Whats up man?
[Lynch] Whats that?
Its that prozac
[Lynch] How many - how many milligrams is that?
Shit, five hundred. Better watch out for these boys
[Lynch] Let me get some of that. I NEED it
Hahaha... Shit. What the fucks wrong with you boy. Whats up..
[Chorus]
See - my mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
Cause they won't find your body - shine your lobby
With flashlights - run in your spot time the robbery
[Verse 1]
Last night ran in your spot - blinded the other three
Talkin to my A-K forty seven like cover me
I'm goin' in - here I go again
Back to fuckin' with that O-8 English mixed with gin
Back to tuckin' shit thats cold make things rip your chin
Crack your dome I'm takin' gold thangs - shake mixed with cocaine
No brain - nigga it ain't no thang to
Run up on you with the rain leavin blood stains - who
Wanna fuck with me - the psycho of the city
I spit poison like poison boy back in the eighties
And it ain't pretty - the Sacramento Frank Nitty
The black version - all you heard is the Mac burstin'
[Chorus]
My mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
My mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
Cause they wont find your body - shine your lobby
With flashlights - run in your spot time the robbery
Six minutes to get in and out - play time
Run up in your house with the toys - don't say nuthin'
[Verse 2]
See somethin' ain't right - I'mma need some prozac nigga
Mentally off balance and it shows in my tracks nigga
Smokin' on a pack of cigarettes and malt liquor
Put your brains on a plate for dinner - like Dr. Lector
Red spot your sweats up - only one slice and your necks cut
Squirtin' out that red stuff - all over your dinette stuff
Drippin' into your living room - Im dippin' through your stash
Wheres my cash - don't make me take it out your ass
Don't make me take it out on your family - fuck your thug homies
Who mug on me - I plug homies with slugs homie
Thought you really knew me but you - don't even know me
All you know is I drink O-E - thats from the songs nigga
You fuckin' with the wrong nigga bout to get touched up
Like car paint - O-E and weed - is how my breath stank
Spittin' at your war tank - for the more bank
Thats the only reason what you niggaz think - I got problems
[Chorus]
My mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
My mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
Cause they wont find your body - shine your lobby
With flashlights - run in your spot time the robbery
Six minutes to get in and out - play time
Run up in your house with the toys - don't say nuthin'
(shhhhh)
[Verse 3]
Post your comments here - on my motherfuckin' nutsack
So fuck that nigga - I put his guts in a black sack
And in the back of the black S-U - ever since I was a test tube baby
I been sicker than Reservoir Dogs with the rabies
Just - smother it in gravy it'll work for me - but you forgot
Niggaz better pay me I don't work for free
Mix the O-8 and the gin and I'm like Hercules
Bout to - hurt your knees with these two two-threes
Make you hop like - Ju Ju Bees right off the motherfuckin' canvas
Its like liver and chitlins you niggaz can't stand this
I deliver the rip spit shit - that get ridda bitch quick shit
Hit niggaz with tips and split shit in half like citrus
And I dips dips - to the honeycomb - money gone
Now these niggaz mad 'cause I own shit and release my own shit
And got chrome grips and hollow tips - pointed at your face
Open your mouth - straight - ointment to the face
[Chorus]
Cause my mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
My mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
Cause they wont find your body - shine your lobby
With flashlights - run in your spot time the robbery
Six minutes to get in and out - play time
Run up in your house with the toys - don't say nuthin'
shhhh
Tried To Shoot Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
I be havin' bad dreams about doin' bad things
No money, my momma is gone, it's a sad thing
And the devil is laughin, if there was such a thing
You couldn't weigh my problems out with a human triple beam
I'm all fucked up, you might find me in the dump truck
Gin in my cup, hundred and fifty on the rough
I'm a tough act to follow, leave your chest hollow
See it ain't that tough, heat that ass up with the ralo
And hit the road, explode niggas with old vendettas
I talk alot of shit so my click pack berettas to rip back your leather
The world is cold, you could find me inside the bottle at 15 years old
I was tired of all the arguin', fussin', and fightin'
Ten years later I'm borrowin, adjusting the mic and
Try'na make it through these hard times, tellin' my problems
But who cares, everybody I know got 'em
I'm upstairs, starin' out the window drinkin O.E
I know this bottle really love me, I love you too
You be helpin' me through my problems, killin' my fears
And you understand when I break down you bring out the tears
And you give me heart, but I just can't take it
Shit's hella fucked up, bad luck, just can't shake it
Half way to the grave, half way from birth
Try'na wonder what my life is worth
I think I'm cursed
[Chorus x2]
I put the gun to my head, tried to shoot
I think I'm better off dead, where's my kids?
Make sure they ain't around, tell 'em I love um
Tell 'em bend down on the ground, plug ya ears
What you hear ain't nothin' but a cartoon
A bad dream, your daddy, he comin' back soon
In another form, re-born, with some great expectations
I'ma miss you too, believe it
Got dealt some bad punches, but I'ma roll with it
Got served some bad lunches, so who can I trust?
Got love and I don't want it, who's teachin' me hate?
Got hate when I don't need it, I believe in my faith
Diagnosed manic depressive, only learned one lesson
And that's fuck it, forget it, and let it die like the rest of 'em
Battled with the best of 'em, they can't touch me
Then shadowed out the rest of 'em, you can't fuck me
Might as well go 'head and let me murder myself
Niggas got hate for me anyway, take it, it's hell
And if I see you at the funeral, I'ma reach out for you
That one up in the corner, give his ass to the coroner
He just another foreigner, all in my mix
Don't have the slightest idea how I'm feelin 'bout shit
Cuz I maintain my composure, never tellin' the plan
My brain stained in dosia, I'm tellin' you man
[Chorus x1]
No money, my momma is gone, it's a sad thing
And the devil is laughin, if there was such a thing
You couldn't weigh my problems out with a human triple beam
I'm all fucked up, you might find me in the dump truck
Gin in my cup, hundred and fifty on the rough
I'm a tough act to follow, leave your chest hollow
See it ain't that tough, heat that ass up with the ralo
And hit the road, explode niggas with old vendettas
I talk alot of shit so my click pack berettas to rip back your leather
The world is cold, you could find me inside the bottle at 15 years old
I was tired of all the arguin', fussin', and fightin'
Ten years later I'm borrowin, adjusting the mic and
Try'na make it through these hard times, tellin' my problems
But who cares, everybody I know got 'em
I'm upstairs, starin' out the window drinkin O.E
I know this bottle really love me, I love you too
You be helpin' me through my problems, killin' my fears
And you understand when I break down you bring out the tears
And you give me heart, but I just can't take it
Shit's hella fucked up, bad luck, just can't shake it
Half way to the grave, half way from birth
Try'na wonder what my life is worth
I think I'm cursed
[Chorus x2]
I put the gun to my head, tried to shoot
I think I'm better off dead, where's my kids?
Make sure they ain't around, tell 'em I love um
Tell 'em bend down on the ground, plug ya ears
What you hear ain't nothin' but a cartoon
A bad dream, your daddy, he comin' back soon
In another form, re-born, with some great expectations
I'ma miss you too, believe it
Got dealt some bad punches, but I'ma roll with it
Got served some bad lunches, so who can I trust?
Got love and I don't want it, who's teachin' me hate?
Got hate when I don't need it, I believe in my faith
Diagnosed manic depressive, only learned one lesson
And that's fuck it, forget it, and let it die like the rest of 'em
Battled with the best of 'em, they can't touch me
Then shadowed out the rest of 'em, you can't fuck me
Might as well go 'head and let me murder myself
Niggas got hate for me anyway, take it, it's hell
And if I see you at the funeral, I'ma reach out for you
That one up in the corner, give his ass to the coroner
He just another foreigner, all in my mix
Don't have the slightest idea how I'm feelin 'bout shit
Cuz I maintain my composure, never tellin' the plan
My brain stained in dosia, I'm tellin' you man
[Chorus x1]
Suicide Note Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
Hey, Yeah
Come here, Wussup
Let me tell you something, Humm?
Do me this favor, What favor?
I want you to take care of my kids for me
I'll be right back, Why you doing this?
When they ask you about me
Just tell them he didn't give a fuck about shit
That's what I want them to know
Cuz that's what they think anyways, alright
Will you be my voice? Okay
Will you be my feelings?
Finally let them know
[Verse 1]
You tell me this
How do you tell your kids that you addicted to drugs
And that your love ain't nothing to spark with to a dub
And even though it's just weed it got me spending up G's
Buying up keys and smoking my weed amongst thieves
I rather jack off then fuck bitches
I'll make it crack off
I hit switches
Use to get crack off quick
Do the snitches
I use to bang up the block
The homie cooked up the rock
While I use to look up the block
For the po po's
I know my do knows
And my don't knows
Moved out the Deuce Fo to do rap shows
And lost a couple of homies (fuck)
Big Zo he still with me
He a OG
29th street Crip
That nigga know me
You know E it goes deep
Q-Ball resting in peace
Spent years trying to fight the tears
And I got new problems resting in me
Still crying over joyce memories
Still wish Sicx and X was out wit me
So here's my suicide note (come on)
Take care of my kids
Cuz I ain't coming back for years
Here's my suicide note
My life is a joke
Baby please read the letter I wrote
Here's my suicide note
Hold back the tears I'll be back in a couple of years
Here's my suicide note
Cuz my life is a joke
So please homie read the letter I wrote
Come here, Wussup
Let me tell you something, Humm?
Do me this favor, What favor?
I want you to take care of my kids for me
I'll be right back, Why you doing this?
When they ask you about me
Just tell them he didn't give a fuck about shit
That's what I want them to know
Cuz that's what they think anyways, alright
Will you be my voice? Okay
Will you be my feelings?
Finally let them know
[Verse 1]
You tell me this
How do you tell your kids that you addicted to drugs
And that your love ain't nothing to spark with to a dub
And even though it's just weed it got me spending up G's
Buying up keys and smoking my weed amongst thieves
I rather jack off then fuck bitches
I'll make it crack off
I hit switches
Use to get crack off quick
Do the snitches
I use to bang up the block
The homie cooked up the rock
While I use to look up the block
For the po po's
I know my do knows
And my don't knows
Moved out the Deuce Fo to do rap shows
And lost a couple of homies (fuck)
Big Zo he still with me
He a OG
29th street Crip
That nigga know me
You know E it goes deep
Q-Ball resting in peace
Spent years trying to fight the tears
And I got new problems resting in me
Still crying over joyce memories
Still wish Sicx and X was out wit me
So here's my suicide note (come on)
Take care of my kids
Cuz I ain't coming back for years
Here's my suicide note
My life is a joke
Baby please read the letter I wrote
Here's my suicide note
Hold back the tears I'll be back in a couple of years
Here's my suicide note
Cuz my life is a joke
So please homie read the letter I wrote
Catch You Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Cocain (Paper Chasin Organization))
[Chorus x4: Nefarious]
Catch ya wit yo pants
Catch ya wit yo pants down, and maybe while you sleepin'
Don't matter what you saw, death is what you reepin'
[Lynch]
I remain real like my cousin E-Mil
Packin steel
It's the Southside whorida
Can't fuck wit these othasidas
Eastside, Westside
This situation is dirty like chopped up nation
So I stay wit the best side
Nigga let's ride (Fuck that!!)
I stay solo like a black cat
Fuck a bad wrap
I seen it happen to my cousin
I'm like the Dirty Dozen
Wrapped up in buns
“He said he was buzzin”
But you know he wasn't
Cause if life was free I would say fuck money
You can douse me in monkey blood
Fill my pockets wit drug money and duck from me
You was a fuck homie only wanted the plug nigga
Cut yo shit off like smud nigga
I gotta say fuck niggas and buck niggas
And wit a passion and keep smashin'
Get away before the task bend the corner
On a mission for rippin niggas up like toilet tissue
Wit the German issue
Now yo family gone have to miss you
I'm sicker than racism
It's everybody killa
Hit you wit the fully issue
Like PG&E lit you
See me in 3D git you
Hit em up git rid of
Did em up like dirty draws
He was a jealous mothafucka
As the story was told 29 years old
350 Gs in the bank but nobody knows
I guess it's just that season I thank
When niggas be hos
Fuckin em in the cheap mo mos
Leavin em dead in the bath tub wit no clothes
Razorbladed Grove
[Chorus x4]
[Cocain]
I'mma catch you wit yo pants down
Since you was talkin that shit
You was hard on the Boulevard
Now I'mma buck this clip
On your self I make you shit
When antagonized if you don't realize
You must be the type that like surprise
I'll rise out the hood on chrome skates
Pull a top notch bitch and fuck her ass hard on the first day
Throwin it at me wit no debate (none)
But I ain't the one to be trustin em
Ain't finna get me for rape
Punk bitch tried to hand me a case
Until I dropped her on her face
Bitch!! Take that shit and skate
I ride wit these realas
These niggas ain't neva fake
Dope dealas and killas
Whateva product could lace
One time I always shake
See I'm hella fast on that ass get away clean
Most of the time count on the cash
Hata niggas I bake em
Playa nigga I make em
Major figgas my mind is up on
Gold diggas I'll shake em
I'm that real nigga that real figga
That real nigga from the fake
Cause real nigga look at a fake nigga
And they always tend to shake
Crossed me at one time
And I told you I'll be buckin at your wake
Cause when I tell yo ass one time it's all it takes
How many rhymes i'mma have tell a cat
Bitch I ain't fake
Betta listen to the Money Hungry album shit it's money to make
And when it's money to be makin'
That mean it's money to be takin'
So watch yo back cause I'mma be in all black theivin like Gary Payton
[Chorus x4]
Catch ya wit yo pants
Catch ya wit yo pants down, and maybe while you sleepin'
Don't matter what you saw, death is what you reepin'
[Lynch]
I remain real like my cousin E-Mil
Packin steel
It's the Southside whorida
Can't fuck wit these othasidas
Eastside, Westside
This situation is dirty like chopped up nation
So I stay wit the best side
Nigga let's ride (Fuck that!!)
