cuz makin Strange Music to lisen and dissin you
Cuz that how strange do it (do it)
We sicca then hard liquor which ya'll it's know thang
Coathanga Strangla spitin the cocaine nigga

[Chorus]
[G-Macc]
Coathanger
Throatsta Strangler
Your folks get mangled up
Cut'em up from the navel (uhhhhh)
[C-Lim]
Put you in the hospital fast
Have you wearin' a oxygen mask
Wit the doctors in the surgey
Gettin in a Colostomy Bag [X2]

D.O.A. Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. First Degree The D.E.)

Mr. Mann-A-bal Lector
It's all over the news right now
You couldn't have missed it
Do you have any idea what might of happened to them
Any idea at all
Everybody thinks you do
Not me, but lots of people do
Tell me what happened
(He died a violent death)

[Hook]
He won't have a head no mo'
He won't have no bread no mo'
I won't have to get fed no mo'
He's D.O.A. (Dinner on Arrival) bitch
Give him an-enem-o-vemom
And send em their endin'
10 of the minutes the minimum
I eat 10 of em
Tick-Tock on the clock taccin out many men
He's D.O.A. (Dinner on Arrival) [X2]

[Verse 1]
I don't do it to get famous
Sumthin' bout the brainless aimless
Body wit the stainless
Imma be in the 6-4.
a Schizo talkin other language
Yo' maine which your brain split
Imma commit the hit flow
Til the shit blow
This the foe
Gangin and banging
Lie in the playpen
Wit the stainless
Put his brain in my apron
Then I'm escapin
Staple his legs
When I get the OK
I'm tapin his legs
When I get to door
Breakin his legs
Want a omlet
Better be breakfast and eggs
Ducc from the bomb hit
They finn' to pay
Smoke when the bomb lift
They goin finn' pass it
Or they get the acid
I'm bakin' that ass quicc
Rapin that ass quicc
Ryhme sound like I be takin' acid

[Hook X2]

Maybe the reason your so paranoid
Is cause you smoke you much fuccin' marijuana
Wouldn't you think?

[Verse 2]
I don't know
I just spit that shit
Like i do coke (you do coke)
I do hope
You get this shit quicc
Cuz Spidy's broke (Spidy's broke)
I do choke
Got that shit that rip chinese dope
I do loc
I got crip shit in me like tiny loc
I ain't actin'
My nine milimeter make niggaz do baccflips
Get with them minimum practice
Just hit them witta little gymnastics
My heat is plastic
I beat the bastard
I eat that ass quicc for dinner
the winner gets the meat
and I don't have to be the nigga that spits the fastest
Mr.NASA A-S-A-P give me my cashes
Mummahed Ali niggaz swoopin there ass's
Grizlock be beatin their asses
I leak mollasses couldn't see me after 24 karats of glasses
you ain't the only one who gots goons
Shit that'o bloody up rooms
Rips that'o bloody up shoes
pop the 64 pop the pistols
And I can get close enough
To hit those rocc to split those
you talk the good talk so walk the good walk
get up and lets go
this the Mister piston niston sicc as this is
Get your kids quicc take'em and rape'em
This the siccness take'em and bake'em

[Hook X2]

It's quite obvious that people are addicted to your siccness
they all seem to be emulating you
perhaps you should do something about that

[Verse 3]
I just know
niggaz couldn't see me witta telescope (see me witta telescope)
I just hope
you tell'em Lynch Hung come so tell us hoe
Tell us Hoe
I got thicc big bitch so smell this dope
I mean sniff this coke
Its the rip vic shit drip out his nose
I don't need this
I carry a machete and I rip the cleveage
I carry 'em and bury 'em I'm leavin 'em deep six
Marin' and nall bearin' when I grind the teeth grip
I prefer a deep dish Imma be hidin behind 'em witta meat clever
momma be cryin I'm fryin wit tha heat seeker
Probably be tryin' comin' wit the heat seek shit
Peter Parker AKA Coat Hanga Strangla
They may pray but the Lynch is hangin'em
After she dead Lynch Hung is bangin' guts STRANGE
Ain't no tamin' us
We get your brains and veins and bringin' them wit us
Getta tat and bang it wit us
One thang we insane and bring'en it up
My tongue hangin when I'm aimin' aimin' at the guts
Nigga loc to da brain all wraped in one
hot dog ass niggaz get wrap in the bun
tongue slit neck brains' hangin' wit Hung
the real siccness is bacc so get it and run
Imma get this shit and attack when I aim at his done
Imma get this shit and pack when I aim at his done
Siccness get your dick split

[Hook X2]

I can't control my own mind (my own mind)
(Is that so)
my mind It's uncontrolable
(Well just keep coming bacc and we'll figure it out)
So many answers I can give you
(but worry to much)
So many answers I can give you
(all right i'll see you tommorrow)
[Laughs]

Sit In That Corner Bitch! Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

[Verse 1:]
Razorblade to nipples, baby breastfeed me
I just saw your face on the TV and they already think you're laying six feet deep
Took a nap, now they on the news talking 'bout how they want the nigga back
I gave her back to 'em, but not before I took a bat, bashed her in the head
Baved it, plated it and smashed in the shev back to the hideout
Shit, I took a machete and dot her fucking eyes out
Now I'm on the internet, motherfucker why not?
MySpace is my place; pick her up and tie knots
Got her on the bed playing dead, fuck it then I took her to the bathtub
And made her bloody red, no matter what he said
Nigga he's the ripper, I saw him slice a nigga's dick up
And cut a nigga's bitch up, put her in the trash bag and that's that
He's on Facebook, she's in the space look

[Chorus:]
Sit in that fucking corner bitch!
(My motherfucking razorblade)
(Hey, I'm telling you bitch, you better take me serious)
Sit in that corner bitch!
(Remember when you got that computer for Christmas?)
(Yeah that's why you're here)
Sit in that fucking corner bitch
[? ]
Sit in that corner bitch
(Now I'm about to cut you, and eat you and heat you and beat you bitch)

[Verse 2:]
She asked me for a cigarette, here you go bitch back
First pull out your titties and I promise I can get you wet
After I slit your neck, I keep 'em brainwashed, cut open the score
Cold while they get their brains washed
I'm in the kitchen with a vivigar ripping your bitches spliffining
And bitchin to get you to split the guts
Outta my mouth, I'm a get that outta my house
By cooking it and eating it and shitting it out
I can do mc, he won't find shit all in the couch
Shit in the bathroom and shit in the mouth
And razorblades and alcohol, shit in the pouch
Like 50 bitches on periods, I'm serious now
It's about to take 3 hours like hand paws
Trust me I'm tryna get all them kids in the damn dog
I don't want ransom I'm sicker than Charles Manson, Ansem
Like Chuckie I'm cutting your butt cheeks

[Chorus:]
Sit in that fucking corner bitch!
Sit in that corner bitch!
Sit in that fucking corner bitch!
Sit in that corner bitch!

Murder Over Hard Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. G-Macc, BZO)

[Intro]
I just got off the phone with DJ Kat
(Roberto, let's do it!)

[Chorus (x2)]
It was murder over hard, like I like my eggs
Eat 'em up, she don't need no motherfuckin' grave
We in love, me and murder, we tight like vice grips
She don't know the raw, I like my murder over hard

[Verse 1]
Yeah, I got some different, I'm grippin' the samurai
I'll be damned if I spit at your bitch and I am denied
I'm John Allen Muhammad, my son is John Malvo
Snipin' at you rappers and there ain't no need for I.V.
Or I.D. or poisonous ivy, nigga, try me
Now so niggas'll bubble up like some fried meat
Now those niggas won't try me, I got a variety
They try to be, lie to me, tell me that nigga's tight as me
Like the type that eats meat, I'll eat and not eat, I like the raw meat
Pussy meat, push me, I'll put you right in the saw seat
I'll cut your head open, it's Spidey, he's off the opium
Scopin' 'em right out the trunk and I'm 'bout to open 'em
I don't really wanna cope with the "Lynch is fallin' off" shit
I'm puttin' bodies in bags and haulin' off shit
I'm in the lobby with magnifiers and y'all's kids
I'm 'bout to burn 'em, you better come out, y'all bitches

[Chorus (x2)]

[Verse 2: G-Macc]
Shit, real shit
What I talk about'll make you run out the house and kill shit
I've got famous from layin' 'em all out, sprayin' 'em all up
Like grave dig, put the shovel in the face and spin the corner
Long ride, jump out the doghouse with the cartoon nina
If we leave anything like she breathin', we eatin', leave clean-up
Mean muggin' to get your spleen tucked when I squeeze nina
Meat cuttin', the meat market, put your shot ?
Cock it to back, mean snub-nose out the front seat of the
He knows we killin' up shit like Vietnam and I'm leavin' 'em
Hangin' there, like puttin' seasoning, beats with a machine
Deep-freezin' 'em, cut 'em evenly in half after the meat is done
And I don't even need to finish this verse, y'all know I'm shit
Like potty training, I'ma be aimin' at targets hit
I mean, choppin' it up, cock it and lock it, like hot in the oven
Hot and ready, kidnapped in public (I like mine over easy)

[Chorus (x2)]

[Verse 3]
This is all I think about, this is all I talk about
Trust me, if I cut off his legs, then he won't be walkin' out
Sacramento king, I don't wanna get Adam Vinatieri on him
I just klack him with the thing, wrap 'em up and then have at a nigga's spleen
That's what happened on the scene (What happened?) Dinner and a
Took him to the dinin' room and I'm splittin' him up like Bobby and Whitney
Nobody gettin' him up, sippin' on a cup of blood, right out the wine glass
Sittin' by the fireplace with a nigga's brains in my plate
I'm as hard as they come, I make niggas hard
When I spit to bitches, they come right out they leotards
I clean it up with my tongue, I love to eat skin
I like them bitches you really could sink your teeth in
Somebody save me, I'm 'bout to go off the deep end
You think I'm strange now, just wait 'til this weekend
Invite her to dinner and stab it in her

[Chorus (x2)]

I Tried To Commit Suicide Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. G-Macc)

[Hook]
I tried to commit suicide
I had a gun in my mouth, and a tear in my eye
Where's my mothafuccin' daughter at
Thinkin' about the next place I can slaughter at
I know she wonder's where her father's at [X2]
I Tried to Commit......