I stay solo like a black cat
Fuck a bad wrap
I seen it happen to my cousin
I'm like the Dirty Dozen
Wrapped up in buns
“He said he was buzzin”
But you know he wasn't
Cause if life was free I would say fuck money
You can douse me in monkey blood
Fill my pockets wit drug money and duck from me
You was a fuck homie only wanted the plug nigga
Cut yo shit off like smud nigga
I gotta say fuck niggas and buck niggas
And wit a passion and keep smashin'
Get away before the task bend the corner
On a mission for rippin niggas up like toilet tissue
Wit the German issue
Now yo family gone have to miss you
I'm sicker than racism
It's everybody killa
Hit you wit the fully issue
Like PG&E lit you
See me in 3D git you
Hit em up git rid of
Did em up like dirty draws
He was a jealous mothafucka
As the story was told 29 years old
350 Gs in the bank but nobody knows
I guess it's just that season I thank
When niggas be hos
Fuckin em in the cheap mo mos
Leavin em dead in the bath tub wit no clothes
Razorbladed Grove
[Chorus x4]
[Cocain]
I'mma catch you wit yo pants down
Since you was talkin that shit
You was hard on the Boulevard
Now I'mma buck this clip
On your self I make you shit
When antagonized if you don't realize
You must be the type that like surprise
I'll rise out the hood on chrome skates
Pull a top notch bitch and fuck her ass hard on the first day
Throwin it at me wit no debate (none)
But I ain't the one to be trustin em
Ain't finna get me for rape
Punk bitch tried to hand me a case
Until I dropped her on her face
Bitch!! Take that shit and skate
I ride wit these realas
These niggas ain't neva fake
Dope dealas and killas
Whateva product could lace
One time I always shake
See I'm hella fast on that ass get away clean
Most of the time count on the cash
Hata niggas I bake em
Playa nigga I make em
Major figgas my mind is up on
Gold diggas I'll shake em
I'm that real nigga that real figga
That real nigga from the fake
Cause real nigga look at a fake nigga
And they always tend to shake
Crossed me at one time
And I told you I'll be buckin at your wake
Cause when I tell yo ass one time it's all it takes
How many rhymes i'mma have tell a cat
Bitch I ain't fake
Betta listen to the Money Hungry album shit it's money to make
And when it's money to be makin'
That mean it's money to be takin'
So watch yo back cause I'mma be in all black theivin like Gary Payton
[Chorus x4]
Hunter Killa Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Kyel)
[Lynch]
It's the Hunta Killa
Off of the 9 skrilla
Wit my nap sack fulla pilla
Nigga worst than the movie Thrilla and realla
Cause this is real life (that's right)
I saw that nigga get his head tore off (by who?)
By the same nigga that took his wife
You know I come nutty stingin like syphillis
You can get your liver split
By your own bictch fuckin wit this
Stay drunk when I dip and ain't shit
I got vast amounts
Your ass'll count em when I'm shootin em down your bitch's mouth
(Cause this the) Hunta Killa deal a lot
And fuckin em shit shoes (wit the what?)
Wit the nine and watchin the bloody nut come out everytime
And you know it's mine
When I com through loomin
Wit the MK-1 and when they done they lookin like sushi (Raw!)
Wit the oozie I get the shit done
You know it's like velcro or polygrip
I stick to the shit that make you nut up wit your dome split
I want you to trip
And I'll be sittin right there wit the casket
(You know!) you was at the wrong place at the right time then you got blasted
(You hoe!) Hunta Killa in black mack-10 in the trunk with the slump
I'll hug you like mama
When I use it it gotta be because I be off that juicy shit
Not use to it I'm addicted to the siccness
Might flip this nigga shit frequently
Them young g's they wanna speak to me
(But what) but they don't need to be
I'll have they hat quick
Wit no pactice
Put you in the trunk wit the slump stickin em like a cactus
And I'm concentratin on stackin grip
I got's to hit you wit the slug
No love bitch ass nigga you know
It's Hunta Killa (that's realla)
[Chorus: x3]
Put you in duct tape and leave you sinkin in the river
(Hunta Killa! Killa!)
Put you in duct! Put you in duct tape!
[Kyel]
Spent most of my time on the grind
In the bucket wit a loaded tech nine
On the corner lookin' out for the one time
And these niggas from the othaside tryin to take mine
Keep the heat on my waist line
Make bullets chase niggas and erase fake niggas
You can call me the grave digga
Money go-getta all about the skrilla
Cap pilla known for breakin in homes and gettin the goods
Cross the line of the mastermind mothafucka I wish you would
Got niggas in every hood and ready to go to war
I'm gettin paid the way I should so what the fuck you hatin for
Waistin time thinkin bout mine you should be gettin yours
You den put yourself in some deep shit
Now you hittin the floor when I come through
Kickin down your door like a predator
Spittin lyrics in metaphors
All you rap cats thinkin you the shit
My game's 10 years ahead of yours
And I'm headed for the top
Lyrics don't never stop
So fuck whateva you talkin bout
I'm takin over shit and I'm settin up shop
Raisin niggas up out they spot
All you bustas gotta go
Now I'mma bust a bitch and let you know
We can tear and war wit these scary hoes
Wit a tech 9 to your dome
It aint shit for me to run up in your home
Wit the chrome take whateva the fuck I want then get gone
I was born to be a rida known as a balla shot calla
Leader of the pack
Ain't neva been no followa
Ain't neva been no busta
Dumpin on mothafuckas
Ain't neva been no sucka spillin information to the undacova
I only fuck wit ridas and realas thug niggas drug dealas
All about the skrilla cemetary fillas
It's Hunta Killa (That's reala)
[Chorus x3]
It's the Hunta Killa
Off of the 9 skrilla
Wit my nap sack fulla pilla
Nigga worst than the movie Thrilla and realla
Cause this is real life (that's right)
I saw that nigga get his head tore off (by who?)
By the same nigga that took his wife
You know I come nutty stingin like syphillis
You can get your liver split
By your own bictch fuckin wit this
Stay drunk when I dip and ain't shit
I got vast amounts
Your ass'll count em when I'm shootin em down your bitch's mouth
(Cause this the) Hunta Killa deal a lot
And fuckin em shit shoes (wit the what?)
Wit the nine and watchin the bloody nut come out everytime
And you know it's mine
When I com through loomin
Wit the MK-1 and when they done they lookin like sushi (Raw!)
Wit the oozie I get the shit done
You know it's like velcro or polygrip
I stick to the shit that make you nut up wit your dome split
I want you to trip
And I'll be sittin right there wit the casket
(You know!) you was at the wrong place at the right time then you got blasted
(You hoe!) Hunta Killa in black mack-10 in the trunk with the slump
I'll hug you like mama
When I use it it gotta be because I be off that juicy shit
Not use to it I'm addicted to the siccness
Might flip this nigga shit frequently
Them young g's they wanna speak to me
(But what) but they don't need to be
I'll have they hat quick
Wit no pactice
Put you in the trunk wit the slump stickin em like a cactus
And I'm concentratin on stackin grip
I got's to hit you wit the slug
No love bitch ass nigga you know
It's Hunta Killa (that's realla)
[Chorus: x3]
Put you in duct tape and leave you sinkin in the river
(Hunta Killa! Killa!)
Put you in duct! Put you in duct tape!
[Kyel]
Spent most of my time on the grind
In the bucket wit a loaded tech nine
On the corner lookin' out for the one time
And these niggas from the othaside tryin to take mine
Keep the heat on my waist line
Make bullets chase niggas and erase fake niggas
You can call me the grave digga
Money go-getta all about the skrilla
Cap pilla known for breakin in homes and gettin the goods
Cross the line of the mastermind mothafucka I wish you would
Got niggas in every hood and ready to go to war
I'm gettin paid the way I should so what the fuck you hatin for
Waistin time thinkin bout mine you should be gettin yours
You den put yourself in some deep shit
Now you hittin the floor when I come through
Kickin down your door like a predator
Spittin lyrics in metaphors
All you rap cats thinkin you the shit
My game's 10 years ahead of yours
And I'm headed for the top
Lyrics don't never stop
So fuck whateva you talkin bout
I'm takin over shit and I'm settin up shop
Raisin niggas up out they spot
All you bustas gotta go
Now I'mma bust a bitch and let you know
We can tear and war wit these scary hoes
Wit a tech 9 to your dome
It aint shit for me to run up in your home
Wit the chrome take whateva the fuck I want then get gone
I was born to be a rida known as a balla shot calla
Leader of the pack
Ain't neva been no followa
Ain't neva been no busta
Dumpin on mothafuckas
Ain't neva been no sucka spillin information to the undacova
I only fuck wit ridas and realas thug niggas drug dealas
All about the skrilla cemetary fillas
It's Hunta Killa (That's reala)
[Chorus x3]
Dogg Market Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Snoop Dogg)
[Snoop]
I'm in a murderous-mental mind state, monopolizin on 'em
Enterprise with homicide, rock this dope and cut them corners (corners)
Worldwide, visualize, two young killas on the rise
Ain't that a bitch, Snoop Dogg and Brotha Lynch
[Lynch]
And we remain bombed out (what), no doubt
Eat niggas up with sour crout (what up), hollow 'em out
'Bout to open my own business, Siccmade Meats
Where you gonna get your product from nigga?
Sacramento streets (WHY), gotta be
'Cause these niggas be trippin
I'm dippin in and out the city with the ?? whip (what)
With no pity, dingy, dirty, grimey and gritty, get me
[Snoop]
I had a bundle of bitchest before I had a bundle a dollas
A fist full a problems while I'm poppin my collar (ay, ay, ay)
Sockin bustas, frontin hustlers with they work on the streets
From the streets, to the sweets (to the what), to the slugs, to the east (man)
Please believe, let me holler at you nephew
What you do and what I do, I'll make you wan' act a fool
[Lynch]
Alright, wait, wait, wait, hold up
Avian lies up in the city, smashin with the fifty-slug
No love, leave ya layin down lookin at the stars above ('cause what)
'Cause everything fade to black, like a scene change, ain't it strange
Illegal procedure through out the game, lets ya nuts hang, hit the rain (rain)
?? like ??, laid 'em up with the hay
They, found the body three months later as I hit him with the potato
Ate up his midsection, recollection, murder on my mind (ay what)
Got me chin-checkin, and they said (that real?), heard it all the time
That's what these muthafuckas think about me, they ain't made it
Mad 'cause niggas be tryna' ?? some G's,
smoke weed (?? some G's, smoke weed)
Everyday, best believe, everyday
Ay you, you nigga tryna' start ?? move out my way
Bet you never see me in black clothes, creepin out the back yard
Hard-boiled with lead toes
[Snoop]
I got so much to do with so little time
My folks smoke dope that'll blow ya mind, hmm
I bust a bitch about a quarter 'til nine
So by 10:15 I got my dick on her spine
Relax, recline, roll somethin nigga
Hit this shit, blaze it up, now raise it up
The grip and the bitch, yeah, stays with us
Now, a lot a y'all niggas be talkin 'bout y'all livin it up, and give it up
But let me take ya back to the essence, and shit
Meditate and drop a message and shit
You crumb-snatchin, no rappin peasants
The big dog want it all, I came back to snatch all y'all presents
Dippin, slippin, slidin away
From the Sac-town to the L-B, we do this shit like everyday
Do you feel me, I'm the untouchable
Fuckin with the rectable, unquestionable, remarkable,
fabulous and all that shit
You know, I'm the original, biiitch, the original, biiitch
I'm in a murderous-mental mind state, monopolizin on 'em
Enterprise with homicide, rock this dope and cut them corners (corners)
Worldwide, visualize, two young killas on the rise
Ain't that a bitch, Snoop Dogg and Brotha Lynch
[Lynch]
And we remain bombed out (what), no doubt
Eat niggas up with sour crout (what up), hollow 'em out
'Bout to open my own business, Siccmade Meats
Where you gonna get your product from nigga?
Sacramento streets (WHY), gotta be
'Cause these niggas be trippin
I'm dippin in and out the city with the ?? whip (what)
With no pity, dingy, dirty, grimey and gritty, get me
[Snoop]
I had a bundle of bitchest before I had a bundle a dollas
A fist full a problems while I'm poppin my collar (ay, ay, ay)
Sockin bustas, frontin hustlers with they work on the streets
From the streets, to the sweets (to the what), to the slugs, to the east (man)
Please believe, let me holler at you nephew
What you do and what I do, I'll make you wan' act a fool
[Lynch]
Alright, wait, wait, wait, hold up
Avian lies up in the city, smashin with the fifty-slug
No love, leave ya layin down lookin at the stars above ('cause what)
'Cause everything fade to black, like a scene change, ain't it strange
Illegal procedure through out the game, lets ya nuts hang, hit the rain (rain)
?? like ??, laid 'em up with the hay
They, found the body three months later as I hit him with the potato
Ate up his midsection, recollection, murder on my mind (ay what)
Got me chin-checkin, and they said (that real?), heard it all the time
That's what these muthafuckas think about me, they ain't made it
Mad 'cause niggas be tryna' ?? some G's,
smoke weed (?? some G's, smoke weed)
Everyday, best believe, everyday
Ay you, you nigga tryna' start ?? move out my way
Bet you never see me in black clothes, creepin out the back yard
Hard-boiled with lead toes
[Snoop]
I got so much to do with so little time
My folks smoke dope that'll blow ya mind, hmm
I bust a bitch about a quarter 'til nine
So by 10:15 I got my dick on her spine
Relax, recline, roll somethin nigga
Hit this shit, blaze it up, now raise it up
The grip and the bitch, yeah, stays with us
Now, a lot a y'all niggas be talkin 'bout y'all livin it up, and give it up
But let me take ya back to the essence, and shit
Meditate and drop a message and shit
You crumb-snatchin, no rappin peasants
The big dog want it all, I came back to snatch all y'all presents
Dippin, slippin, slidin away
From the Sac-town to the L-B, we do this shit like everyday
Do you feel me, I'm the untouchable
Fuckin with the rectable, unquestionable, remarkable,
fabulous and all that shit
You know, I'm the original, biiitch, the original, biiitch
Every Single Bitch Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Intro: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Fuck these hoes, it's the re-do, you know how we do
Every Single Bitch y'all
From the Psycho Active album, by my nigga X (Nerfarious)
Bear nigga the flex, can't come nearious (biatch) (who is this?)
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
It's the muthafucken Lynch and I'm back on a X track
'Bout to tell you niggas how to keep a hoe stack (what you do?)
What you got to do, ta have your bitch clockin
Just put her on skirt, (then what?) sit her on stock then fish-net stockins
Tight around thick jock, make it look good, to the normal nigga eye
That bitch'll make a killin even if she ain't fine (what?!)
Cuz a big ass and some titties is a gold mine, deuce-nine dollars
A nut, two nuts is 58, an extra 4 if want the hoe to masturbate
A blow job is 24 bocks a hit
But it's worth she see the hoe swallow the gooey shit
And when I come through she be comin to see daddy
Like a O.G., you know me, I'm sittin in the Caddy, kick back
Look at the hoe like "Wow!"
Bitch your my slave, what should I make her do know?
You can't treat a bitch good, you know (no)
What good is a nigga who ain't slappin his hoe
So peep, let 'em all know that you don't play
And every bitch gotta price to pay
That's real, you bitches, fuck hoes mayn
They got all off crack, tryin to make you scratch
That's realer than real, shots to that nigga Nefarious
He put down the original game, nigga just need to bring back some doe
Slow me, uh, productions
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Who's the hoe? A bitch named {silence} was the trick
She gave up the poo-poo for not one cent
She didn't pay, fuck it I kept the hoe
Every morning at 6 A.M. she was leavin out my window
The close homie probably hit 'em too
I thought I gave her fuck but she probably fucked the whole crew
I can't lie, I hella liked the bitch
But like X-Raided said: "Once a bitch, always a bitch"
So why try to change her?
I rather be by myslef, fuck a hoe I strangle her
The only woman I respect
Is my muthafucken moma, disrespect I break yo neck
It's hella easy pullin hoes (hella easy pullin)
Half cuz I got game and half cuz I'm in the store
Dumb bitch you, you get's no play (24 street)
You got a price to pay, fa sho
Fuck these all muthafucken
Disease carrien
Muthafucken red pussy havin
Cuz it's been dug up, stretch up, phunky stupid ass, biatches
Set up bicthes, yaknowwhuti'msayin
Fuck 'em and leave 'em
[Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That's that bitch givin up the cash
I know a hoe, who would straight up jack yo ass
You might go to the mo-mo and get you some
Then you wakin in hella broke and feelin dumb
She made you cum then your ass went to sleep (then what hapend?)
Took your ki and out the doo' the hoe creep
You got got by a sneeky ass bitch
Now she's kickin with a notha nigga, front you shit
You said the baby had you caught, that's what you said
But you thought she was sprung so you gave her the bread
It was all of the bitches plot
Big spider web, yo ass got caught
You went in her that night loc
Yeah, she said use the rubber, a big fucken
She got head, ate and paid quick
And all you got was a fat ass cheuqe to spend
See, niggaz just love the bomb shit
Them bitches cry to make a nigga go for it
But not me, nigga I do it my way
Cuz every bitch got a price to pay, fa sho
Youknow, what I say, haha, them bitches got you stretched out...
Fuck these hoes, it's the re-do, you know how we do
Every Single Bitch y'all
From the Psycho Active album, by my nigga X (Nerfarious)
Bear nigga the flex, can't come nearious (biatch) (who is this?)
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
It's the muthafucken Lynch and I'm back on a X track
'Bout to tell you niggas how to keep a hoe stack (what you do?)
What you got to do, ta have your bitch clockin
Just put her on skirt, (then what?) sit her on stock then fish-net stockins
Tight around thick jock, make it look good, to the normal nigga eye
That bitch'll make a killin even if she ain't fine (what?!)
Cuz a big ass and some titties is a gold mine, deuce-nine dollars
A nut, two nuts is 58, an extra 4 if want the hoe to masturbate
A blow job is 24 bocks a hit
But it's worth she see the hoe swallow the gooey shit
And when I come through she be comin to see daddy
Like a O.G., you know me, I'm sittin in the Caddy, kick back
Look at the hoe like "Wow!"
Bitch your my slave, what should I make her do know?
You can't treat a bitch good, you know (no)
What good is a nigga who ain't slappin his hoe
So peep, let 'em all know that you don't play
And every bitch gotta price to pay
That's real, you bitches, fuck hoes mayn
They got all off crack, tryin to make you scratch
That's realer than real, shots to that nigga Nefarious
He put down the original game, nigga just need to bring back some doe
Slow me, uh, productions
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Who's the hoe? A bitch named {silence} was the trick
She gave up the poo-poo for not one cent
She didn't pay, fuck it I kept the hoe
Every morning at 6 A.M. she was leavin out my window
The close homie probably hit 'em too
I thought I gave her fuck but she probably fucked the whole crew
I can't lie, I hella liked the bitch
But like X-Raided said: "Once a bitch, always a bitch"
So why try to change her?
I rather be by myslef, fuck a hoe I strangle her
The only woman I respect
Is my muthafucken moma, disrespect I break yo neck
It's hella easy pullin hoes (hella easy pullin)
Half cuz I got game and half cuz I'm in the store
Dumb bitch you, you get's no play (24 street)
You got a price to pay, fa sho
Fuck these all muthafucken
Disease carrien
Muthafucken red pussy havin
Cuz it's been dug up, stretch up, phunky stupid ass, biatches
Set up bicthes, yaknowwhuti'msayin
Fuck 'em and leave 'em
[Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That's that bitch givin up the cash
I know a hoe, who would straight up jack yo ass
You might go to the mo-mo and get you some
Then you wakin in hella broke and feelin dumb
She made you cum then your ass went to sleep (then what hapend?)
Took your ki and out the doo' the hoe creep
You got got by a sneeky ass bitch
Now she's kickin with a notha nigga, front you shit
You said the baby had you caught, that's what you said
But you thought she was sprung so you gave her the bread
It was all of the bitches plot
Big spider web, yo ass got caught
You went in her that night loc
Yeah, she said use the rubber, a big fucken
She got head, ate and paid quick
And all you got was a fat ass cheuqe to spend
See, niggaz just love the bomb shit
Them bitches cry to make a nigga go for it
But not me, nigga I do it my way
Cuz every bitch got a price to pay, fa sho
Youknow, what I say, haha, them bitches got you stretched out...
My Love Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Pook, Shotgun)
[Lynch]
I know, you remember Holiday Inn
Had to hit it from the back drinkin OE and gin
I used to eat pussy up, I can't lie,
that's really real, really real, really real
See I met you through the homies
That homie was like cuz, wont you jump up in the cutlass
Come and get you some butt
Came through swervin off OE like I always do
Same two straps in the trunk cuz where you at aint coo
I was like boo hold up its midnight and I got the eyes tight
Knew it was on just as long as I rub the thighs right
Next thing you know, we disrespecting the couch
Feel the pressure in my nutts
Its about to come out
You was like inside, whoride, I don't give a fuck
We can fuck untill I throw up all the way to sunrise then cut
And thats what happened
It was crackin like an omlet
Got you hittin that bomb shit
And you don't even enhale the chronic
Stupid ass biiatch
[Pook]
I used to love da hoe, I can't lie
Bitch had me stuck
25 years later the fuck so many haters ??
Bitch you need to grow up
You already know what side I throw up (Westside bitch!)
Given our game back to weak niggas to help them niggas blow up
But shiesty bitch you know what
You gon get back , you gon feel it nigga
I heard the FBI tried to shut you down said you done been the nigga
Said you ?? violent thoughts
And youre a thug wannabe, followin
Doing more than lickin the pussy
They smellin a tastin, bitin, swollowin leavin the pussyhole hollow
Heard the pussy picked up a forth the Henessey bottle
Now everybody thinkin nigga fuck, leavin them whiteboys in Colorado
But fuck it, let a hoe be a hoe is my motto
Cant let it rest
Gotta get it off my chest just to express my sorrow
I guess your pimp had you impressin ?? stories
Actin the sweet, said fuck ya man,
got a plan to get yo ass of the streets
Gave you the fame without the fortune
Get you under the sheets
Bitch if you always on your back, then you can't get on your feet
I used to love this rap game!
[Shotgun]
I bet you didn't know that she used to be my main hoe
Back in the days
When I was runnin up in houses with socks on my hands tryin to get paid
It was like Courvoisier and Alize
Most couldn't fade, cuz we buck till we both gain 5 6 times a day
How could I walk away from something that seems it's meant to be
You neva trip with me
When I took charge it was just the pimp in me
You was either quick to flex with it
When niggas and they bitches got fat
But look at us now, you aint around huh
And never in my mind did I think you turned bitch on me
Skip one day and the next
Plottin licks on me
See yous a phony, I aint fuckin wit you no more
Like Ice Cube said
You da ex-bitch, you gotz ta go
You know the motto, so fuck a hoe
And puttin the bitch before the hustle thats a no
Because they have you comin up short
Spendin my last dimes, wastin all my time in my life
There's only group of one love and thats the grind biiatch!
I know, you remember Holiday Inn
Had to hit it from the back drinkin OE and gin
I used to eat pussy up, I can't lie,
that's really real, really real, really real
See I met you through the homies
That homie was like cuz, wont you jump up in the cutlass
Come and get you some butt
Came through swervin off OE like I always do
Same two straps in the trunk cuz where you at aint coo
I was like boo hold up its midnight and I got the eyes tight
Knew it was on just as long as I rub the thighs right
Next thing you know, we disrespecting the couch
Feel the pressure in my nutts
Its about to come out
You was like inside, whoride, I don't give a fuck
We can fuck untill I throw up all the way to sunrise then cut
And thats what happened
It was crackin like an omlet
Got you hittin that bomb shit
And you don't even enhale the chronic
Stupid ass biiatch
[Pook]
I used to love da hoe, I can't lie
Bitch had me stuck
25 years later the fuck so many haters ??
Bitch you need to grow up
You already know what side I throw up (Westside bitch!)
Given our game back to weak niggas to help them niggas blow up
But shiesty bitch you know what
You gon get back , you gon feel it nigga
I heard the FBI tried to shut you down said you done been the nigga
Said you ?? violent thoughts
And youre a thug wannabe, followin
Doing more than lickin the pussy
They smellin a tastin, bitin, swollowin leavin the pussyhole hollow
Heard the pussy picked up a forth the Henessey bottle
Now everybody thinkin nigga fuck, leavin them whiteboys in Colorado
But fuck it, let a hoe be a hoe is my motto
Cant let it rest
Gotta get it off my chest just to express my sorrow
I guess your pimp had you impressin ?? stories
Actin the sweet, said fuck ya man,
got a plan to get yo ass of the streets
Gave you the fame without the fortune
Get you under the sheets
Bitch if you always on your back, then you can't get on your feet
I used to love this rap game!
[Shotgun]
I bet you didn't know that she used to be my main hoe
Back in the days
When I was runnin up in houses with socks on my hands tryin to get paid
It was like Courvoisier and Alize
Most couldn't fade, cuz we buck till we both gain 5 6 times a day
How could I walk away from something that seems it's meant to be
You neva trip with me
When I took charge it was just the pimp in me
You was either quick to flex with it
When niggas and they bitches got fat
But look at us now, you aint around huh
And never in my mind did I think you turned bitch on me
Skip one day and the next
Plottin licks on me
See yous a phony, I aint fuckin wit you no more
Like Ice Cube said
You da ex-bitch, you gotz ta go
You know the motto, so fuck a hoe
And puttin the bitch before the hustle thats a no
Because they have you comin up short
Spendin my last dimes, wastin all my time in my life
There's only group of one love and thats the grind biiatch!
Naked Cheese Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Chopah, K5)
[Chorus x1 (Lynch)]
I run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i...
run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
[Verse (Lynch)]
Met me a top notch about 19
saw the goldies and let me up in the splene
she got freaky when she smoked that weed
thats why i couldnt wait to make the young bitch bleed.
i had my champagne cut with some rump in the butt
in the back seats where i ??
she said cant be yo bitch but i just love to fuck
man i be havin them type of ho's coughing up blood and guts.
No matter what i got the access checked the mattress and got my strap cause rival hoods'll have you end up thats why i carry that Mini-Mac...
10 on the dot and im at yo spot (now what?)
in the Cut with the killa green and it really aint all that bad if you supply me some splene.
Know what i mean i had to check that ho
if not i bet u'd see that bitches brains on the flo'.
(You know)my weed aint have no seeds in it
foggin up the Cutlas Supreme
rollin down the street in it.
Aint to need in it if there aint no weed in it
nigga i be off the hook like a telephone when fuckin with some of dat light green seasonin'.
Anyways, i had the black briefcase
and im'a leave this situation without a trace
we gets to the place i dont really wanna do it all night long
but im off that Ol E and im'a probly do it all night long.
In the morning im gone.
When you be hittin me on my dispatch
you be tellin em you the main one
but now fuck what you yellin cuz i...
[Chorus x2 (Lynch)]
...run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i...
run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
[fuck the other rappers lyrics]
[Verse (Lynch)]
Met this bitch while i was lookin for a zip
she had a seven-deuce Cut and i was trippin off da..
i was off dat Alize, everyday, hard as fuck
knowin bootches aint shit so i fucked that notch in the back of the
Cut and got the fuck up
Saw my nigga Phonk Beta picked him up
he had a fat sack of bomb and a blunt i said roll it up.