[Verse 1]
Suicide I had alot on my mind
I couldn't figure nothin' out
And my momma just died it's just like
Damn everything was blowin' up in my mind
I couldn't determine what was wrong or right
I'm goin Madesicc (foe life)
I ain't the type to bitch, whine or moan
But now I'm in a werid place and I'm really missin' home
Naw metaphorically I'm really missin' home
I couldn't explain how much I'm really missin' home (I ain't gone)
I'm on some shit that'o get you locced up
Put in the trunk nigga let's life shits fucced up
I remember when I use to sit at home all alone in my room thinkin'
I'm hungry for food my momma screamin' in the front room
Drivin' me crazy I feel like jumpin' out the window
I'm itchin' like scabies cuz my minds tryin' to play me
And nobody cares, I might as well take this nine mili and die right here

[Hook]
I tried to commit suicide
I had a gun in my mouth, and a tear in my eye
Where's my mothafuccin' daughter at
Thinkin' about the next place I can slaughter at
I know she wonder's where her father's at [X2]
I tried to commit....

[Verse 2]
Life keep a gun
I'm always on the watch-out
Niggaz think I'm dumb
'Til I pull that glocc out
Leave a nigga numb
Somebody bring the cops out
Cuz his work day is done
Yeah, he had to clocc out
Yeah, I could be the blocc out
Niggaz really don't want that
Send'em on the plane wit that thang in his dark blacc
Plastic and as if I asked it, it came out
Couldn't trust a nigga so I mantain the same route
Why should I trust a nigga they think wit they penis
Then they wonder why there's friction between us
I'm tryin' to get to Venus suck and duck you mothafuckas
I could just of leave it and treat it like another supper
I could just eat it take it how it comes
When it's all said and done we ain't got to wait for reruns
I can't even see cuz in the rear view mirror
Hey, let me just get to this nine

[Hook]
I tried to commit suicide
I had a gun in my mouth, and a tear in my eye
Where's my mothafuccin' daughter at
Thinkin' about the next place I can slaughter at
I know she wonder's where her father's at [X2]
I tried to commit....

[Verse 3]
Hey my life been so fucc'd up
It's all on a bitch
Ever since i was 13 I wanted to be rich
Tried sellin' dope (Naw that didn't work out)
I was juccin' in the creek
I couldn't get my work-out
Too many niggaz was juccin' that brought the cops out
Yeah I went bacc to the Gardens and mom kept me locc'd out
Livin' in the regal think' sumthin' illegal
We know how it is when you workin' wit them eagles
Dope money pay for my EP
Tower Records put it out on ca-sign
And I had a sample of Knee Deep
Those days were good days these days are no good
Niggaz think I got a million probalby cuz I probably should
Sittin in this thigh-ass studio 'bout to change it
Reverse and rearrange it now I'm wit Strange bitch
This better work-out I'm tired of the same shit
So I put it in my mouth yeah, I'm goin' out

[Hook]
I tried to commit suicide
I had a gun in my mouth, and a tear in my eye
Where's my mothafuccin' daughter at
Thinkin' about the next place I can slaughter at
I know she wonder's where her father's at [X2]
I tried to commit....

Split Personality Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. G-Macc)

[BLH]
Say I got a split personality
The day time I'm cool Nite time

No electricity, no car payment
Make me just wanna to rape shit
Scrape shit off the concrete and eat it
Believe it I can get devious like Lil' Bro
Criminal call me the cream of crop of Sacramento though
Why do they want to get severed up to many mini meat lits
Why every time I get drunk and high can't trust a nigga like a secret
So I commence to make the meat rip that's all I ever think about
Bellpeppers and hot sauce high blood pressure shit
Tell Lecter I eat it raw damn near rare
This album suppose to make you wanna eat spare ribs
I don't never wanna spare his life
Fuccin' rape his wife razor blade the kife ya
Sever your wife up watch the knife cut ya picture it like nite time
I spit posion like a python, shit got to get the lights on
When the lights on human meats all over the room, blood all over the room
Siccle pysycho Siccle Cell Anemia just light up the ooze

[Chorus]
I don't wanna say shit
I just wanna rape shit
I just wanna flay bitches
Nite time day and nite
Nitetime AK shit
My other half sayin' don't do it
But at close range split your brain shit
1 (I can't speak don't) 2 (I can say it) [X2]

[BLH]
Friday the 13th my day to work meat
Butcher shoppin' for Halloween
Took it chop it pop it hollow tips
I don't wanna get to pushin' the issue
But this is who listen to sicc shit
I don't need to get him look at him cook him
Took at him some of the siccness
I be havin' them fits wit them bitches and niggaz
I sticcin' them wit ice piccs Split
Personality shit liquor kill'em up shit
Dose of that fill'em up
Niggas get heated up like gasoline
After i put that gasoline on em
transform em to liquid
Ima misfit cannabalistic
??

[Chorus]

I don't wanna argue I mean yes I wanna argue
I'm like no I don't wanna argue

Meat Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

Alarm clock, I hate alarm clocks*

Hey babe I gotta get up
Real shit ya'll

[Verse 1:]
I only got enough money for some hamburger meat
But I still ain't trippin that's the shit I like to eat
But my son he like daddy this is all we got to eat
I'm like son I'm about to sing big time
I'm downloadin' beats and I'm a start writin' to em
And if the fans don't buy em I'm a kill them in they sleep
Bring the extra cheese
We gonna eat somehow like the Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese
Gettin' dirty meats, make me some fuckn' stacks of G's
With the a-r automatic uzi machine
All you gota do is wash it off and then put it in the freeze
And then we good for another couple of weeks
When you get older like me you'll be tuckin the heat
And if not you, you'll be stuck in the street
I wanna say ya mom love you, but that's up to she
But we gonna do what we gotta do n that's get the meat
Strange music got my back they hopefully
But if not they really ain't no hope for me
That means you goin' through the same situation
That means we gone keep goin' through the same shit you hatin'

[Chorus:]
Meat, we gotta find something to eat
Even if we gotta go do it on the street
Even if we gotta go shootin' with the heat
Even if we lie to dude we gone get the meat, (meat, meat)

[Verse 2:]
I only got enough money for top ramen noodles
My son lookin' at me like he don't wanna come to close
He saw me in the bathroom cryin' it was to late
I couldn't even keep a straight face, like 2 face
All the mother fucka's around me they was to fake
I ain't got an album out now they call me to late
Bar b q yesterday, where the fuck was I at?
A football game where's my mother fuckin' hi at?
I remember lizz moore drive even after that
Starin at my strange chain, thinkin' ain't goin' back
I got a new life, I'm a get a new wife,
I'm a get a new 9, I think it was do time
No matter who's wrong or who right
Life's like shakin' 'em up n rollin' 2 dice
Thin slice, and my ol school homey like where you been ice
Just marinatin, stomach achein shit ain't been right

[Chorus]

[Background Vocals:]
Real shit ya'll... real shit ya'll... meat
Hey kev wake up, fadin off, meat [Fades Out:]
Yo kev wake up

[Verse 3:]
Lil Kevin wake up it's school time, get ya clothes on
Don't no body love you like me
We in the O zone, twilight zone
All we got to eat today is bullshit
Time for you to pray, but I don't pray I carry full clips
You can't be like me cause I'm a fuck up,
And if we both fuckn' up you gone be just like me
It's gone be a tight squeeze, we can get through this
You my 'lil nigga so nigga we gone do this
Shit, I can count it on one hand
Old as I am I can still cound it on one hand
We both Kevin mann
We both gotta stretch it out like a rubber band
I got another plan, I got a million of em
I'm a still come with em, I'm still run with em
We gotta keep it goin, then I'm done with it
That's it, I'm a whipe my hands
I'm hella broke but I don't dance

[Chorus]

Siccem! Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. First Degree The D.E. & G-Macc)

[Chorus - Brotha Lynch Hung]
Deuce click, siccem
Hahaha siccem
Ah stick up
Hahaha victim
Number two hundred and twenty four
Hahaha get 'em
Grr, siccem
Hahaha siccem

[Verse 1 - Brotha Lynch Hung]
They call me Mr. Sicca-love-a-kiss
Quick to yell out "fucc a bitch!"
Thinkin' nigga quick stuck 'em
With the situation I tuck a fifth
Ready to straight up cut the skin off
I'm a little off, see they lame, brains hang out
Insane gang stranged out
I'm sicc of this, I'ma get venomous
(?Insinamous?), step fangs hang out
Insane in the brained out, no thang stangs ever came out
Split your liver, you better get your kids, I'll break the house
With samurais, turn the whole family into eggs and chowder
I'm so crazy 'bout her, I call her my switchbitch
Stick it up in you, taking out your insides
Put the rest in the ditch quick
I'ma eat like Hannibal, cannibal, wild vill shit
Having a nigga bust melodies, yelling like Johnny Gillshit
I'm a new addition to Strange, we about to kill shit
Yeah we all sicc in the brain, no major record deal shit
Yeah, we all carry the thangs, plastic and steel shit
Put it up in your veins and find it nigga, we will siccem!