Now im twisted with a pitch grip on the Alize and two miles away
from a hit i met the other day told her i was on my way...over...
in my brothers cocaine white nova
shift kit, high rise manifold, 350 motor
told her i was two years older
cuz i run through ho's like pounds of the douja'.
[Chorus x3 (Lynch)]
I run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i...
I run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why im runnin through them ho's like pounds of weed
sittin' bitches on the curb and hittin' the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
UH fo'the nine nebin
Aint got no down ass bitch on my side
You know Phonk Beta (what up?)
Down ass bitch on my side.
Just had a brand new baby.
Fo the nine nebin (nebin)
Baby Kevin
I run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i...
run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
[Verse (Lynch)]
Met me a top notch about 19
saw the goldies and let me up in the splene
she got freaky when she smoked that weed
thats why i couldnt wait to make the young bitch bleed.
i had my champagne cut with some rump in the butt
in the back seats where i ??
she said cant be yo bitch but i just love to fuck
man i be havin them type of ho's coughing up blood and guts.
No matter what i got the access checked the mattress and got my strap cause rival hoods'll have you end up thats why i carry that Mini-Mac...
10 on the dot and im at yo spot (now what?)
in the Cut with the killa green and it really aint all that bad if you supply me some splene.
Know what i mean i had to check that ho
if not i bet u'd see that bitches brains on the flo'.
(You know)my weed aint have no seeds in it
foggin up the Cutlas Supreme
rollin down the street in it.
Aint to need in it if there aint no weed in it
nigga i be off the hook like a telephone when fuckin with some of dat light green seasonin'.
Anyways, i had the black briefcase
and im'a leave this situation without a trace
we gets to the place i dont really wanna do it all night long
but im off that Ol E and im'a probly do it all night long.
In the morning im gone.
When you be hittin me on my dispatch
you be tellin em you the main one
but now fuck what you yellin cuz i...
[Chorus x2 (Lynch)]
...run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i...
run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
[fuck the other rappers lyrics]
[Verse (Lynch)]
Met this bitch while i was lookin for a zip
she had a seven-deuce Cut and i was trippin off da..
i was off dat Alize, everyday, hard as fuck
knowin bootches aint shit so i fucked that notch in the back of the
Cut and got the fuck up
Saw my nigga Phonk Beta picked him up
he had a fat sack of bomb and a blunt i said roll it up.
Now im twisted with a pitch grip on the Alize and two miles away
from a hit i met the other day told her i was on my way...over...
in my brothers cocaine white nova
shift kit, high rise manifold, 350 motor
told her i was two years older
cuz i run through ho's like pounds of the douja'.
[Chorus x3 (Lynch)]
I run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i...
I run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why im runnin through them ho's like pounds of weed
sittin' bitches on the curb and hittin' the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
Thats why i run through ho's like pounds of weed
sit a bitch on the curb and hit the 350(50)
and all these years i cant believe
somebody put they paws in my naked cheese.
UH fo'the nine nebin
Aint got no down ass bitch on my side
You know Phonk Beta (what up?)
Down ass bitch on my side.
Just had a brand new baby.
Fo the nine nebin (nebin)
Baby Kevin
Xcaliber Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
It all started when I twisted the lid of the Olde E
And see E-A-R-double-O-E... ... ... (??)
Where my motherfuckering siccmade jacked at
Cuz that's the only one I could use
When I saw you at the war yeah when I lifted you out your shoes
It was the pressure from the twenty game (the twenty game)
Felt like it could split your chest whide open wit it
Well nigga you should when I'm round talkin that shit
Bout the nigga that's my kin-folks
Should knew the wheel while you was givin up that info...
...mation, I'll be of that Parry Mason
When I hit em all up, creep em all up, kill em all up, fill em all up
Real deal, dig a ditch give em hit a licc then take the grip
Put em in the back of the Cadillac show em how my Mini-Mac gonna act
My tactics is lethal
Leave the whole town hella smokey
like that band that steppin over dead people
It's like that, and you wouldn't know it cuz I'ma cool ass mufucca
Then dump on a gang of succas
as I wait for the city to heat up like a Hot Pepper
Gotta whole load fulla Evian
and a trunck fulla FO take no's and I can't let go
Catch you at yo show slippin
Hoes trippin, rows rippin in the street after I heat my heat of
I'm of the hook with this siccmade shit, straight made nigga
Fuck it, pass me the straight lace liquor to the face nigga
Off the Thunder Burger and Kool-Aid and O 8
Easy on the liver still make me kill a nigga
Split you head like a pineapple
Die natural!
Five at your dome send em home in a pinebox
Lift you out your sox
Pay attention to the Glock
Half pass a niggas ass where aimen at the grass take suitcase fulla cash and mash
16 in the clip crumble the urb roll a sliff bout to whatch you brain split in half
Bloody bath watter, infried nigga nuts and bones locaded at home I think him name is Tyrone
But you know...
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
You can call me black Sadam Huseain
Pump St Idees through my wein ass nigga
You can see me on the southside of the street
Man remembered by the ((opposet)) nigga that flod the city
Get ready for some pretty if you sicc like Frank Nitty
Sucked blood from my momas tittie - instead of milk
Played murda muzicc in my tape deck - instead of Silkk
Enden up killen one of them motherfuckers
So fuck them hoes, they like Grim
havin killin niggas like they gots to go
With the 380M - got high til seven
Jump in what you call it headin throughwards heaven, whit my
50 sacc of some shit, that'll make you get there
About 11:30 with your T-shirt dirty,
I'm worthy strapped like James as ventured in this faulty game
In a mainframe, that I bucked in ruff terrain, then hit the plane
15 guts on a tripple beam scale nigga
acual contact from the strap that I hale nigga
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
[Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung]
They got this motherfucker twisted up
And from the sound of the barrle I got hella motherfuckers runnin up
What should I do about these fuckin fleas?
Give em all A-1 and put they seeds in they weed
Figga a way out this nigga I know you got me in file
But I got you on scanner so plan anotha way (anotha way)
Told me it was (?Coda steady?)
But I catch you slippin like pimpin
and shake bankin like (?Trail Leonard?)
Hit your mind workin these swine
tripp time get's deepa as you meat the Grim reapa
in the form of a man double M 24 5 got your brains leaking I'm peakin
That's why these nigga wanna rip keep me
I'm rollin squeeky and what you want call it
witta .45 in my pocket and I'm a young alcoholic
Like P-Folks I had to make it happen
Sacramentos most wanted I gotta keep packin, cuz of that
My favorite cousin just go four years
And when his little brotha died he showed me no tears
your point is you get deep as the ocean
Take a shiesty niggas blood and rub it on like lotion
It was like: once apon a time a long time ago
I was sticken 9 milis in a pussy hole
Get of the Ol 8 old Murda moe then i gotta go to a spot
when they don't know I'm the leath nigga given up my info
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
It all started when I twisted the lid of the Olde E
And see E-A-R-double-O-E... ... ... (??)
Where my motherfuckering siccmade jacked at
Cuz that's the only one I could use
When I saw you at the war yeah when I lifted you out your shoes
It was the pressure from the twenty game (the twenty game)
Felt like it could split your chest whide open wit it
Well nigga you should when I'm round talkin that shit
Bout the nigga that's my kin-folks
Should knew the wheel while you was givin up that info...
...mation, I'll be of that Parry Mason
When I hit em all up, creep em all up, kill em all up, fill em all up
Real deal, dig a ditch give em hit a licc then take the grip
Put em in the back of the Cadillac show em how my Mini-Mac gonna act
My tactics is lethal
Leave the whole town hella smokey
like that band that steppin over dead people
It's like that, and you wouldn't know it cuz I'ma cool ass mufucca
Then dump on a gang of succas
as I wait for the city to heat up like a Hot Pepper
Gotta whole load fulla Evian
and a trunck fulla FO take no's and I can't let go
Catch you at yo show slippin
Hoes trippin, rows rippin in the street after I heat my heat of
I'm of the hook with this siccmade shit, straight made nigga
Fuck it, pass me the straight lace liquor to the face nigga
Off the Thunder Burger and Kool-Aid and O 8
Easy on the liver still make me kill a nigga
Split you head like a pineapple
Die natural!
Five at your dome send em home in a pinebox
Lift you out your sox
Pay attention to the Glock
Half pass a niggas ass where aimen at the grass take suitcase fulla cash and mash
16 in the clip crumble the urb roll a sliff bout to whatch you brain split in half
Bloody bath watter, infried nigga nuts and bones locaded at home I think him name is Tyrone
But you know...
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
You can call me black Sadam Huseain
Pump St Idees through my wein ass nigga
You can see me on the southside of the street
Man remembered by the ((opposet)) nigga that flod the city
Get ready for some pretty if you sicc like Frank Nitty
Sucked blood from my momas tittie - instead of milk
Played murda muzicc in my tape deck - instead of Silkk
Enden up killen one of them motherfuckers
So fuck them hoes, they like Grim
havin killin niggas like they gots to go
With the 380M - got high til seven
Jump in what you call it headin throughwards heaven, whit my
50 sacc of some shit, that'll make you get there
About 11:30 with your T-shirt dirty,
I'm worthy strapped like James as ventured in this faulty game
In a mainframe, that I bucked in ruff terrain, then hit the plane
15 guts on a tripple beam scale nigga
acual contact from the strap that I hale nigga
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
[Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung]
They got this motherfucker twisted up
And from the sound of the barrle I got hella motherfuckers runnin up
What should I do about these fuckin fleas?
Give em all A-1 and put they seeds in they weed
Figga a way out this nigga I know you got me in file
But I got you on scanner so plan anotha way (anotha way)
Told me it was (?Coda steady?)
But I catch you slippin like pimpin
and shake bankin like (?Trail Leonard?)
Hit your mind workin these swine
tripp time get's deepa as you meat the Grim reapa
in the form of a man double M 24 5 got your brains leaking I'm peakin
That's why these nigga wanna rip keep me
I'm rollin squeeky and what you want call it
witta .45 in my pocket and I'm a young alcoholic
Like P-Folks I had to make it happen
Sacramentos most wanted I gotta keep packin, cuz of that
My favorite cousin just go four years
And when his little brotha died he showed me no tears
your point is you get deep as the ocean
Take a shiesty niggas blood and rub it on like lotion
It was like: once apon a time a long time ago
I was sticken 9 milis in a pussy hole
Get of the Ol 8 old Murda moe then i gotta go to a spot
when they don't know I'm the leath nigga given up my info
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup
Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba) [echo]
One Time Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Bad Azz)
[Verse 1:]
Man these wicked streets will drive a nigga insane
The week a cock back and put a pistol to da brain
Weed alcohol nicotine and cocaine
The plot to break us all down to eat
You gotta cheat to break the law down
Fuck em buck em all down
Yall down we can tear this motha fucka up again
Shootin nootin snatchin people out they trucks again
Fuck em den them motha fuckas wanna lock me up again
Have me duck stretched right writin letters home from the pin
Man fuck that id rather be stuck back on my block ssellin rocks wit a glock
Runnin from da cops fuck one time
Grindin in da california sunshine
WHAT am I do get rich bitch fuck money sometimes
Runnin numbas ride the runnas get yo bundles keep it commin when you get it get it get it holla
Money money money
[Chorus:]
Like its one time
Grindin in this california sunshine
From la to da bay to sac town and back downthey can take a bird outa town on a greyhound
Or serve on curb in yah hood nigga stay down
[Repeat 2x]
[Verse 2:]
Block shit we rock shit like cocaine
Hit the mean street trippin and dippin servin up whole thangs
Hotta then a ma fucka
There goes the rival you know the cities too small
Better no I'm liable ill take a strap up in da mall
No bull shit illeagle fo clips
Got that dual shit we be smokin em up you dont know enough its rough
If life was free I would say fuck pussy nigga dont push me
Im an o face killajay for hes even if its bloody I get more cheese
Smokin hella pounds of weed oe fukin up my gut
But I'm as drunk as can be
And eatin raw meat
Reak what you sow
I got that heat that'll make yah cold
Die at 21 nigga
Fuck gettin old
Money tah fold killa
Show shootin ledge hoes
Lick then split dont trust no setup hoes
Where dem clothes
Grindin in this california sunshine
One nine killa for higher fuck money sometimes
[Chorus 2x]
[Verse 3:]
I live a life of a mobsta
Just talkin money eatin lobsta
And life swallows nigga just like a monsta
Ya bones is the proof of death
Investigators later said he dies a spooky death
You dont even wanna hear how they said he died
Just as well as californias home for homicide
We dodge death all dya tryin ta stay paid
And if our rivals dont come then the cops dont raid
So if a nigga aint high you no we drunk as fuck
And if a nigga aint rich hes tryin ta touch a buck
[Chorus 2x]
Man these wicked streets will drive a nigga insane
The week a cock back and put a pistol to da brain
Weed alcohol nicotine and cocaine
The plot to break us all down to eat
You gotta cheat to break the law down
Fuck em buck em all down
Yall down we can tear this motha fucka up again
Shootin nootin snatchin people out they trucks again
Fuck em den them motha fuckas wanna lock me up again
Have me duck stretched right writin letters home from the pin
Man fuck that id rather be stuck back on my block ssellin rocks wit a glock
Runnin from da cops fuck one time
Grindin in da california sunshine
WHAT am I do get rich bitch fuck money sometimes
Runnin numbas ride the runnas get yo bundles keep it commin when you get it get it get it holla
Money money money
[Chorus:]
Like its one time
Grindin in this california sunshine
From la to da bay to sac town and back downthey can take a bird outa town on a greyhound
Or serve on curb in yah hood nigga stay down
[Repeat 2x]
[Verse 2:]
Block shit we rock shit like cocaine
Hit the mean street trippin and dippin servin up whole thangs
Hotta then a ma fucka
There goes the rival you know the cities too small
Better no I'm liable ill take a strap up in da mall
No bull shit illeagle fo clips
Got that dual shit we be smokin em up you dont know enough its rough
If life was free I would say fuck pussy nigga dont push me
Im an o face killajay for hes even if its bloody I get more cheese
Smokin hella pounds of weed oe fukin up my gut
But I'm as drunk as can be
And eatin raw meat
Reak what you sow
I got that heat that'll make yah cold
Die at 21 nigga
Fuck gettin old
Money tah fold killa
Show shootin ledge hoes
Lick then split dont trust no setup hoes
Where dem clothes
Grindin in this california sunshine
One nine killa for higher fuck money sometimes
[Chorus 2x]
[Verse 3:]
I live a life of a mobsta
Just talkin money eatin lobsta
And life swallows nigga just like a monsta
Ya bones is the proof of death
Investigators later said he dies a spooky death
You dont even wanna hear how they said he died
Just as well as californias home for homicide
We dodge death all dya tryin ta stay paid
And if our rivals dont come then the cops dont raid
So if a nigga aint high you no we drunk as fuck
And if a nigga aint rich hes tryin ta touch a buck
[Chorus 2x]
Die: 1 By 1 Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. First Degree The D.E.)
[Chorus x2]
DIE, Like the ones before you
One by one we will take you
Aaahhhhhhggh....you will DIE
(fuck it....psychological)
[Verse 1]
Siccmade music comin up out yo seat
catch the reeper night crawler creeper
dig a ditch get a bitch nigga dig a ditch deeper
I'ma take yo head with this street sweeper
leave yo brains on yo speaker
smash off in yo jeep
do the bitches I'ma get real hostle
get the signal model in stroddle
smash down on the throddle
more scratch than lucky luciano
serve more mutha fuckas than gronnup
creep up on ya like dunnup
send on to ya forehead and then like they said I fled
cause I'm the type of nigga that'll leave a horse head in ya bed
take ya wife rape her no caper
tie the bitch to the bed
don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
real lunatic and sicc-fed
and thats some sentimental shit
I just might drip cream from my dick
when I'm off that
Smirnoff Gin mix with O.E. I'm hard and wet
O.E. kept tellin' me no
but this Smirnoff Gin kept tellin' me YES
mess maker raper
all about my paper
throw yo hands over yo eyes
as yo thoughts intensify yo will (DIE!!!)
[Chorus x2]
[First Degree The DE]
Greetings... have a seat...
let me be the first to actually greet you to the basement
we've heard you've been busy
AHAHA we've heard you've been busy
we've learn from above that you've been
doin' a little bit of this
doin' a little bit of that
stealing peoples scratch
stabbin' in the back
we don't think its FAIR !
when we found you you were nothing
now you are our nothing
is there room for unrest
die.... YOU WILL !!!
[Chorus]
I promise
[Verse 2]
I'm Wes Craven on paper
so plug yo pussy clips
cause I get sicker than a sifilous dick
and yo mama won't like my shit nigga
admit if you was sittin up in yo room hi
loaded up in yo tape deck ready to write yo tape next
me I do hot sex
razor blade and alcohol swarzanigga ceremonial ripsneck
then I write my shit next
so feel yo insides and yo intestins when you mix me wit
the wisky tell'em situation risky wit a nailgun through
yo eye you will
I got this endo suckin me dry
I got this slut bitch suckin me dry
bout to wet the bed up
it was the perfect setup
bloody sheets (bloody sheets)
no body (no body)
no murder weapon
I got this endo suckin me dry
I got this slut bitch suckin me dry
it was the perfect setup
bout to wet the bed up
bloody sheets
no body (no body)
no murder weapon
[Chorus x4]
That's why we die [x8]
That's my name don't wear it out
you don't know about my whereabouts
DIE, Like the ones before you
One by one we will take you
Aaahhhhhhggh....you will DIE
(fuck it....psychological)
[Verse 1]
Siccmade music comin up out yo seat
catch the reeper night crawler creeper
dig a ditch get a bitch nigga dig a ditch deeper
I'ma take yo head with this street sweeper
leave yo brains on yo speaker
smash off in yo jeep
do the bitches I'ma get real hostle
get the signal model in stroddle
smash down on the throddle
more scratch than lucky luciano
serve more mutha fuckas than gronnup
creep up on ya like dunnup
send on to ya forehead and then like they said I fled
cause I'm the type of nigga that'll leave a horse head in ya bed
take ya wife rape her no caper
tie the bitch to the bed
don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
real lunatic and sicc-fed
and thats some sentimental shit
I just might drip cream from my dick
when I'm off that
Smirnoff Gin mix with O.E. I'm hard and wet
O.E. kept tellin' me no
but this Smirnoff Gin kept tellin' me YES
mess maker raper
all about my paper
throw yo hands over yo eyes
as yo thoughts intensify yo will (DIE!!!)
[Chorus x2]
[First Degree The DE]
Greetings... have a seat...
let me be the first to actually greet you to the basement
we've heard you've been busy
AHAHA we've heard you've been busy
we've learn from above that you've been
doin' a little bit of this
doin' a little bit of that
stealing peoples scratch
stabbin' in the back
we don't think its FAIR !
when we found you you were nothing
now you are our nothing
is there room for unrest
die.... YOU WILL !!!
[Chorus]
I promise
[Verse 2]
I'm Wes Craven on paper
so plug yo pussy clips
cause I get sicker than a sifilous dick
and yo mama won't like my shit nigga
admit if you was sittin up in yo room hi
loaded up in yo tape deck ready to write yo tape next
me I do hot sex
razor blade and alcohol swarzanigga ceremonial ripsneck
then I write my shit next
so feel yo insides and yo intestins when you mix me wit
the wisky tell'em situation risky wit a nailgun through
yo eye you will
I got this endo suckin me dry
I got this slut bitch suckin me dry
bout to wet the bed up
it was the perfect setup
bloody sheets (bloody sheets)
no body (no body)
no murder weapon
I got this endo suckin me dry
I got this slut bitch suckin me dry
it was the perfect setup
bout to wet the bed up
bloody sheets
no body (no body)
no murder weapon
[Chorus x4]
That's why we die [x8]
That's my name don't wear it out
you don't know about my whereabouts
One A Da Las Sicc Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. First Degree The D.E.)
[Verse 1]
I'm one of the last sicc niggas that you herd thus far
you can bump me at your crib but while you off that nitro in your car
so I don't have to say that I'ma super star
but if you get high than you can feel me no matter who you are
well I got medevil but I had to leave'em weak niggas alone
situation dirty skweaky clean brotha lynch hung
That's right I gots to have my weed lord knows I'ma feind
bitch nigga don't respect me 45 for the peicsh nigga please
I been spendin "G's" hold up nigga freeze
come up off that weed cause you den fucked around and went up on me
I want the whole zip lock full of shamrock
and if you ditch it in yo pocket I'ma heat the heat and leave you in a meat lock
now thats my knock heats to the side wit the mask on
I'ma give you 15 percent so if you need to get yo blast on
and that's a fat zone thats's a good start
you can sac off in the sevice take it to the heart
I'ma lil nigga thinkin big
cut off yo nuts and leave you screamin like a starved pig
hold you hostage in yo crib
plan the whole stuation out so I got first dibs
now bigga than life is how I comin out
rigorous and vigorous you niggas know what I'm talkin bout
I want cheese and lettuce in my wallet so fetish
and I'ma gonna break through like Jerome Bettis pro status
all this time I got ryhme on my mind every dime
I spend it on some weed and some studio time
drink O-E out the mickeys big mouth
my point is I be in the cut trying to keep these snakes out my house
[Brotha Lynch Hung talking]
You know I push I push play on brain one day
and it played back some shit some shit containing (some shit containing)
snakes (snakes)
I mean talk to me (serpants)
[Verse 2]
I'm one of the last sicc niggas that you herd thus far
you can bump me at your crib but while you off that nitro in your car
so I don't have to say that I'ma super star
but if you get high than you can feel me no matter who you are
nigga now I shit lyrics but I can't use'em
have yo son trippin Brotha Lynch Hungs loopin (loopin)
they be off that bottle talkin bout Brotha Lynch be talkin bout
sicc shit I herd he ate his mama out
now how this motherfucker gone write some shit bout the Brotha Lynch Hung
cause he killin in his song
he say that nigga shit tight but he ain't shit
he say god is my witness I herd he fuck them bitches
which is suppose to be wrong criticizin my love song
you get the rope fuckin wit the Brotha Lynch Hung
wrong information make atemadation
catch you on yo weed high (catch you on yo weed high)
tow you up like a pitch been
feelin dick hard when you betta get yo bitched in it gets thin
and I'm off this Black &Mild shit
Tall Cannon told me its smooth and now I'm buyin boxes of it
tryin to relax and deal wit these taxes
cause they be at my checks wit them axes twenty sac's
in the back seat I'm licenseless
hope motherfuckin baby mama ain't no shisty bitch
she wanna publish ah-ight thats cool
she want some other shit get that hydro tube
niggas always think I talk about'em because I talk shit
My worst nightmare was killin my bitch for tryin to get my grits
I'm like Marc Spits I swim a channel for my shit
and watch your heart split I'm doing damage to yo bitch (doing damage to yo Bee-yotch)
and whlie your heart switch
you betta remember where you came from bitch
[First Degree The D.E.]
Know what I'm saying can't even get caught up-nitro hit
staring at the holic til they got'em on sicc
is ya'll niggas really even listening
for real doe is ya'll niggas even really listening
whatever the fuck whatever the fuck
I'm one of the last sicc niggas that you herd thus far
you can bump me at your crib but while you off that nitro in your car
so I don't have to say that I'ma super star
but if you get high than you can feel me no matter who you are
well I got medevil but I had to leave'em weak niggas alone
situation dirty skweaky clean brotha lynch hung
That's right I gots to have my weed lord knows I'ma feind
bitch nigga don't respect me 45 for the peicsh nigga please
I been spendin "G's" hold up nigga freeze
come up off that weed cause you den fucked around and went up on me
I want the whole zip lock full of shamrock
and if you ditch it in yo pocket I'ma heat the heat and leave you in a meat lock
now thats my knock heats to the side wit the mask on
I'ma give you 15 percent so if you need to get yo blast on
and that's a fat zone thats's a good start
you can sac off in the sevice take it to the heart
I'ma lil nigga thinkin big
cut off yo nuts and leave you screamin like a starved pig
hold you hostage in yo crib
plan the whole stuation out so I got first dibs
now bigga than life is how I comin out
rigorous and vigorous you niggas know what I'm talkin bout
I want cheese and lettuce in my wallet so fetish
and I'ma gonna break through like Jerome Bettis pro status
all this time I got ryhme on my mind every dime
I spend it on some weed and some studio time
drink O-E out the mickeys big mouth
my point is I be in the cut trying to keep these snakes out my house
[Brotha Lynch Hung talking]
You know I push I push play on brain one day
and it played back some shit some shit containing (some shit containing)
snakes (snakes)
I mean talk to me (serpants)
[Verse 2]
I'm one of the last sicc niggas that you herd thus far
you can bump me at your crib but while you off that nitro in your car
so I don't have to say that I'ma super star
but if you get high than you can feel me no matter who you are
nigga now I shit lyrics but I can't use'em
have yo son trippin Brotha Lynch Hungs loopin (loopin)
they be off that bottle talkin bout Brotha Lynch be talkin bout
sicc shit I herd he ate his mama out
now how this motherfucker gone write some shit bout the Brotha Lynch Hung
cause he killin in his song
he say that nigga shit tight but he ain't shit
he say god is my witness I herd he fuck them bitches
which is suppose to be wrong criticizin my love song
you get the rope fuckin wit the Brotha Lynch Hung
wrong information make atemadation
catch you on yo weed high (catch you on yo weed high)
tow you up like a pitch been
feelin dick hard when you betta get yo bitched in it gets thin
and I'm off this Black &Mild shit
Tall Cannon told me its smooth and now I'm buyin boxes of it
tryin to relax and deal wit these taxes
cause they be at my checks wit them axes twenty sac's
in the back seat I'm licenseless
hope motherfuckin baby mama ain't no shisty bitch
she wanna publish ah-ight thats cool
she want some other shit get that hydro tube
niggas always think I talk about'em because I talk shit
My worst nightmare was killin my bitch for tryin to get my grits
I'm like Marc Spits I swim a channel for my shit
and watch your heart split I'm doing damage to yo bitch (doing damage to yo Bee-yotch)
and whlie your heart switch
you betta remember where you came from bitch
[First Degree The D.E.]
Know what I'm saying can't even get caught up-nitro hit
staring at the holic til they got'em on sicc
is ya'll niggas really even listening
for real doe is ya'll niggas even really listening
whatever the fuck whatever the fuck
Situation Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. E-40, First Degree, Twamp Dog)
[Lynch:]
The only one who ever saw my face, I must erase, had to get filthy dirty
Left him in his driveway soaking wet, hope nobody heard me
I'm out that muthafucka with about 4 pounds of that Shamrock
Zip lock, body bag, toe tag, wet T-shirt, black mask
In and out fast, murderous, vast vigorous
Stroke that nigga like a zig zag rolled cigarette,
and I do it to get my dick wet
Brain grain rotten, I was a 12 year old gettin' raped by my momma's partner
So I've been in pussy since I could start nuttin'
I'm off that Cloraseptic and that Robatussin
Had a appetite for the wrong nigga, said he was real meat but I knew he wasn't
Had me dumpin' out the back of Cadillac's on Walter
Got a stinky smell to him, can't even hug my momma
I'm so sick I can't sleep at night, might swallow my tongue
Get all the gas deposits out the closet, let the water run
Get the flame thrower, lighter fluid, paper plates, cuz we barbacuin'
In a funky situation that's how we do it
[Chorus:]
Situation, baby it seems I'm in a situation again
I fuckin' realize it's a situation of sin
Sometimes I just wanna stop tryin'
Why must this shit always involve dying?