[Chorus - Brotha Lynch Hung]
Deuce click, siccem
Hahaha siccem
Ah stick up
Hahaha victim
Number two hundred and twenty four
Hahaha get 'em
Grr, siccem
Hahaha siccem

[Verse 2 - First Degree The DE]
That's to get lots of motza
Thats what we after
Tech N9ne for life bitch
??

[Chorus - Brotha Lynch Hung]
Deuce click, siccem
Hahaha siccem
Ah stick up
Hahaha victim
Number two hundred and twenty four
Hahaha get 'em
Grr, siccem
Hahaha siccem

[Verse 3 - G-Macc]
I can't welcome you to the nightmare
The nightmare is me
I put the knife right there
Most evil dream you ever seen
??

[Chorus - Brotha Lynch Hung]
Deuce click, siccem
Hahaha siccem
Ah stick up
Hahaha victim
Number two hundred and twenty four
Hahaha get 'em
Grr, siccem
Hahaha siccem

Don't Worry Momma, It's Just Bleeding Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

[Brotha Lynch Hung:]
Nigga I'm the siccest in the west, hit it in the chest, in a minute I'm rippin' nigga like wet sex.
Your sentimental I get the the riddle n' shoot Tecs cut a nigga in half just like a duplex.
Then all I ask is who's next take a nigga and give a nigga a suplex.
Coathangastrangla banging' the deuce set, choaintstrangla[? ] name it in two blex.
It's the season of the siccness time streets, hittin' the venomous IV fulla white weed.
And my nine get a tight squeeze, and I'm a die with my dick in a tight breezy.
Believe me I leadies, bodies are prolly gonna have my face on the TV.
I'm like Jason in 3D, who in the game wanna see me.
I'm at the motherfuckin' teepee plottin' and plannin' while I'm wipin' off D3.
Fifty-seven I makin' em go to heaven, one through seven I make em' go see the reverend.
In a casket, niggas get their ash ripped, razor blades and dildos nigga that's sicc.
Fuck around and get your hat split I'm on some tall cangee got my back shit.
It'll get venomous sendin' niggas at me, I keep a Russian AK in the back seat.
I get the guns from the back seat, Brotha Lynch Hung he got the hacksaw cause he love to hack meat.
Heat it, eat it, n' leave it I even leavin' em bleedin' and feedin' em and I'm a keep it that deep.
I stay hotter than the sack keep, one to the head then I smash like a track meet.

[Chorus: x2]
Don't get too comfortable (don't get to comfortable you might not stay might be leavin')
Don't worry mamma it's just bleedin' (things'll be fine if you just give it some time)

[Krizz Kaliko:]
Now they got me on some supa' dupa' sicc shit, so I'm a cut up and stab the beat like a slab of meat with slick shit.
Now now now I'm with the siccness and now I'm bludgulent with niggas cousins and it's so ridiclus[? ].
Jugganaut now I'm planted with the ramblin', I'm supa' cede six seven
Kill her with samplein', and two of my beef tits cause Kevin[? ] is a cannibal.
Add me into the A team and I now I'm Hannibal.
Mechanical woe by the go hard and damage you with it, roll with killers and I gotta feel with it.
I got a musket and a pint of musketeil, when they find you they be like what's the smell?
Take him took his top off, pacific[? ] and popped off and we off'd him.
And cost him he soft by my boss and I (hey) took the coat hanga from Lynch,
And I become the strangla of ya flinch leave her bleed quick.
[Tech N9NE]
Gimmie the choppa and I be hopped and ready to die let's go, with it I popped and I see you droppin' everyone in my retna.
Send me the docter that got the medical for death row for the nurses who purposely hurt mamma with TriLipono.
We told you motherfuckers that she was allergic he heard her slurred and her pancreatitis emerges.
Now I got you runnin' from curses and hearses, cause you like it certainly because you deserve it.
Two reminisces is pitiful thinkin' they can get with Mr. Formidable hospitin' your mental hospital the hospitable.
I'm not finished your thoughts are squashed dinner for harps your off limits and lost with chopped genitals.
I'm comin' to get you with thunder though, seeing you suffer gonna be wonderful.
Sick inside of me give you lobotomies time to undergo fuckin' with the ninna!

[Chorus: x2]
Don't get too comfortable (don't get to comfortable you might not stay might be leavin')
Don't worry mamma it's just bleedin' (things'll be fine if you just give it some time)

I Plotted (My Next Murder) Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

[Intro:]
I seperated myself from most homies
Cause my enemies started out to be close homies.
Hehehehehe
Yeah! Dinner and a Movie!
Go buy my album (that's a fact)!
Brotha Lynch Hung!

[Verse 1]
Yeah
I was sitting in a room with a pistol, schizo
Fist full of bullets and my grip stoked, I'm mad
They say my music ain't Strange enough
So I signed at the dotted line with strangest stuff
Now I'm back (I'm back), I'm bad like LL and ladies love me
But fuck 'em I make they bodies smell, I got a psycho bitch
She'll cut you well
Leave her in a trashcan, you better get my mail
I'm so serious, believe it
I'm furious from fuckin' them bitches
While they on their periods, I'm seasick
See, here's my brand new meat dish
intestins and bell peppers and onions
an salt my delicates, ya see
trick, I want you to want me
Then I turn around and put ya head in my humvee

[Chorus]
I plotted my next murder in the bedroom
Gripping on a pistol
Way too potent n' like sisco
Overdose
You ain't getting up in the morning
hit you over dinner and a movie
I'm schizo
I plotted my next murder in the bedroom
Gripping on a pistol
Way too potent n' like sisco
Overdose
You ain't waking up in the morning
hit you over dinner and a movie
I'm schizo

[Verse 2]
Somebody roll another motherfuckin' blunt
Other motherfuckers want
My siccness spit
Put it up in ya mother cunt
Put it up in ya daughter's butt
And just when that's happening
My psycho bitch is running up and she gone put a cap in em
Slashin' em, cut em half and butt it in that ass
And after the fact
I'ma keep coming with psycho shit
Murdering others like michael pitt
Matter of fact, liposuction
Gutt em up, cutt em up
My face is in the paper
all it said was “what a nut”
ya buttercup
You can't even get with me did I stutter, what?
Motherfucker, somebody shut him up
Before I plug him up, gun em up, when is enough?
Nigga, nuts and hamburger
It's just another damn murder.

[Chorus]
I plotted my next murder in the bedroom
Gripping on a pistol
Way too potent n' like sisco
Overdose
You ain't getting up in the morning
hit you over dinner and a movie
I'm schizo
I plotted my next murder in the bedroom
Gripping on a pistol
Way too potent n' like sisco
Overdose
You ain't waking up in the morning
hitt you over dinner and a movie
I'm schizo

Nutbagg Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. First Degree The D.E.)

[Chorus 1 - repeat]
I don’t give a fuck about what you think
I don’t give a fuck about what you feel
Drop that album I’ma too feel
Crack that yak bitch pop that pill
I rock that still, sit in a cage
I got a f type of crap, pop that steel
I pop that feel
Y’all motherfuckers is not that real
I’m a nutbagg

[Chorus 2 (plays over chorus 1)]
I don’t give a fuck about how you feel
About me, I kill for free, ever chill with me and
I don’t give a fuck about how you feel
About me, I kill for free, I’m still just me

[Verse 1]
I’ma gutbag em up, toe tag em
Kick like into the drag and don’t act em
Knife meat; put rat poison up in my I.V.
Try me, to crack niggas back to the crime scene
I’m a crime scene maker life taker,
Take em on a stage and rape em
No apron, I’ma scrape his face and face Satan
I’ma take his place and get a Jason
Mask, better be ready to duck fast,
Never be ready to face me I cut grass
Leave em dead I put three in the head
Then I feed him the dead and foresee to cut stab
I don’t need to flip it I spit sick, got syphalistic
Your bitch get lit, I’m telling you this
It’s the sickness shit, I’m smelling you this shit
You get twisted (grrr)
I’m in the rage, I didn’t get paid
Now my life's stuck in the cage
I stayed with the same block in the gage
My heart’s burning and I’m turning the page
Anybody that face me I get em flayed
Layed in the shade with a bag of ‘nades
I spit sicker than a bag of aids
'Bout to blow back up, so I have grenades (boom!)
Get sick’d of this, get a butcher knife
Slit your bitch’s wrists, now you took a life
And a 56 and a hooker like
Yo bitch is with me, tell her goodnight
I’m 51, 51, 50
Don't get the hong, lick
You gon' get licked, don't sit too rich
Lynch is gon' get it
Don't get with this quick
I spit liquid

[Chorus 1 - repeat]
I don’t give a fuck about what you think
I don’t give a fuck about what you feel
Drop that album I’ma too feel
Crack that yak bitch pop that pill
I rock that still, sit in a cage
I got a f type of crap, pop that steel
I pop that feel
Y’all motherfuckers is not that real
I’m a nutbagg

[Chorus 2 (plays over chorus 1)]
I don’t give a fuck about how you feel
About me, I kill for free, ever chill with me and
I don’t give a fuck about how you feel
About me, I kill for free, I’m still just me