[E-40:]
Runnin' shit like Sosza, Big Bank Hank
Smebbin' in a high performance zooped up Nova, pushin' crank
Callin' shots on my gossipper, faulty chip
1-800 locker number, on the left side of my hip
Neighborhood watch better watch that ass
I'm a paperboy and I collects that cash
One more muthafuckin' complaint and your ass ain't gon' last
On a block where I clock cash so fast
This is a stick up, nigga, don't even try it
If you go as far as to blink an eye, muthafucka you gon' die
Pressure I apply, no lie, I got just finished doin' 10
For what? For killin' my best friend
And I'll murder again if I'm forced, then I must
After the first time the second time was a rush
What about the third time? The third time felt like sex
What kind of guns did you use? Choppers, Uzis, Teks
Whatever one works best
I'll make a mess upon shooting flesh, 'bout 15 holes in his chest
Vandalism, taggin' all muthafuckas names on the wall
Scandalism, dyin' over all kinds of senseless shit that's small
Auto theft, stealin' cars for fun
Snatchin' purses cuz I'm young and dumb
If you a tourist check yo' map, don't make the wrong turn
Might end up in the hood where you gon' be learnin'
[CHORUS]
[First Degree:]
Rock it, don't stop it, rock it, don't stop
I got this dirty yemp distributin' my womp
But if it was up to her, fool we'd be fuckin' like beavers
But I'm an over achiever around these heaters
I don't need a bitch, society done fucked up and cheated that bitch
Now she lookin' for a nigga like me to feed her and shit
Dumb bitch better quit, that muthafucka First Degree keep a leash on his dick
Take notes, sit by the poor folks, I tell you 'bout my strokes
But I done been gave that up, ain't healthy no more
Cuz a this yappin' and feelin', she strapped with the homies
And her weak mind got all of Sacramento in a bind
Lizzy Ann must die, the situation just ain't right
Cuz she got to bumpin' her gums like her momma, so I called her
I said I got mines, get off your ass and raise your daughter
[Twamp Dog:]
Peniles at my door, three in the front, nigga, four through the back
Talkin' bout takin' me down to the Sac town county jail,
strapped up cuz I did a jack
Armed and dangerous, waited 6 months to come and get me
Knowin' I'm into straps, cuz every time I get caught one was sittin' with me
2 time before this, now add one more to the program quick
Shackled down, now I'm on a mission to a one man cell with the quickness
Think about the work that I did that night and what went wrong,
to get a rider caught
30G bail cost to get me off, fightin' on the street, fuckin' watched
Every 2 weeks another court date, thinkin' I can win, that's no lie
Kept on goin' on for some months, lookin' the judge right in the eyes
Feelin' his anger,
watched fools before me do petty crimes and he's givin' 'em time
Bein' a bitch about muggin' on me, nigga talkin' shit to me, heated like
Pointing guns at individuals, huh, I despise muthafuckas like you
So it ain't no love for me judgin' you, watcha gon' do?
Take it to another court room?
And that's the first step for me, my lawyer knew the D.A.
You know, so he tried to hook a brother up, you see
If I did take a deal, it's only one year guaranteed
But I'm bout to give work for dough in a couple more weeks
Tryin' to give 10 years, if I go to trial and lose the muthafucka
Then I messed around and had to go back to the first judge,
sayin' don't work for ya
I wasn't gettin' off that easy, my case had a little substance
And the odds are stacked against me, no frontin'
Choices need to be made on the 7th
A catch 22 in my midst, cuz either way I'm fucked
Go to trial where I'll probably lose, or take my ass on the run
Or take a deal to a lesser charge, either one I'm gettin' struck
Cuz doin' time is a mando thang and that got a muthafucka stuck
[CHORUS]
The only one who ever saw my face, I must erase, had to get filthy dirty
Left him in his driveway soaking wet, hope nobody heard me
I'm out that muthafucka with about 4 pounds of that Shamrock
Zip lock, body bag, toe tag, wet T-shirt, black mask
In and out fast, murderous, vast vigorous
Stroke that nigga like a zig zag rolled cigarette,
and I do it to get my dick wet
Brain grain rotten, I was a 12 year old gettin' raped by my momma's partner
So I've been in pussy since I could start nuttin'
I'm off that Cloraseptic and that Robatussin
Had a appetite for the wrong nigga, said he was real meat but I knew he wasn't
Had me dumpin' out the back of Cadillac's on Walter
Got a stinky smell to him, can't even hug my momma
I'm so sick I can't sleep at night, might swallow my tongue
Get all the gas deposits out the closet, let the water run
Get the flame thrower, lighter fluid, paper plates, cuz we barbacuin'
In a funky situation that's how we do it
[Chorus:]
Situation, baby it seems I'm in a situation again
I fuckin' realize it's a situation of sin
Sometimes I just wanna stop tryin'
Why must this shit always involve dying?
[E-40:]
Runnin' shit like Sosza, Big Bank Hank
Smebbin' in a high performance zooped up Nova, pushin' crank
Callin' shots on my gossipper, faulty chip
1-800 locker number, on the left side of my hip
Neighborhood watch better watch that ass
I'm a paperboy and I collects that cash
One more muthafuckin' complaint and your ass ain't gon' last
On a block where I clock cash so fast
This is a stick up, nigga, don't even try it
If you go as far as to blink an eye, muthafucka you gon' die
Pressure I apply, no lie, I got just finished doin' 10
For what? For killin' my best friend
And I'll murder again if I'm forced, then I must
After the first time the second time was a rush
What about the third time? The third time felt like sex
What kind of guns did you use? Choppers, Uzis, Teks
Whatever one works best
I'll make a mess upon shooting flesh, 'bout 15 holes in his chest
Vandalism, taggin' all muthafuckas names on the wall
Scandalism, dyin' over all kinds of senseless shit that's small
Auto theft, stealin' cars for fun
Snatchin' purses cuz I'm young and dumb
If you a tourist check yo' map, don't make the wrong turn
Might end up in the hood where you gon' be learnin'
[CHORUS]
[First Degree:]
Rock it, don't stop it, rock it, don't stop
I got this dirty yemp distributin' my womp
But if it was up to her, fool we'd be fuckin' like beavers
But I'm an over achiever around these heaters
I don't need a bitch, society done fucked up and cheated that bitch
Now she lookin' for a nigga like me to feed her and shit
Dumb bitch better quit, that muthafucka First Degree keep a leash on his dick
Take notes, sit by the poor folks, I tell you 'bout my strokes
But I done been gave that up, ain't healthy no more
Cuz a this yappin' and feelin', she strapped with the homies
And her weak mind got all of Sacramento in a bind
Lizzy Ann must die, the situation just ain't right
Cuz she got to bumpin' her gums like her momma, so I called her
I said I got mines, get off your ass and raise your daughter
[Twamp Dog:]
Peniles at my door, three in the front, nigga, four through the back
Talkin' bout takin' me down to the Sac town county jail,
strapped up cuz I did a jack
Armed and dangerous, waited 6 months to come and get me
Knowin' I'm into straps, cuz every time I get caught one was sittin' with me
2 time before this, now add one more to the program quick
Shackled down, now I'm on a mission to a one man cell with the quickness
Think about the work that I did that night and what went wrong,
to get a rider caught
30G bail cost to get me off, fightin' on the street, fuckin' watched
Every 2 weeks another court date, thinkin' I can win, that's no lie
Kept on goin' on for some months, lookin' the judge right in the eyes
Feelin' his anger,
watched fools before me do petty crimes and he's givin' 'em time
Bein' a bitch about muggin' on me, nigga talkin' shit to me, heated like
Pointing guns at individuals, huh, I despise muthafuckas like you
So it ain't no love for me judgin' you, watcha gon' do?
Take it to another court room?
And that's the first step for me, my lawyer knew the D.A.
You know, so he tried to hook a brother up, you see
If I did take a deal, it's only one year guaranteed
But I'm bout to give work for dough in a couple more weeks
Tryin' to give 10 years, if I go to trial and lose the muthafucka
Then I messed around and had to go back to the first judge,
sayin' don't work for ya
I wasn't gettin' off that easy, my case had a little substance
And the odds are stacked against me, no frontin'
Choices need to be made on the 7th
A catch 22 in my midst, cuz either way I'm fucked
Go to trial where I'll probably lose, or take my ass on the run
Or take a deal to a lesser charge, either one I'm gettin' struck
Cuz doin' time is a mando thang and that got a muthafucka stuck
[CHORUS]
Heataz Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. First Degree, Polo, P-Folk)
[First Degree:]
The evil that men do got me servin' heaters
Morphin' them body bleeders into believers
Had these bitches bringin' me cleavage and cannibis-sativa
Big leaguers, wide receivers, we quivers off malt liters
So lead us to the cheap shit, got more close so I could reach it
Need it in the jungle, humble man gone too soon, wasn't ready for the rumble
So I disperse my seasoning, pleasing when I get to reasoning
Like soul cleaner, when did it, when did it get to heatin' up?
Fuck, fuck, another fuck, fuck the bitch and they stuck
Fuck till they brains stuffed, then changed they demeanor,
after sticking in vagina
Turn a perfect stranger into my part time personal rump ranger
Workin' the night shift, temporary employment, ya mind says fight it
But your emotions is delighted,
and thats what runs you sensitive bitches and niggas
Get ran for a loop, my heat is a muthafuck, First Degree
Oh First Degree so bound to the city,
sittin' high lookin' down next up to the climax
Stayin' deliciously loaded, quit my fry, Mr. Hot burnin' flesh
Got that THC marinatin' in my chest, that stays I guess
So I'm approachin' this light shit, and heatin' it beautiful
I'ma tokin' this wide stick, hittin' plentiful
Huh, huh, huh, tryna make my dollar
[Polo:]
I got somethin' for your mask
This shit here is hard to swallow
Could be hazardous to your health
Fully equipped to leave your insides hollow
Ziplock lips and listen
I'm on a mission, switchin' positions
In case of accidental consumption
Dilute with 2 cups of milk and contact your physician
Heated and hanged, who am I? Trigger Man, suspect number one
I let loose, do not induce vomiting, or you throwing up your lung
Dialing 9-1-1, it's flammable, uncontainable
You die by the superfly when I spy, flip and grip, changeable
Specially formulated to have all costs regulated
And also the ones that participated in playing bitch games,
and plain playa hatin'
5 foot 6", sick hogg and all about mines
Dead bodies don't talk, kill 'em, tape and chalk
So if you fall short....flatline
Nigga, when you near give me adequate ventilation
Avoid physical contact and inhalation
Facial premeditation can lead to skin and eye irritation
Does that exlude a bitch, Boot town boot up, shoot up shit
Never water based, straight laced to your face
With no nurse or first aid chase, no after taste
Now brace yourself for the hand that rocks the cradle
Nigga them conversations lead to sticky situations that sometimes turn fatal
Hogg translation: Blew yay up straight with this heated association
Illustrations,
picture yourself in a body bag wearin' them closed casket decorations
I got a house full of heaters and liters of gas to light up that ass
And it's mandatory, too short for long conversation
No pre-animation, no nuts, no glory, no witness, no story
Makin' derogatory statements with my stainless
Slugs with names signed in blood, individuals stuffed up the anus
Dangerous, aimin' for your body
Almost definitely pull that for hand to hand combat karate
It's some a that southern young fool
[P-Folk:]
Now what's up? I look in the rearview mirror
Chevy Astro van's suspicious
Usin' my brain, beware of the game
Suspects might be thinkin' I'm fakin'
It's a habit to be caught with and without
Reachin' up under my seat to grab my piece
And the chamber done gauged a round
Turn a beat down, put it in first gear, slow pace
Thinkin' that I might be paranoid
Effects from the filthy re-chronic blunt that I just smoked with my boys
Sped ahead, hogg check, all red til' I'm dead
And I'll be damned if these niggas try to make me, P-Folk, brake bread
I'm tied up to it, I'm dread,
like it said 'you live by the sword, you die by the sword'
These niggas don't know they got a one way ticket home to the Lord
So bullets will spray, be up and out the situation
And since it's a jack move, my objective is I gotta take 'em
Roll 'em outta the mainstream
How they warped thinkin' they been ejected all up in my section
Make a left down El Cord, toward northern direction
Viewer discretion, preparation for a justified homicide
These niggas know they ain't no friend of mine, (check they self)
Caught up at a red light
Grippin' this trilli, thug from Hollis with nuthin' to prove
Come here ruge, enemies hoppin' up out the low, P-Folks refuse to lose
Split ones wig with the zig, evidently he didn't see my third eye
The second suspect tried to hit P-Folk from the blind side
Exchangin' round for round, look like a match, the lead sped out the strap
One enemy down, two enemies gone, hollow point penetration to the back
The villain defeated, the driver retreated and his partna leaded
Jack got cracked in the mask, for sho' I'm heated
[Lynch:]
They told me to get my heat, so I got mine
Them muthafuckas done made they hit
Now we only got the mini Mack in the trunk, sawed off pump and the .45th
Confident that we handle funk like muthafuckin' g's
So all you bitches and snitches get ditches when my trigger finger itches
It's viscous, for some reason I'm still in that season
All them other muthafuckas done left, smother muthafuckas to death
Other muthafuckas done slept long
Hit off the kryptonite and get gone
Hit 'em up two in the dome, visit your funeral home alone
Had love for them once when this shit got grim
Killin' me softly, it's costly, check the chin, hit the Henn and then bend
One dial 1-800 Old Gold
And you picture me surrounded by fifty pounds of brown meat
Grade A beef, it ain't cheap
I got that shit that'll make them weak minds upchuck
Upchuck your guts and I'll have your nuts, wassup?