[Verse 2]
I’ma put average niggas up in the attic
take they bitches and stab em up in the abdomen
Leaving bodies on medicine after new I'm havin you
For dinner and a movie after I stab at you
You got bit of the sickness, nigga haven’t you
It’s like cocaine so I don’t got an attitude
Badabim, badabum I’m in your room
And all I wanna do is sing another tune
Ring another tool, bring another hookie
Cut up, what up, shit nut up, with us
Get fucked up with us and don't fuck with us
Get cut up the butt, quick shut up your butt slit
Razorblades, today’s the day, cause you paved the way
For two day to get ate up
Shave his legs, and two pays get blazed up
Eat his brains and put flames in they guts
Emriel Lagassi, your posse
You don’t see what I see you’re not me
With this shit I’ma get my monoply
Not even a freight train can stop me
Not even a straight cane could rock me
Use weed to maintain a top speed
Low down, slow down with the fo’ pound, no now, you go now (you go now! grr!)
I’m in the rage, I didn’t get paid
Now my life's stuck in the cage
I stayed with the same block in the gage
My light's burning and I’m turning the page
Anybody that face me I get em flayed
Layed in the shade with a bag of ‘nades
I get sicker than a bag of aids
'Bout to blow back up, so I have grenades

[Chorus 1 - repeat]
I don’t give a fuck about what you think
I don’t give a fuck about what you feel
Drop that album I’ma too feel
Crack that yak bitch pop that pill
I rock that still, sit in a cage
I got a f type of crap, pop that steel
I pop that feel
Y’all motherfuckers is not that real
I’m a nutbagg

[Chorus 2 (plays over chorus 1)]
I don’t give a fuck about how you feel
About me, I kill for free, ever chill with me and
I don’t give a fuck about how you feel
About me, I kill for free, I’m still just me

I Hate When Niggaz Get On The Phone When They Around Me (Skit) Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

I hate when niggaz get on the phone when they around me
It ain't business shit
If it was business shit I could see what your saying
These niggaz get on the phone man, they make me feel alittle funny
ya'll know what I mean [x2]
You handled business when you get on the phone.....

I hate when niggaz get on the phone when they around me
I really get paraniod get the 50 pound piece
paper box in my soccs use it for ground beef
I know they plottin' so I don't go to town meetin's
They wanna hit me like Barry Bonds
They wanna get me in the baccseat and send me to my mom's
They wanna picc me up
they want the ambulance get me up
they think I don't know
I didn't sign up for this
Black Market got me in this twist and did a flip flop baccflip
But this is Crip hop that's it (cuz)
Just wipe your dicc off that's it
Yeah, just get your bitch off that's it
Just cuz your shit's soft that's it
I like to get off gat spit
I like to spit raw rap shit
I might get shit on baccward
Taccin it out on the wrong niggaz yeah, and that hurts (ouch)
So I have to let the gat squirt then disappear and that works

Just before we get into the last song
Shouts out to Strange Music for puttin' me on
Ya'll mean this weather out here is crazy (this crazy)

Anotha Killin' Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Snoop Dogg & Tha Dogg Pound)

[Intro]
It's me and Snoop Dogg, Kurupt and Daz, nigga
(Another killing)
It's another motherfucking killing, nigga
It's another killing
We had to put this together, (another killing)
Just had to be

[Snoop Dogg]
They layed one of my homies down; two of my enemies
I grab the heat and creep up the street and squeeze
I'm in your neighborhood, so what the fuck is up?
And if I catch you I'ma pop you, nigga that's whats up!
We can talk about it, no, i don't think so
And I'ma catch you when your creeping with that pink toe
You trying to creep up out that mink store, get you a drink
So when I hit you, you won't even trip to think so
Cross your heart, double dot your eyes
Yellow tape you, make you a homicide
Stretch you out like a red bind
Halloween, is your dead line, beddy bed time
I zag your zig, I put a fork in the pig
I cock the glock and pop you my nigga, you dig?
I open you up and leave you leaking by the face
And get away ain't got no time to be catching no case
Too slick to sly plus I'm too high
I'm too fly and I do die, I do die
I love to shoot an intruder, I mix the purp with the budda
Love tricking a beotch like the homeboy Luda'
Big Snoopy D-O-Dub, I'ma killa cuz
I'm draped up like a steela of gorilla (dub)
Sacramento knows, pedal to the floo'
Anotha killing for realer, nigga let it go

[Daz]
We on the corner a hundred (deep), blue rag the fuck up
And word on the street they got blast the fuck up
Now it's feuding and shooting and I'm running your life
I'm in it for the stripes, nigga don't fuck up tonight
Bandana, banana-clips, ready to trip
You niggas is assed out, see you better not trip
I see some buster ass niggas at the bus stop out of bound
We bang the gang bang them niggas from The Dogg Pound
Trap 'em rock 'em and stop 'em we mashing
Everytime we see you niggas we clashing
D.P.G down with 24th Street
Sickmade nigga down with them 21st g's
(Motherfucker) Brotha Lynch Hung my motherfucking nigga

[Kurupt]
Listen to me
One for the flame, and two for the trigga
And three of these hollow point teflons nigga
When I came in this motherfucker I had a plan
I'll sock all you motherfuckers where you stand
I'm gang banged out, riders on a mission
You can catch fades, nigga fuck the pistols
Piranhas is loose in the septic tank
We do what you can't, I am what you ain't
Don't even try to provoke me cuz
Looking, smoking, slipping, smoke me cuz
I'll beat your ass on the low so fast
Bang on your homies, spread through your hood
Release these toxins like mustard gas
Scrape the chevrolet, it's all to the good
My nigga Brotha Lynch, Kurupt, Snoop and Daz

[Brotha Lynch Hung]
Nigga this is G block, trust me
Dump on any nigga with the rusty old trusty
Sacramento yes, catch him in the chest
Right by his tour bus left a bloody mess, yes
Pupils none a cuddy left
Coathanga strangled him, aimed at him
He don't know what angle I'm coming from
Tangled him, spiderwebs all over his cranium
(That nigga has spiderwebs all over his cranium, nigga)
Me and Crooked I know, niggas be talking too much
Nigga shut your pie hole, everybody know you do suck
This ain't a reality show, hungry niggas do touch
Mothafuckas two clutch, giving niggas who cuss
I got an army of niggas I'm "Strange" it ain't a rumor
We giving niggas brain tumors, hit 'em with the Luger
I'm doing the rapping and this nigga is the shooter
'Yay got a mask on but nigga he's a shooter
You'll never see his face on a computer
Spiderman Jr. Oklahoma chewmer
Poke a hoe with two cuts
This motherfucker said he about to do what?
Get chewed up, its Dinner And A Mova' (Movie)
Deuce-Four, nigga

"Lynch By Inch: Suicide Note" (2003)

Spydie's Birth Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

Yeah, I'm in the dark on these niggas...
Okay

[Verse 1]
Maybe they don't know I'ma, O.E
You just a king cobra straight
No via satellite, it'd take more than a car battery to juice me
Killa appetite, never catch me actin' right
Smoke a two hundred sack a night, like an AK when I shoot these
Please believe I pack it right, produce rapid stripes(?)
They call me Randy Johnson, hundred and twenty miles an hour
...(?)
Nigga you must be off that powder, I'm Spiderman
Give me a blunt, pen, pad, and an hour, I'll make it shower
My taliban, Siccmade Muzicc we keep it heated like Nascar (guess what)
Plain and simple patna, fill up the clip and then blast ours
Ain't no rippin shit, it's all S-I-double C, you trouble me
I'm loco in the cabesa and I'm siccer than the rest-a
I'll blow your chest up, he need an ambulance
Two minutes left, he don't have a chance, not even half a chance
Leave him with feces all in his pants when we pick him up
I rip 'em up right out the dump truck 'cause I'm

[Chorus]
Spiderman, Spiderman, try'na see how much you know you can
He sports the tec's, any size
You playin' him close he might blow your mind
He's deep in the cut, heat all around
Tryin' to find him he's no where to be found
Okay, here comes the Spiderman
(Here comes the Spiderman...)

[Verse 2]
I'm like (?) snipers, I ain't try'na brag, but here
You need these numbers to this place that be makin' body bags
I'm the kamikaze magnum while I'm draggin' um
To the spot, gotta get the ...(?)
Like roast beef, nigga I ain't supposed to beef
But I love meat and I got Sacramento enemies, So I love heat
Got a sack of indo green leaves and I'm 'bout to twist it
So move with me nigga, quick shit patna, you 'bout to miss it
Now I don't smoke with them busted browns(?), I clutch the pounds
And if you fuck wid it I rub ya down
With seventeen rounds, crack the everclear now
Forever real now, spittin' at the whole crowd verbs and nouns
And no felonies so I pack somethin' heavy
I took the Chevy to the levy, two hundred and fifty pounds of red meat 'n feddy
You got it twisted up like crazy Eddie ...(?)
From two hundred and yards away I make ya head bleed steadily

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
Bet I could teach ya how to dissect your stomach muscles 'n eat 'em
These days that ain't shit, cut 'em and bleed 'em
I seen worse shit, fuck em and feed em bloody spaghetti
That Siccmade shit, cuddy get ready, bloody your Chevy interior quick
Muddy your driveway, that's what I say
Fuck it, you 'bout to die today
Got a chopper in the hideaway, don't make me use it
Off a half pipe(?) with the Ol' 8 English, don't make me lose it
I'm cry baby locc, that's it
I'm from the block where you learn at sixteen
to load glocks, pack clips and smoke pot
Slumpin' Tupac, 'Me Against The World' cuz it juice me
I got episodes and episodes like Ricky and Lucy
Drama shit, dead momma shit, don't give a fuck shit
Rough shit, shut you up in the back of the truck shit
Them gangsta bitches love this, they jack off to it
I'm Spiderman, bitch ass nigga I thought you knew this

[Chorus x2]

Spitz Network Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Cos, Yukmouth)

[Yukmouth:]
Yuk that project nigga, I was forced to hustle
I was forced to tussle drugs makin that coroner bubble,
Nigga back and forth to court in trouble
Cuffed by the task force in trouble
I won a Porsche on the double,
Pocket full of stones like Barney Rubble cursed by the devil
Birds on the level of a kingpin smirk on the bezel
I hit the hood inside my Esco-lade, make the ghetto say
Yuk so ghetto wid his ghetto ways
My ghetto pays, three and four bricks a day
Pop Cris and play, the hardest representin' the Bay
I fuck free puffin' trees inside me luxury way
Y'all ain't tellin' me shit I'm tryna fuck celebrity chicks
Yo rockin' a throwback seventy six, I got grand from eighty seven
Ya bitch nigga always said I'd be rich
The fans hit dead at the strip
I still get executive chips
Distribution deal executive shit
Yuk and Lynch what's better than this
Let the veterans spit
Infra red in the clip deaden ya lip
Ya bitch rappers better step shit up
Call me Texas Yuk, fuck a van I rock the Lexus truck
Wit the Smoke-A-Lot logo , uh oh
Get ya coastal on a promo
Yuk out of this world like Hans Solo
Rap-A-Lot mafioso cop birds from Acopolco
Real talk them not vocals
Fuck the cops and po-pos, headlocks and choke holds
They put me in again I pop the four-fours drop them homos
And learn that the glock is no joke
And learn that the Blocc is no joke
Slang rocks and snort coke, we cook kis like gumbo pots
We chop O-Z's to jumbo rocks, pay off Colombo cops
Beef with me the fo' won't stop
The gun expert let the tech burst the Spit Network

[Hook:]
It's the Spitz Network, the Spitz Network come on
The Spitz Network, the Spitz Network come on
The Spitz Network, the Spitz Network come on
The Spitz Network, the Spitz Network come on
The Spitz Network, the Spitz Network come on
The Spitz Network, the Spitz Network come on
The Spitz Network, the Spitz Network

[Brotha Lynch:]
call me the human gas nozzle, twenty four gallons a shell on you
Then I bail on you, somethin' smell on you you tell homie
I'm sicker than malt liquor wid the gin mix wid a fifth of brandy
And I'm hard like Chinese trigonometry you niggas can't understand me
When I, go to plan C and shift gears like a five point O
get clear, I'ma let one go, everybody get on the floor
I got that petrol, and my momma ain't around and I can't let go
And I'm bound to run up in a high school butt naked and let the techs go
Bound to give my otha two children and hit the retro
Catch me on a summer night, bleedin' ya sector
Eat 'em up like Hannible Lector leave blood on the walls
meat in my jaws, heat in my claws bleed up the walls
beat up your dog with these
Teflons and I'm so tired of bein' stepped on
And when I'm done with you niggas you'll be so tired of bein' crept on
In blue with my nigga, Yukmouth he in all red
I'll leave 'em all dead call me the hog head spit raw lead

[Hook]

[Cos:]
You see I hops outta somethin' bout as old as me
And then I drops off somethin' or I pops off somethin'
look 'all these hot dogs stuntin' I'm just playin' my part
Back streets back and forth,I like to stay in the dark
I pack heat that crack bubbles so just let the games start
Gimme a quarter, I got hustle I'll be ballin' by dark
So fuck the feds and the money, they just slowin' me down
Cause I be paranoid now when I be rollin' around
But I'm shark out the water call me deep sea rider
Hop out the lark wid four five and then I sneak three by ya
Before ya realise you aint hit my nigga Lynch beside ya
With the nozzle of his barrell stuffed an inch inside ya
Flood ya nostrils wid ya hollow we make ya bleed like hoes do
When we plug you wit revolvers, make you freeze like poles do
It ain't nothin' 'til ya partner's got the greasy nose too.
Holdin' his tummy for weeks at a time livin' like old dudes
Ya see down in the alley sippin' on old brew
It's the East levy road alley, strap up the old school
Nikes bout to confiscate paper like it was owed to me
You bitches hoes to me, you'll give the O's to me
These streets are gold to me, it's gettin' old to me
Now I drink straight out the bottle just like it's sold to me
Now I don't believe in tomorrow until it's shown to me
I put ya name on my hollows spit at ya homies

[Hook]

[Brotha Lynch:]
I'm bout to set it off like death scary scary,
Shoot up ya little house on the prarie
Eat out ya raw insides if ya dare me
Open up ya heart like a Christian be aware of me
Fixin' niggas like a hysterectomy, you won't get respect from me
Right up in ya chest wid these, heat up ya whole set wid these
T-O-E's cause I be offa these O-E's
Handin' out these nose bleeds like food stamps
I'm givin' niggas stomach cramps
You hear me and Yuk and C-O you start to panic
I'm a, manic depressant givin' motherfuckers chest lifts
choke niggas we the siccmade necklace
Better respect this before I
get to fuckin wid that wet shit and
dope get ya neck slit and
To the ninety sixty fo'
Drippin' blood off my hand G that's death
Without poverty jam straps in ya rib trust me
Better act right fuck a jack knife that night
Bullets'll hit ya crib shootin' through cushions in ya livin' room
You won't be livin' soon, it's goin' in 'em soon
from the asshole to ya womb nigga
Ya like that don't ya?, good, I'm right back dumpin
At that ass and I'm fast to flash
Cut you up like Grandmaster Flash
And I pass the ash, dumpin' lead toes at ya pad
And I bag the cash, you sit and wait for the Glad bags
and the aftermath, coroners come grab the bags and pack the truck
While I stack the bucks put you in the back of the truck nigga
That's what's up nigga

[Hook]

I Went From Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

Been a hard road
Still walking this walk you know
From over there to over here (still smokin')
And its nuthin'..

[Verse 1]
I went from selling dope to selling weed and CD's
And doing little dirt for my BG's for green leaves
I went from knee-deep, from stateline to stateline
I had to make mine so I wouldn't have to take mine
I went from playtime to robbin in the nighttime
I went from daytime to mobbin on the bayline
to Alcatraz it was taking chunks outta my ass still I
I went from empty to a full tank of gass
I went from filty to clean when my momma passed
I changed and went from doing good things to drama fast it's strange
I went from pain to gain I went from game to game
I went from grain to grain, and went from the past
to the present I went from artist to the president
CEO Siccmade musicc is my residence
I went from broke to fiendin' for dead presidents
I went from no hope to king its all evident

So everybody rise with me
Realise with me
You don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to Sicx when I spit this rhyme
Sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
I'm all up in the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

[Verse 2]
I went from hospitals to funerals to graveyards
From Hell's Kitchen like Mel Gibson in Braveheart
I went from they yard to my yard
I went from having light scars to bulletwounds tight cars and silverspoons
I went from the southside to the north to the eastside
I let the meat fry, stress from eating pork
I went from me ride to I ride
I went from livin it up to writing notes that talk suicide do or die
It's been a hard road I went from slamming cardoors to 6-4's to 2004's
I went from blued out in clothes to never booed out at shows
Who doubt the foe led toast
I went from homies to enemies I went from gold weed to indonese
I couldn't stop needing
I went through every season I went through to every reason for nothing
Plenty reasons to be touching the remedies

So everybody rise with me
Realise with me
You don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to Q-ball when I spit this rhyme
Sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
I'm all up in the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

I went from next to nothing to pressing button and black keys
from 15 to 23 walking the streets
from OE to no weed I'm paranoid
They all tell me they love me, it's all null and void
I play with toys, you know, shots to big Zo
I went from 40 to 0 just to get hydro
I went from him to him thats how the story goes
Tearing from limb to limb touching the 44's
I went from Sac to Chicago just to promote
200 dollars in my pocket looking hella broke
Did the show and made 15 g's
and don't you know I smoked 15 bleezies
I went from I don't got enough its nuthin
I went to damn I got it rough, where's the luck at?
I went from hell and back I went from ballin in black to smelling up the
back alleys with Maui Wowee, I been telling you that

Everybody rise with me
And realise with me
That you don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to Big Dan when I spit this rhyme
Sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
and I'm all up in the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time (you know it)
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

So everybody rise with me
And realise with me
You don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to E-Mill when I spit this rhyme
Sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
and I'm all up in the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

So everybody rise with me
And realise with me
That you don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to X-Raided when I spit this rhyme
I'm sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
and I'm all up in the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

So everybody rise with me
And realise with me
That you don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to Jam Master Jay when I spit this rhyme
I'm sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
and I'm all upon the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

So everybody rise with me
Realise with me
That you don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to Royal D when I spit this rhyme
and I'm sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
All up in the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

One mo' time everybody

Rise with me
Realise with me
You don't know whats on my mind
Shots out to No Love when I spit this rhyme
I'm sloppy off the X when I writ this rhyme
and I'm all upon the cut when I hit this dime
Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time
(Tomorrow's gonna be different I swear this time)

Watch out
(Hey you got the cigarette? - Thanks homie)
(Shots out to the homie A-Jay who's been down the whole album)
(Hey lets continue this shit -- into the next ??)