You was locked down, so I fucked your bitch
Gave you that syphilis dick, looped the music, made slick throats slit
Trump tight murder on sight, split ya dome, hit ya home at night
Move in the dark with infer-red light
You die, then I'ma do your wife
I'ma leave you hangin' on your doorstep
Have your wife ass butt naked, razor blade razed from the ass to the neck
The evil that men do got me servin' heaters
Morphin' them body bleeders into believers
Had these bitches bringin' me cleavage and cannibis-sativa
Big leaguers, wide receivers, we quivers off malt liters
So lead us to the cheap shit, got more close so I could reach it
Need it in the jungle, humble man gone too soon, wasn't ready for the rumble
So I disperse my seasoning, pleasing when I get to reasoning
Like soul cleaner, when did it, when did it get to heatin' up?
Fuck, fuck, another fuck, fuck the bitch and they stuck
Fuck till they brains stuffed, then changed they demeanor,
after sticking in vagina
Turn a perfect stranger into my part time personal rump ranger
Workin' the night shift, temporary employment, ya mind says fight it
But your emotions is delighted,
and thats what runs you sensitive bitches and niggas
Get ran for a loop, my heat is a muthafuck, First Degree
Oh First Degree so bound to the city,
sittin' high lookin' down next up to the climax
Stayin' deliciously loaded, quit my fry, Mr. Hot burnin' flesh
Got that THC marinatin' in my chest, that stays I guess
So I'm approachin' this light shit, and heatin' it beautiful
I'ma tokin' this wide stick, hittin' plentiful
Huh, huh, huh, tryna make my dollar
[Polo:]
I got somethin' for your mask
This shit here is hard to swallow
Could be hazardous to your health
Fully equipped to leave your insides hollow
Ziplock lips and listen
I'm on a mission, switchin' positions
In case of accidental consumption
Dilute with 2 cups of milk and contact your physician
Heated and hanged, who am I? Trigger Man, suspect number one
I let loose, do not induce vomiting, or you throwing up your lung
Dialing 9-1-1, it's flammable, uncontainable
You die by the superfly when I spy, flip and grip, changeable
Specially formulated to have all costs regulated
And also the ones that participated in playing bitch games,
and plain playa hatin'
5 foot 6", sick hogg and all about mines
Dead bodies don't talk, kill 'em, tape and chalk
So if you fall short....flatline
Nigga, when you near give me adequate ventilation
Avoid physical contact and inhalation
Facial premeditation can lead to skin and eye irritation
Does that exlude a bitch, Boot town boot up, shoot up shit
Never water based, straight laced to your face
With no nurse or first aid chase, no after taste
Now brace yourself for the hand that rocks the cradle
Nigga them conversations lead to sticky situations that sometimes turn fatal
Hogg translation: Blew yay up straight with this heated association
Illustrations,
picture yourself in a body bag wearin' them closed casket decorations
I got a house full of heaters and liters of gas to light up that ass
And it's mandatory, too short for long conversation
No pre-animation, no nuts, no glory, no witness, no story
Makin' derogatory statements with my stainless
Slugs with names signed in blood, individuals stuffed up the anus
Dangerous, aimin' for your body
Almost definitely pull that for hand to hand combat karate
It's some a that southern young fool
[P-Folk:]
Now what's up? I look in the rearview mirror
Chevy Astro van's suspicious
Usin' my brain, beware of the game
Suspects might be thinkin' I'm fakin'
It's a habit to be caught with and without
Reachin' up under my seat to grab my piece
And the chamber done gauged a round
Turn a beat down, put it in first gear, slow pace
Thinkin' that I might be paranoid
Effects from the filthy re-chronic blunt that I just smoked with my boys
Sped ahead, hogg check, all red til' I'm dead
And I'll be damned if these niggas try to make me, P-Folk, brake bread
I'm tied up to it, I'm dread,
like it said 'you live by the sword, you die by the sword'
These niggas don't know they got a one way ticket home to the Lord
So bullets will spray, be up and out the situation
And since it's a jack move, my objective is I gotta take 'em
Roll 'em outta the mainstream
How they warped thinkin' they been ejected all up in my section
Make a left down El Cord, toward northern direction
Viewer discretion, preparation for a justified homicide
These niggas know they ain't no friend of mine, (check they self)
Caught up at a red light
Grippin' this trilli, thug from Hollis with nuthin' to prove
Come here ruge, enemies hoppin' up out the low, P-Folks refuse to lose
Split ones wig with the zig, evidently he didn't see my third eye
The second suspect tried to hit P-Folk from the blind side
Exchangin' round for round, look like a match, the lead sped out the strap
One enemy down, two enemies gone, hollow point penetration to the back
The villain defeated, the driver retreated and his partna leaded
Jack got cracked in the mask, for sho' I'm heated
[Lynch:]
They told me to get my heat, so I got mine
Them muthafuckas done made they hit
Now we only got the mini Mack in the trunk, sawed off pump and the .45th
Confident that we handle funk like muthafuckin' g's
So all you bitches and snitches get ditches when my trigger finger itches
It's viscous, for some reason I'm still in that season
All them other muthafuckas done left, smother muthafuckas to death
Other muthafuckas done slept long
Hit off the kryptonite and get gone
Hit 'em up two in the dome, visit your funeral home alone
Had love for them once when this shit got grim
Killin' me softly, it's costly, check the chin, hit the Henn and then bend
One dial 1-800 Old Gold
And you picture me surrounded by fifty pounds of brown meat
Grade A beef, it ain't cheap
I got that shit that'll make them weak minds upchuck
Upchuck your guts and I'll have your nuts, wassup?
You was locked down, so I fucked your bitch
Gave you that syphilis dick, looped the music, made slick throats slit
Trump tight murder on sight, split ya dome, hit ya home at night
Move in the dark with infer-red light
You die, then I'ma do your wife
I'ma leave you hangin' on your doorstep
Have your wife ass butt naked, razor blade razed from the ass to the neck
Did It And Did It Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Phonk Beta)
[Lynch:]
I feel my nut sacs loadin' up
Get off the freeway at Broadway with saccage like a muthafucka
Gots to parlay, I was off that Alize like everyday
I was on stuck, hoes ain't shit
So I fucked that bitch in the back of the cut and got the fuck up
Saw my nigga Phonk Beta, picked him up
He had a fat sac of bomb and a blunt, I was like 'roll it up'
Now I'm twisted, with a pit's grip on the Alize
And two miles away from a top notch I met the other day
Groom yourself, I'm on my way over
In my brother's cocaine white Nova
Shift kit, high rise intake, man, a 4-3-50 motor
Now you know this wasn't no bitch
She had a nigga nuttin' quick and she could suck a good dick
I was all up in it, situation was faulty
Had to report back to the captain, and she told him she never saw me
No matter what you saw about that hoe
She said 'meet me at the mo-mo' and she told you she didn't go
[Chorus:]
Once upon a time, once upon a time
And we did it, and we did it
Once upon a time, once upon a time
And she said it was cool
[Phonk Beta:]
Cuz she's a bitch, whatever would I love a hoe for?
I bust a nut and then I'ma cut right out the back door
Didn't know she had a funky rotten pussy
They could be strapped at the sideshow, check it out
Nowadays you better be strapped before you tap that ass
If not she'll have you pissin' out broken glass
Ain't that a bitch, she got you stuck with a shot in the butt
Was it really worth a nut? Check it out
What about that dummy, that one that got hooked on marijuana
Got her budded, and she nutted, we both was in the sauna
One nigga mobbed to the store for ya Donna
Well clean the wax out ya ears and hear the drama
Cuz I'ma tell it the way it couldn't be told,
sold it the way it couldn't be sold
Nigga who you talkin' bout? Bout these young sweet hoes
So tick tock, it don't stop the hustle
Donna went down lip locked on my love muscle
I'm JB the Beta manipulator, let me begin
If my dick is in your mouth then my balls is on your chin
Balls is on your chin, the pubic hairs is up your nose
I'm that nigga that gives and you that nigga that blows
[CHORUS]
[Brotha Lynch:]
Around the corner from me
Light skinned, packed, she stood
Muggin' like a maniac in a straight jacket
It was on and crackin'
Knowin' I shouldn't be late night fuckin' with that shit
But I was off this Perry Mason bout to act like Jason
It was Friday the 13th, my day to work meat
A pack of Blacks, and a half a 20 sac of the Thai and some O.E.
You know me, I fuck long and nut long
Hit you in the face with some of that silky,
hot and sicc and make you mind strong
Grab your knees and let me lean back
I'ma grip your clit with my lips
And motivate, coordinate 'g' shit
Speak Japanese up in your shit
Watch it all ease up out your shit
And we did it, and did it, and did it......
[CHORUS]
I feel my nut sacs loadin' up
Get off the freeway at Broadway with saccage like a muthafucka
Gots to parlay, I was off that Alize like everyday
I was on stuck, hoes ain't shit
So I fucked that bitch in the back of the cut and got the fuck up
Saw my nigga Phonk Beta, picked him up
He had a fat sac of bomb and a blunt, I was like 'roll it up'
Now I'm twisted, with a pit's grip on the Alize
And two miles away from a top notch I met the other day
Groom yourself, I'm on my way over
In my brother's cocaine white Nova
Shift kit, high rise intake, man, a 4-3-50 motor
Now you know this wasn't no bitch
She had a nigga nuttin' quick and she could suck a good dick
I was all up in it, situation was faulty
Had to report back to the captain, and she told him she never saw me
No matter what you saw about that hoe
She said 'meet me at the mo-mo' and she told you she didn't go
[Chorus:]
Once upon a time, once upon a time
And we did it, and we did it
Once upon a time, once upon a time
And she said it was cool
[Phonk Beta:]
Cuz she's a bitch, whatever would I love a hoe for?
I bust a nut and then I'ma cut right out the back door
Didn't know she had a funky rotten pussy
They could be strapped at the sideshow, check it out
Nowadays you better be strapped before you tap that ass
If not she'll have you pissin' out broken glass
Ain't that a bitch, she got you stuck with a shot in the butt
Was it really worth a nut? Check it out
What about that dummy, that one that got hooked on marijuana
Got her budded, and she nutted, we both was in the sauna
One nigga mobbed to the store for ya Donna
Well clean the wax out ya ears and hear the drama
Cuz I'ma tell it the way it couldn't be told,
sold it the way it couldn't be sold
Nigga who you talkin' bout? Bout these young sweet hoes
So tick tock, it don't stop the hustle
Donna went down lip locked on my love muscle
I'm JB the Beta manipulator, let me begin
If my dick is in your mouth then my balls is on your chin
Balls is on your chin, the pubic hairs is up your nose
I'm that nigga that gives and you that nigga that blows
[CHORUS]
[Brotha Lynch:]
Around the corner from me
Light skinned, packed, she stood
Muggin' like a maniac in a straight jacket
It was on and crackin'
Knowin' I shouldn't be late night fuckin' with that shit
But I was off this Perry Mason bout to act like Jason
It was Friday the 13th, my day to work meat
A pack of Blacks, and a half a 20 sac of the Thai and some O.E.
You know me, I fuck long and nut long
Hit you in the face with some of that silky,
hot and sicc and make you mind strong
Grab your knees and let me lean back
I'ma grip your clit with my lips
And motivate, coordinate 'g' shit
Speak Japanese up in your shit
Watch it all ease up out your shit
And we did it, and did it, and did it......