Watta Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Luni Coleone)

[Brotha Lynch]
I'm the hardest nigga you never heard of
And I'm a pro when it comes to these tools a four four
when it comes to these raw venemous spit send him his dick
In a wool shoe package, peel back his cap wid this automatic
Cold hefty and black shit I make a rapper disappear like magic
It's Siccmade, all the way to the motherfuckin' casket
And six feet deeper, get these heaters right off the lips
I stack chips and I, sip these litres on the hips
It's some shit that'll split ya wig
You can't spit enough shit, that'll get ya big
Get the gig, you pay him first then I'll lay him next
Niggaz be weak just like latex, cheap as Tampax
I walk through the room wid a handful of anthrax
Shakin' niggaz hands, makin' niggaz dance like
Paula Abdul when I pull out the tool
Ya kids get napped when I run out the school
Ya nig did that, it's the motherfuckin' Lynch
Take a long barrel four four and run up in ya bitch
Real shit, cause it turns me on and
What kind of shit do these nerds be on and
What kinda clips should I put in this chrome four
What kind loopty-loop ya on
Pass me the Newport and let's get it on like Marvin
I've been starvin' creep through the trees like Tarzan
Ya meat we carvin'

[Hook]
It's watta, watta, and ya know I'm thirsty
And even though it hurts me
I stay blood thirsty for watta, watta
Take it how you want nigga
So make it how you want nigga
[x2]

[Luni Coleone]
You punk niggaz want war we make shit happen
When it comes to the money drugs scrappin' and cappin'
I'm a veteran and I bet when I pull my thang
You hoe niggaz run faster than cut out segas
We some spiritual lyrical individuals nigga
I ain't fearin' no negro we leavin' bullet holes nigga
When a soldier bow down we leave him alone
Tape his tail to his ass cheek and send him on home
I'm a motherfucka nigga ain't you heard of Co-le
My music it use niggaz like a guard against Kobe
Hittin' hard like Shinobi, you niggaz don't know me
I throw 'em harder than Drew breathes
And shake 'em like police
I mean who tryna take it there let me know
We leave him cryin' like when a kid get a Nintendo
Coleone, I'm known to stay high as a kite
And shoot notes to X-Loc keep my cuz alright

[Hook]

[Brotha Lynch Hung]
While you be internet thuggin' I'll be in ya set muggin
You be in the bathroom tuggin' cause you can't get lovin'
I'll be in the last room pluggin' while you in the front room drippin'
I bust nuts on ya livin' you come in the back room kissing
So don't trip cause I'm harder than you
Just like every motherfucker that's a part of my crew
Gimme a carton full of Newports and a metal junt from the Midwest
And I'ma disappear and come back the sickest nigga you ever met
What happens next nigga, whatever happens
We pull techs nigga, whatevers crackin'
We pitbulls in a backyard full of poodles
And I'm foamin' at the mouth like Kuja
Put blood and guts in yo spaghetti noodles
I got problems in the head
Got ya lookin' for slugs, well it's probably in the bed
Got me lookin' for love all in the wrong places
I'm tasteless and I chew to the bone homie
Now, look at ya faces it's watt

Art Of War Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Cos)

[Lynch Talking]
Art of War nigga, (nigga get in)
The art of war, (I know where he at)
Dedicated to the niggaz
that feel they need to make a living off niggaz
You know, check it out

[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I smell pussy push me, I got a hard dick for killin'
Go head and start shit wid the villain
and get your heart split in a million pieces
You need Jesus I can tell by your releases please
He suck nuts for cheese somebody grease his knees
If you suck nuts for a livin' trust me at least it's these
Lynch haul all up in ya mouth tryna release the steam
And you can rub it on like Visine
And you can dub it all in high speed and watch that bitch nigga scream
And it's nothin' it's no thing I hit the corner
You was lucky and nosy nervous at the corner
I woulda grabbed the body stabbed the body
Then cut the body up like meat and eat 'em ganja leaves
Grab the shotty and get away got away scott clean
So you grab the body I'm in the Mozarotti
Smashin' down I street, all the way from the jail house
Gave it a chance and then I had to bail the hell out
Tight shit but I don't wanna go through that
Sittin' wid my celly like, how did I do that?
See I had to leave 'em blue black, the fool's back
Wid spits like jackler when ya runnin' wid two gats

[Hook: scratching of these lines]
"There's a war going on outside"
"The way of life is the way of death"
"Coming from the thirty six chambers"
[x2]

[Cos]
Seems like I can't mash these days
Cause everybody wanna try to blast C way
Like everybody wanna pass these days
But talk shit about my click we gon' blast these K's
These niggaz gay cats jay cats walkin' cross the street
When we see 'em I'm mashin' like we on a race track
These niggaz way wack, they knew that since way back
That's why when you gave me your shit it got no playback
You niggaz play rap, we be on that real tip
We in the Source mag, we gain the ill tip
And if y'all don't feel this, y'all must not feel shit
Don't buy that nigga album man he a real bitch
This nigga tryna make a dollar off my nig's shit
Don't talk shit to gain fame that's some ill shit
Come wid some real shit, and stop lyin'
Cause you ain't never shot nobody and copped a diamond nigga

[Hook]

[Brotha Lynch]
Slim love you well slim joke, you been broke
Soon as these Blocc niggaz find out ya M-O that's all she wrote
Cause Blocc niggaz don't fuck wid nut riders we rough riders
Glock 'til they call me the truck driver
I drive bodies down I-5 a, insane you's a damn shame
You don't sell a damn thang to hoes, here's ya damn fame nigga
See you's the same niiga that used to lick on the balls
And hum when I had 'em in ya jaws ask D-E
I wrap CD cases and put 'em on the shelf
I told you motherfuckas I'll gi' you a lil' help
Cause if I really had funk wid you, I wouldn't say shit
Just spray shit, come get you, ya done dizzle
All I gotta do is whistle and here comes the troops
Siccmade niggaz stompin' in steel toe boots
We get paid quicker I know it hurts but it's the truth
Pretty motherfucka I take out ya tooth
Either that or watch the Uzi shake out the roof
How you want it?, like Burger King I'm murderin' and his woman
Trust me, it get tough out here
Motherfuckers could end up in a trunk out here
Can you feel it?

[Hook]

Everywhere I Go Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. D-Dubb)

[Brotha Lynch Hung talking]
Yeah, you got a 'port?
(Yeah nigga)
You got a light?

[Verse 1]
Now I started smokin' Newports, ain't that a bitch
I got so stressed out, I think I'm 'bout to dig a ditch for me
old school homies, be actin' like a grinch towards me
reach out to the family but they ain't got nothin' for me
I knew it would come, the day all hell would break loose
feel like I'm in the movie, 2PAC when he was in "Juice"
I'm a outcast, straight outblast, cover the body fast and smash
Type of nigga totin' them triggas because I have to
On my mama this is Siccmade for Life, and in the future made sicc
I'm in the Hafway House off the peel gettin' lit
Thinkin' fuck my bitch, she thinkin' fuck me too
We been together so long, I don't know what to do
But get drunk everyday talkin' 'bout fuck it
I did all I can but I guess that wasn't the plan, you can have the bucket
I'ma take the 6-4, and if you really wanna know, Lose 1, gain 1
It's the same story everywhere I go

[Chorus x2: D-Dubb]
Everywhere I go, I see so much hypocrisy
It makes me be who I am
And it's clear nobody understands my mind and why I say things that I do
And they don't know all the things that I been through

[Verse 2]
See, I got empty OE bottles all over the place
So many rappers at the spot can't find no A-Dat space
And so many, snakes in my life I can't never be hungry
Snake meat till I die, you know we ain't real homies
It feels good to help niggaz come up, I don't need nothin' back
You do your thang, I'ma do my thang, I'ma remain in the cracks
and crevasses tryin', to get my fetti shit
higher than mountains, I stay lifted like Chevy lifts
And I been tryin' for years to build a family full of ridas
Dammit I'm tryin', niggaz take it for granted, they lyin'
If they say they don't take it for granted
Take they lil' fame and vanish, get they lil' name and manage
To make a few chips, homies in business is all useless
Take advantage, I'll leave ya toothless, the truth is
I'm not that good of a judge
I been turned on by the thug life and happened to plug, ya know
It's like

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3: D-Dubb]
To see first in two faces, seem to be all around me
Your own actions make me doubt you, cuz they tellin' me all about you
I can hear in what you say, don't go with your way
So I guess I'll stay away from the same ol' same
Stay focused and doin' my thang
My rillas, we stay rollin', reactin' on game that we knowin'
Ain't never no cars to be showin'
And my only problem is that I keep forgettin', we don't love anymore
While we always ignore, so it's like I said once before

[Chorus x2]

[Phone skit after end of song]
Ay what's up Lynch, this V
Get at ya boy mayne, you know I'm sayin' I need to use that camera mayne
So we can shoot that shit, holla at me when you get this message, aight
Peace, One Love and most definitely takin' over, SICCMADE

Death Dance Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

Til we run out the school, the school of hard knocks
That's real
Bout to show you somethin' new, don't worry about it
Uh-huh, yeah

[Verse 1]
Never had a life, never had a wife
I'd rather have a jack knife and creep through the night
See my mind ain't right, just ran out of my Prozac (damn)
This grind ain't right, I'm supposed to have fat stacks
Certain people in my life, they didn't have my back
It's hurtin' deep and I'm still fightin' to make a come up, you know what
So I put the gun up, and I picked up the mic
Then it all came out, it was a very bloody sight
It was a very dark night, (pull out the tool)
Do the death dance, I don't wanna see your hands
'til we (run out the school), school of hard knocks
We tote glocks and punch holes in 'em like polka dots, scopin' plots
It's nothin', I handle raps like I handle lacs
Plus I, I handle this like I handle that
I got skills in this battle rap, matter fact
You could meet me in the back, and we could spit shit like mini macs
How many times must I have to spit, patna?
And how many nines must I have to grip?
Cuz I rip shit like a ice pick and I hit up your block quick
And if you can't see it you must got glock-coma
I'm sicc in the head and I'm not sober

[Chorus x2]
Do the death dance, (C'mon)
Do the death dance, C'mon
I don't wanna see your hands
Do the death dance

[Verse 2]
See, I'm try'na do damage to your soil
Half you niggas can get your brains wrapped up, in some aluminum foil
I'm hard-boiled like John Woo, smoke bomb too
You must be off that dope and dog food, I can make it all cool
I've been stressed out, lookin' for the best route
Sendin' out death certificates, what's this all about?
I'ma be the next man to admit this, touch me if you wanna
I had a close relationship with straight gin and Mary J-uana
Crooked like every daytona, get that
Smash out out in a glass house, first one in, last one out
Put one in, take one out
I make you take a bath in cold water with heavy shoes (ooh)
I'm that fool that rips it up, them other fools bad news
It's cold blue and I can make your body cold too
He ain't the only one, we got heavy right out the Chevy
And it's a cold, cold medley, them other thangs is petty
Aight, everybody get ready

[Chorus x2]

Break Ya Loccs Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Suspicion)

[Lynch Talking]
About to leave the studio it's 9-11, 2002
Up in here wid my nigga C-O once again
Ya know what I'm sayin?
And the motherfuckin' bad news is
What? Suspicion is back
Ya know, here we go

[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I got that spit venom shit that'll wrinkle up ya denim shit
Fuck them niggaz they all hoes I run up in them quick
Turn 'em into statues, lead tattoos I stay
Twenty four deep and bring niggaz the bad news like
The Metro Section I spit petrol like gas nozzles
Bang wid my thangs nigga, you the last models
From the Garden to the creep module
I'm off the bottle makin' money like I won the lotto
You wanna follow wid ya tongue stickin' out ready to lick these nuts
Had a dream watchin' me get out the four door to get these guts
I spit flames, beat niggaz like Rick James get aim
Cause like Pac's attraction I grip thangs
And it's hard and cold it'll make ya heart a cold
I sweat so much I'm so hot, I'm hard to hold
And I'll tell you somethin' else fool Suspicion for life
Have you comin' home from work late, missin' ya wife
And ya kids and ya cribs tore up, I leave ya ribs tore up
Nuttin' else better I do, than cut up cold cuts
I'm a meat eatin', skin collector been connected
Wid some niggaz that'll cut you in the neck and leave you butt naked
Layin' dead in ya Lexus, what you doing?
Fryin' niggaz like they do out in Texas, Why?
Lyin' to niggaz cause they fakin' the love
You be the one takin' the slug
And you show me that you ain't got no love for me I'm done cuz

[Hook]
Niggaz that say they real fake as fuck
Have you left set up dead in a vacant lot
No matter what they can talk all that gangsta shit
If ya gangsta walk still ain't shit
I break ya loccs and run up in yo shit
[x2]

[Suspicion]
Look we roll shit blow shit, I been blue shit
Old shit new shit, keep it true shit
Always in a blue fit, and old school kicks
Posted where they move bricks if it was me quick
I sold shit stole shit, I had to move shit
Old shit new shit, to keep a few chips
Man my life wasn't nothin' sweet
At fifteen years old was livin' out on the street
With rocks between my teeth like where the fuck I'm gon' sleep
Grandmomma don't want me and I ain't seen dad for weeks
And momma ain't never been there for me
It's like she probably never cared to shed a tear for me
So now the whole world's like a glare to me
Through all these hard times can barely see prepared to leave
But I dare one of these cats wid no haps for they fame
This rap's for the tracks yeh they wack but they flames
Tryna dirty up my name, I leave 'em stained
Gunshots to middle of they brain, I leave 'em drained
Duck cops from here to the gate, I leave 'em dazed
Bust shots at all of them cops this shit be crazed
Cause fuck goin' back to that place I take the grave
Whether you see me go out ridin' or as a slave
Just look at how they got us, dealin' wid drama
Fuck it pour another shot of that Vodka load up the chopper

[Hook x2]

[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I'm young black shit wid mack shit
In the back shit make 'em do back flips
You must be off that crack shit
Fuckin' wid the tactics got spitz like a gat spit
And I'm gonna rip a nigga to bits for instance
I burn incense and think about shit
I don't need your ten cents juts break 'em right quick (then what?)
Shake 'em right quick (then what?), make 'em bite dick
You suck lug nuts ya love nuts I plug stuff, cut guts up
Ya tough luck punk, fuckin' wid flames around gas
Heat, enough heat to cook ya turkey fried deep like
Louisiana blow sacks like Santana might
Run up in ya spot with the dark blue bandana right
Wid banana clips takin' you out, run in ya house
Let the nine milli cum in ya mouth
Runnin' the South like Cash Money
I bang niggaz in the head you a crash dummy
I mash niggaz

[Hook x2]

Reachin' For Fame Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. CO, Tall Cann)

[Lynch Talking]
Yeh, yeh..
Back at that ass once again
Had to do it, bitch niggaz in the town
Ya know what I'm sayin'
I'ma tell 'em what I know
Know what I know

[Brotha Lynch Hung]
Word on the streets is don't quit ya day job
I own spots while you won't even get to own a spot
I'm unconcious sippin' on that sugary Saint I-des
Your raps need that Midas touch while mines rhymes
It's suicide fuckin' wit me, believe it
I'll tuck the fifty cal now cause some niggaz tried to get me
Split me in half like a joint bitch, I had it crackin'
Slugs went flyin' through ya window, nigga I'm the captain
You just rappin' to get by, might have to get to wrapped in a 6-5
Might have to get that truckin' and get locked
Nigga you taste good like sour cream and chives over potatoes
I'm a tornado, you just a puddle
A poodle talkin' shit 'bout to get one put in ya noodle
Biotch ya got the nuts to be attackin' back at me
My chap I'm strapped have the fifty pound metal in the back seat
And it's all legal, got me dumpin' at ya Regal wid the do dirty
Gotta get mine done no matter who hurt me
Every bitch I got I got the key to the spot
Better hide yo bitch before I get the key to your spot
Stand right over ya bed wid yo glock
Put one right in ya head ya whole cake
You ain't even gon' play my shit rock up just like cocaine
You a no name I'm preachin' you still reachin' for fame

[Tall Cann]
Same old shit but a different day
Back at these niggaz like boomerangs
Nigga wanna come around and do my thang
Bangin' these niggaz for the dead issues
Call the paramedics to get you
Not fuckin' wid me in this lifetime
Not thinkin' in my right mind
Like Mike Tyson when it's my time
Got these niggaz hollerin' woof
Baby you ain't hard as hundred proof
My fellow you just a nigga that won't fit in a puddle
Piece a shit, nut ridin' get your ass outta hidin'
Dip on 21st street ridin' there won't be a survivor
Yo ass ain't no McGuyver you done say the wrong thangs
The method that I got to give 'em bustin' out some teeth to say the less
You can save the rest for later
I mean I'm way to major like E-major nigga
You claimin' my game but you ain't nothin' but a hater
So when I pull out my tool scram
Ya riddled drain eggs and ham you in the fryin' pan
The way I reach out and snap a nigga like a rubber band
Oh no there goes another man tryna fuck wid the Siccmade fam
Uh, Uh again?, God damn

[CO]
These niggaz talk alot of shit but don't really know about C-O
That sneaky motherfucka hit ya ass like ya P-O
When ya least expect it with the cold Smith and Wesson
Have my bitch, set you up at the telly get you undressin'
Then it's lights camera action my pistol's blastin'
Ya night went from cashin' to missin' fractions
But shit do happen, so ya shoulda been ready
Instead of doin' all that yappin' shoulda copped you somethin' heavy
We deadly, like rattlesnake bites y'all the taddlin' type
Deal wit my pain and probably rattle ya life
So instead of worryin' about ours you need to see
What's the matter wit ya life?
What's the matter wit ya life boy, ya can't get it right?
What's the matter wit ya life boy, ya can't get a life?
Then spark it up this hitter does so ya can't get no ice
So now ya wanna hold a grudge wid, niggaz like us
Beause we move shit like drugs where y'all stayin' and cus
And talk about the same shit all day
And us we on the next page and after that the next page
So try again the next day if you can't fade us today
Practice makes perfect lil' guy stay in ya place

[Brotha Lynch]
I'm a Southside rider, funk provider
Leave you in the trunk tied up, punk ya lied to us
Just to tryna glock wid us get a piece of the pie wid us
We too O-G, I don't fuck wid them mics cuz
I'm diggy down it will take plots to get me now
And I got the fifty thou, wanna bet ya not get me pow
I'm the threat starter fire starter put a hole in ya Starter
And you couldn't find me cause it's time for departure
Tryna get ya CD's out, I know it start ya
Blame it on me I got heat, I leave ya scortched up
I'm on the porch and nuttin' up, Southside, keep locked
Where the G's knock niggaz out for fuckin' up, we tuck 'em up
Me and C-O and Tall Cann you can't fuck wid us
We somethin' rough you niggaz be punkin' up we got pumps and stuff
All up in the trunk and stuff we be waitin' for attack
Get me sprayin' on ya pack and now you layin' on ya back
You ain't payin' all ya rap taxes institute of malpractice
I put ya raps in a casket you half plastic
Patty mealed ass nigga put ya raps in the thrashbin
Ya clashin' wid the Burbank titan fasten ya seatbelts
I'm bout to make ya meat melt
That beer breath spittin' meat chunks at ya wig punk
I fear less rather hear less, you niggaz is tryna pay less
I make ya days less trippin' on the famous tryna get famous
Nigga please

[Tall Cann]
Ain't nobody fuckin' wit me, this side of the city
Northside gangsta ride turn you liars to sissies
You ain't bangin' shit so miss me wid ya bullshit comment
You know me, I worship drama that was a curse from my momma
So if you wanna bring it here boy
Northgate in El camino I'm right here boy
All day long all night strong we be runnin' the North
And I can have niggaz from your hood, run on ya porch
Ya little cowards keep the gun in ya shorts
We keep the blunts and the ports to blaze up
After ya spirit raise up you still
think you can rap you need to give them days up
It's gonna cost you ya cap takin' cheap shots at us
So cuz toss me the strap and put these streets on hush
Because they full of wack niggaz and they speak too much
And now we can't have that because we G too much
So I'ma end it on this fact nigga'll bleed too much
Ya keep talkin'

Bleeding House Mystery Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Zigg Zagg)

[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch]
Must be some leakage in my click, some niggas done ran up in my shit
Forced to use the fo-fifth, leavin 'em layin' in Ol 8 English piss
Got me all stressin' and sick, pickin' up bodies 'n draggin 'em, body baggin 'em
Try'na get it all done before the wagon come stashin' them
Aye put Scarface on the T.V, put the volume up to ten and a half
That way when the police come, Al Pacino bustin' caps
I got away with a killin', it was self defence
Had to rinse niggas off the hallway walls, send my hate out to all they dogs
Yellin' like a psycho when I pulled it
It was cuttin' every bullet plenty of full clips
Fuck em, feed em tef' tips
Got a tool kit, filled of kill em up shit
I be puttin' niggas on the ground wid it, fuck niggas who ain't down wid it
They can hit the back door, see I'ma handle this
I'm so scandalous, like a preacher to teach ya of this (?) shit
If I gotta trip, I'ma heat ya and eat ya
I swear I'm serious, herious, feriously hittin' chest plates
I hit them niggas up quick and have it all cleaned up by the next day

[Chorus: Brotha Lynch]
See I was shootin' through the hallway
Try'na hit everything in sight
Thinkin' in my mind I knew this shit could happen one night
Gotta hit that one right, when I hit that one left
And I'm in the room fillin' up the wycelf, quiet steps - Boom!
Muthafucka what'chu doin' here, don't you know I got kids?
Hold up, he ain't dead yet, one mo' to the ribs
Try'na get body parts to relatives, like nigga you don't get it?
I cut when I hit it, nigga nuts 'n guts ripped when I did it

[Verse 2: Zigg Zagg]
Night after night, I had another thought of destruction
Until this evening, couldn't believe it ran up in my home with the heat, buckin
My baby's watchin' it, front row seated, with the chrome to the (?) momma
No pain right now, but later on down the line with the head drama
Didn't expect this to happen to me but this evening was heated
When I walked outta the bedroom, witnessed 'em flash by deep and all black eye ...(?)
I mean five or six of 'em, strapped, with the nine-milla to my face
I (?) the hallway, backed up, and ran to the closet for the 12 gauge
What could I do right now beside let it all surface
Then come fuck up your shit on purpose, I got your whole system nervous
But you lied to me compulsive, hit me the hardest like explosives
into your underground Black Market recordin' shit, get focused
Dis Siccmade, can't nothin' possibly take that away
But if you make me mad, I get that rage
Inflict pain, then make arrangements
Labelled the most wanted, the most dangerous
Wake up out of a dead sleep, walkin' to the murder
Then flamed the rush

[Chorus x1]

[Verse 3: Brotha Lynch]
See now it's two weeks later, I had to cut like a cheese grater
Did in all black like a Raider and hit niggas up like a pager, red beam laser
My trust got all fucked up so now I'm watchin' the lights behind me
Tuckin' the metal stuff, try'na get that shit behind me
Testin' my ghetto luck, in the streets Zigg Zagg, my crimey
We lookin' for that prime meat
We lookin' for that man that plotted the crime to try to tie my
life span, splatter my pipe dream
Leave you stiff like a mic stand
Yeah I'm the Burbank titan, whether you likin' it or not
Grew up right out of 24th street, yeah some call it the block
And when they first hit the locks, see I was shot
All I saw was chrome and niggas in black ski masks, comin' in my home
They try'na take my money, they try'na get paid, so I don't blame 'em
But I wish I had the chopper to put the flame to 'em
But I didn't, just a hand pistol, same doin', bone gristle
Came to 'em, dumpin at shadows, and I was havin' shoot-out battles

[Chorus x2]

Get Bacc Time Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

(Damn nigga what you been doin'?)
I'm still walkin' this walk nigga
(Uh, heard that shit)
So watch out

[Verse 1]
See you know us nigga, we run up in ya house
Run up in ya room and put the gun up in ya mouth
Next thing you know, you just one up in a pouch
That's what you fuckin' wid when you come up in the South
I spit slugs, I be off them drugs kick it wid thug niggas
Plug niggas, with blood on the rug
Nigga we got gut splitters and shovels we gravediggers
Wid troublesome ways and we bubble some days and some days
We shovel ya grave and we wrinkle ya page
We got shooters on the team like the Lakers we post up
And then bake 'em wid the toaster
From long distance or close up
We send 'em heat rocks, put 'em up under the sheetrock
Cheap talk, makin' all the streets hot
With the heat from the glock
and I pop holes in ya Chevy block
And I pop those if ya ready or not get set go
Burn you with the petrol, wet those niggas wid cold showers
Crept on them niggas and they laid out wid gun powder
That's one route I'm full of them scams
Pull and advance through your livin' room window
Then I'm leavin' wid blood on my hands
I'm a nympho, murder ya kinfolks two to the temple
Lay 'em on the ground from the five pound it's that simple
You know me nigga, I stay up in the cut
Every chance I get I get way up in a slut
Every once in a while I gotta touch a nigga up
So I hit the bomb and split ya palm wid paper cuts
I'm a oven when it comes to this thuggin' I spit fire
Chop ya lil rhymes to bits, 'til I'm tired
of the ecstacy and 'yac and kool-aid nigga I'm wired
I'm a sicc nigga I rip out ya bottom teeth wid the pliers
And I'm tired, of the rumors I disconnect, the tuner
I hit ya neck wid the ruger and get respect this a shooter
And ya knew the, shit like this, fool you better back up
Tuck niggas up like buttercups somebody better get yo stuff

[Hook]
Cause it's get bacc time
Eye for an eye tooth for tooth
This ain't just no rhyme
Somebody gotta die and that's the truth
Ya shouldn'ta spit that line
Now look at ya hidin' in ya coupe
Cause it's get bacc time
It ain't gonna be us so it's gotta be you
It's like four plus four nigga
This shit easy as addition
To get back niggas and have 'em missin'
Wha-what what to strip wack niggas and have 'em drippin'
Plugged for crossin' love when my thug bring y'all the endin'
[x2]

[Verse 2]
Please believe it, it happens daily
Make bitch niggas have my babies (then what?)
Fuck 'em in the ass give 'em rabies
Tuck 'em in the grass I'm off the shady O-eighty
Wid the salt shaker tryna eat niggas up like
Stanley Dean bacon killer slash make me shellin' out
She loves me loves me not, slugs be hot
Run up in yo million dollar spot
And get the, drugs and glocks and I leave the
Bloody rug spots and I get the
Money powder and the ice and I'm from the
Nutty Blocc hit the lights and I'm 'bout to
Get the kids and the wife and I'm 'bout to
Hold 'em hostage if I don't get what I want
Cut 'em up in little sausages, wreckless how Lynch is
You want no vengeance, my shit spit fine lines in yo extensions
It grips like a tiger so it ain't no sensin'
Tryna get away I been dyin' to get a day to touch you up
I mean hire motherfuckers that'll fuck you up
Wire motherfuckers all for the wet
I be shootin' that twelve guage offa the steps
Nigga off wid ya neck, ever since then, plottin' ya death
Get caught in your Lex take a quick wind get shot in the chest
Get ya cops and the tec, cause ever since then
Nothin'll rest 'til they gettin' locked in the pen
Cockin' a tec, poppin' the gin, quick to hide 'til ya set
See I'm at it again not 'til ya sweatin'
It's not under ya neck it's over ya head
It's over ya dead stood over ya bed pointin' a tec
Four to ya head jumped in the Nova and fled
I'm like a motherfuckin' gangsta
Bitch ass nigga I cut off ya middle finger

[Hook x1]

[Verse 3]
Like D-M-X I'm a ruff ryder, leave ya tied up
Wid ya nuts fried up
I'm the nigga that creep when it's dark in the sky
Parkin' the ride and then dartin' inside
Ya spot wid automatic toys nigga this sparkin' a riot
Good shit better hide behind ya boys
nigga add gas to the flames then
blast at ya main land, switch ya whole game plan
Leavin' bloody stains and wid enough nigga nuts and guts and
(Where?) Bodies in the Hudson I keep it bustin' and bustin'
I'm the medicine man like Robitussin
Hold ya huffin' and puffin' before I
Split ya tongue wid the jack knife better act right
and attack right now if you wanna get the Hung I split ya lung
If you lookin' for some of that sicc shit this the one
If you lookin' for some of that shoot 'em up kill 'em up
better get ya gun, young ass rappers
I'm like R.Kelly I fuck the young in this rap game
Cum on ya belly cum on ya tongue
Shit I'm one of the ones blowin' you up eatin' you up and then
Throwin' you up knowin' you sucked big fat nut nigga

[Hook x1]