[CHORUS]
Went Way Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
Two years ago, a friend of mine
told me to write me a tight ass rhyme
and so I, I wrote this rhyme that I am about to say
the rhyme is tight and it went this way
And I'm on my briefcase wit some crumbled weed
shystie niggas keep staring at me
I had my 45 and my 44
i put one on my briefcase so them niggas'll know
lives get took
that's it just like a book
do you want a meathook
smoke a fat blunt on my couch wit my feet up while you get took
fo yo skrill
hundred dolla bill
take yo pill muthafucka
while you bullshitin dis shit is real
i ain't no twelve inch
can't mix me up in this shit
i got full clips
and alone i do my shit
so trust me you information faulty
and i wouldn't eat you cause your meat's too salty
i'd rather, step through a fire ring wit some gasoline draws than fuck wit you
cause you the type of nigga that'll tell'em everything you saw, wit my
big bad forty auto mag
twenty sac nigga get yo money back if you don't think you of that sliznack
motivated, totally undominated
i got that sickness and the remedy, my momma made it
easy fo me i didn't have to work
fourteen years old in the backseat drinkin o.e. like kirk
now just the other day a friend of mine
told me to write me a tight ass rhyme
and so i, i wrote this ryhme that i'm about to say
the rhyme is tight and it went this way
i know it's been a long time, i shouldn't left you
without a tight rhyme to step to
think of all them weak ass albums you slept through
well i'm yo medicine, sorry i kept you
went to my brother's house, without a doubt
twisted one up with the nigga, smoked'em out
got to writin some of dat sicc made my own bacc fade type script
high enough to write a whole career full of shit
i mean blitzed, toe up, drug cost up, ready to fuck, throw up
man i got my cheddah cheese ass nigga know what
i don't hold no grudges i just ain't fuckin wit you no mo, mission stay
sicc made and don't let nothin penetrate my barracade
barracade barracade barracade, barracade
told me to write me a tight ass rhyme
and so I, I wrote this rhyme that I am about to say
the rhyme is tight and it went this way
And I'm on my briefcase wit some crumbled weed
shystie niggas keep staring at me
I had my 45 and my 44
i put one on my briefcase so them niggas'll know
lives get took
that's it just like a book
do you want a meathook
smoke a fat blunt on my couch wit my feet up while you get took
fo yo skrill
hundred dolla bill
take yo pill muthafucka
while you bullshitin dis shit is real
i ain't no twelve inch
can't mix me up in this shit
i got full clips
and alone i do my shit
so trust me you information faulty
and i wouldn't eat you cause your meat's too salty
i'd rather, step through a fire ring wit some gasoline draws than fuck wit you
cause you the type of nigga that'll tell'em everything you saw, wit my
big bad forty auto mag
twenty sac nigga get yo money back if you don't think you of that sliznack
motivated, totally undominated
i got that sickness and the remedy, my momma made it
easy fo me i didn't have to work
fourteen years old in the backseat drinkin o.e. like kirk
now just the other day a friend of mine
told me to write me a tight ass rhyme
and so i, i wrote this ryhme that i'm about to say
the rhyme is tight and it went this way
i know it's been a long time, i shouldn't left you
without a tight rhyme to step to
think of all them weak ass albums you slept through
well i'm yo medicine, sorry i kept you
went to my brother's house, without a doubt
twisted one up with the nigga, smoked'em out
got to writin some of dat sicc made my own bacc fade type script
high enough to write a whole career full of shit
i mean blitzed, toe up, drug cost up, ready to fuck, throw up
man i got my cheddah cheese ass nigga know what
i don't hold no grudges i just ain't fuckin wit you no mo, mission stay
sicc made and don't let nothin penetrate my barracade
barracade barracade barracade, barracade
Thatz What I Said Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Loki)
[Lynch:]
Now I'm the type of nigga that'll leave a horse head in ya bed
Sleep with ya wife, then commence to knifin'
Get away clean with the scheme glock 17 in my lap
As I creep away in the black Cadillac
Cuz you know I got shit to do
Fake ID, cuz I been murderin' muthafuckas like HIV
As I creep real slow through your blood vessels
Five weeks later, nigga, God bless you
Now I'm stressed with the Smith & Wess
My music career ain't been the best
Bound to have my momma wearin' a tight dress
Bitch make my money right
Or get ya throat slit an drug in the bushes as ya inside gushes
Then I'm smashin' through the night, Mozzaradi with Cauz
He hittin' corners hella tight
Nigga you know I'm right
My momma taught me, nigga don't give a fuck
And when I die, crumble me in a joint and smoke me up
That's what said
[Loki:]
I'm high up off the hocus poucus
My diagnosis is a murderous psychosis, and muthafuckas know this
I'm quick to pull the pin up out the grenade
And hand you the pineapple and say here muthafucka, hold this
Loki and the murder show, the sequence begins with freaks in the mo-mo
We seein' alibi's provided, we frequent, and now my niggas ridin'
Slip clips in the pen, and do that shit, smoke the buddah shit
See when they say siccmade, whispers in your ear, the taste is bitter
Blowin' muthafuckas into smithers
Triple X liquor, with nuthin' but curse in our verses
Obscene, unfit for major mainstream magazines
Lace you up in kerosene and see that ass ignited
I mean we got the V-8 for your gangsta lean
I seen war machines and street marines
Dirty nina's in the hands of ghetto fiends
I'm caught between the hard life and ghetto dreams
I got schemes with black berets and get away like O.J., clean
The ripgut, he got the cannibalistic QZ, and the illegitimate got another 16
You see the front page news only show the inmates, and not the cage
While elections play with the public's rage
Fuck those who criticize, let 'em lead their lives through the shit we done
And then say that we ain't right
That's what I said
[Lynch:]
Black pits in the backyard, I don't feed 'em
Hafta buy a pit a week cuz gone eatin'
Off that Mad Dog 20/20 I'm bout to take my money
Ski mask, gotta manage, better take advantage
Understand this, radiation and mushroom blast
It's almost 20G, I gotta plot my shit and get my cash
D-Dub around the corner in the Impala
Zigg Zagg in the trash can with the auto mag last time I saw her
Beta, stand look out by the liquor store
Loki, you hear some movement, nigga you know, do that hoe
Time's murder so I'm time plottin'
Creep with a hand cannon, takin' out every nigga banstandin'
Cuz I'm aggressive like a wolverine
Beta done caught that ass and got the gasoline
Hot out your worstest dream
Then it all adds up to sittin' in Hawaii
with a AK on my lap off that puffy stuff
That's what I said
Now I'm the type of nigga that'll leave a horse head in ya bed
Sleep with ya wife, then commence to knifin'
Get away clean with the scheme glock 17 in my lap
As I creep away in the black Cadillac
Cuz you know I got shit to do
Fake ID, cuz I been murderin' muthafuckas like HIV
As I creep real slow through your blood vessels
Five weeks later, nigga, God bless you
Now I'm stressed with the Smith & Wess
My music career ain't been the best
Bound to have my momma wearin' a tight dress
Bitch make my money right
Or get ya throat slit an drug in the bushes as ya inside gushes
Then I'm smashin' through the night, Mozzaradi with Cauz
He hittin' corners hella tight
Nigga you know I'm right
My momma taught me, nigga don't give a fuck
And when I die, crumble me in a joint and smoke me up
That's what said
[Loki:]
I'm high up off the hocus poucus
My diagnosis is a murderous psychosis, and muthafuckas know this
I'm quick to pull the pin up out the grenade
And hand you the pineapple and say here muthafucka, hold this
Loki and the murder show, the sequence begins with freaks in the mo-mo
We seein' alibi's provided, we frequent, and now my niggas ridin'
Slip clips in the pen, and do that shit, smoke the buddah shit
See when they say siccmade, whispers in your ear, the taste is bitter
Blowin' muthafuckas into smithers
Triple X liquor, with nuthin' but curse in our verses
Obscene, unfit for major mainstream magazines
Lace you up in kerosene and see that ass ignited
I mean we got the V-8 for your gangsta lean
I seen war machines and street marines
Dirty nina's in the hands of ghetto fiends
I'm caught between the hard life and ghetto dreams
I got schemes with black berets and get away like O.J., clean
The ripgut, he got the cannibalistic QZ, and the illegitimate got another 16
You see the front page news only show the inmates, and not the cage
While elections play with the public's rage
Fuck those who criticize, let 'em lead their lives through the shit we done
And then say that we ain't right
That's what I said
[Lynch:]
Black pits in the backyard, I don't feed 'em
Hafta buy a pit a week cuz gone eatin'
Off that Mad Dog 20/20 I'm bout to take my money
Ski mask, gotta manage, better take advantage
Understand this, radiation and mushroom blast
It's almost 20G, I gotta plot my shit and get my cash
D-Dub around the corner in the Impala
Zigg Zagg in the trash can with the auto mag last time I saw her
Beta, stand look out by the liquor store
Loki, you hear some movement, nigga you know, do that hoe
Time's murder so I'm time plottin'
Creep with a hand cannon, takin' out every nigga banstandin'
Cuz I'm aggressive like a wolverine
Beta done caught that ass and got the gasoline
Hot out your worstest dream
Then it all adds up to sittin' in Hawaii
with a AK on my lap off that puffy stuff
That's what I said
Feel My Nature Rize Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Swartzaniggaz)
[Lynch:]
Feel my nature rise, blood shot red eyes
Waitin' in your back seat, catch you by surprise
Situations and circumstances make you take them dangerous chances
Leave you in your front seat with your neck slit, then I'm hittin' fences
Now I'ma talk about the same dirty situation
Shit you hatin', that's why your casket is waitin'
Shine your ass up like a triple gold Dayton
When I'm in your town you better cut like Walter Payton
Studio man keep tapin', I got that bitch, she peratratin'
Show your whole family, leave you on your front porch hangin'
With a note that's saying: 'sincerely, Swartzaniggaz'
Put your hands in your pocket, give it up
I demand I need my tweed, potent refer, man
Bandstandin' with the hand cannon
Split my face, muthafucka, gimme your scrill
And that Rolex in your hand, understand?
Yeah, you gots to feel my nature rise
[Swartzaniggaz:]
I can feel my nature rise
Starin' at the marks that I despise
Through evil eyes, high style thoughts turn homicides
You gots to die, for tryna ride and get me
Got some off, but none of them hit me
Now on a payback tip, with a patched black mask
On the grass with a 50 caliber weapon
Hangin' up over the door of the Chev and causin' slaughter
Sid's Malt Liquor be that motive when I be loaded off that water
Saw the situation heavy rollin'
Shotgun and a Chevy that's stolen
Strapped up and ready in case these niggas wanna get deadly
We can go there, I know there's a place for busta niggas like ya'll
But I heard it's pretty deep down so you niggas better watch your fall
Too late for that 911 call, this murder's already in progress
Home invasions like Asian got me obsessed like a Vietnam vet
As I kick through the front door, blastin'
And Lynch kicked down the back
Operation: Peel-a-cap, you fools shoulda already had your gats loaded
Cuz it ain't no tellin' when we comin'
Back streets, sacs of weed get blazed as we gunnin' with the engine still
runnin'
Cuz real killers make them real quick get aways
Spray the whole place and skirt
As quick as we can, we does our dirt
Whoever gets hurt, that's business
So please don't take this personal
It's just that murder's in my nature
So four years now, that's what I've been searchin' for
Cuz doin' dirt grows old when it's the same old thing
That's why I try to take my murders to the highest extreme
Make everybody scream, open up some spleens
Still hearin' the blood spillin'
It's just a little dream that I be havin'
Man, I love killin'
[Brotha Lynch:]
I got a hard dick for killin'
Southside villain
Protect your wife and your children
Feel my nature rise
[Swartzaniggaz:]
Not quite knowin' about this nigga?
Check your metro sections
Then cross reference murders by streets and dates
And how many times niggas' hoes' got raped
Mr. No Prints, the reason one time runs out of yellow tape
Fuckin' with a half deck, havin' niggas on hush
Smokin' a bowl that I re-dust
Open up your chest when I bust
So suit up, cuz it's kill a nigga night
Ain't no tellin' when Triple 6 gets to shootin' up
Movin' up your death date, with a Tre-8 special
It's way too late to wrestle, as I nestle the sword stoppers
Split your ass open like pinata
Loadin' up like a Rotweiler
Lining up like Tyson snortin' cocaine powder
Pure dank sniffer, some like a lot of fluid, but I beg to differ
One wiff of that shit and I'm on cloud nine
Nigga, don't trip if you ain't got no nuts
Cuz I brought mine all buffed and shined
Untouchable when I'm fuckin' full of that nitrate wine
That's when I bust on nineteen times and up
Cuz I'm nuts, goin' out my mind
Few, there's no luck, you fucked for life, for sho'
Get your ass up on the floor
Tryin' to catch me at that lateral, slippin'
By my lonesome, but I'm on some, so who wants some?
Fresh out the gates, ain't no room to make mistakes
Try to make my tapes, but I feel the hoe hate
Tuck my dick inside in the O-8
Must of been the way the clip mate with the .45
No body, no case
Taste the meat, can't wait to eat
Keep the street dirty, keep sturdy in your face
[Swartzaniggaz:]
Ya'll niggas don't wanna feel my nature rise
Cuz I get dirty, shoot up shit with my Clint Eastwood
Leave your neighborhood lookin' like a ghost town, nigga
You standin' on dangerous grounds
When we come to Sac, better have your automatics on loaded status
Cuz me and my niggas be on the savage, leavin' no prints
Not givin' ya'll niggas a inch, cuz I'ma lynch you
Fry your guts like Sizziline
Have your homie reminiscing' about your gangsta lean
Nigga, it ain't no fuckin' with my clique
You can dial 911, but it ain't no rescue
Man, I hope the dear Lord bless you
Next to this nigga, ain't no one's nuts bigger
Clutch your guts nigga, fuckin' with this Swartzanigga
Cuz I done lost it, taggin' niggas like a pit bull with rabies
Gone off 40 ounces of O.E.
Creepin' up on you, like doin' my Magnum P.I.
Lazy Eye with Lil' Blacc Mile
Smokin' a hard dick for killin'
Feel my nature rise, blood shot red eyes
Waitin' in your back seat, catch you by surprise
Situations and circumstances make you take them dangerous chances
Leave you in your front seat with your neck slit, then I'm hittin' fences
Now I'ma talk about the same dirty situation
Shit you hatin', that's why your casket is waitin'
Shine your ass up like a triple gold Dayton
When I'm in your town you better cut like Walter Payton
Studio man keep tapin', I got that bitch, she peratratin'
Show your whole family, leave you on your front porch hangin'
With a note that's saying: 'sincerely, Swartzaniggaz'
Put your hands in your pocket, give it up
I demand I need my tweed, potent refer, man
Bandstandin' with the hand cannon
Split my face, muthafucka, gimme your scrill
And that Rolex in your hand, understand?
Yeah, you gots to feel my nature rise
[Swartzaniggaz:]
I can feel my nature rise
Starin' at the marks that I despise
Through evil eyes, high style thoughts turn homicides
You gots to die, for tryna ride and get me
Got some off, but none of them hit me
Now on a payback tip, with a patched black mask
On the grass with a 50 caliber weapon
Hangin' up over the door of the Chev and causin' slaughter
Sid's Malt Liquor be that motive when I be loaded off that water
Saw the situation heavy rollin'
Shotgun and a Chevy that's stolen
Strapped up and ready in case these niggas wanna get deadly
We can go there, I know there's a place for busta niggas like ya'll
But I heard it's pretty deep down so you niggas better watch your fall
Too late for that 911 call, this murder's already in progress
Home invasions like Asian got me obsessed like a Vietnam vet
As I kick through the front door, blastin'
And Lynch kicked down the back
Operation: Peel-a-cap, you fools shoulda already had your gats loaded
Cuz it ain't no tellin' when we comin'
Back streets, sacs of weed get blazed as we gunnin' with the engine still
runnin'
Cuz real killers make them real quick get aways
Spray the whole place and skirt
As quick as we can, we does our dirt
Whoever gets hurt, that's business
So please don't take this personal
It's just that murder's in my nature
So four years now, that's what I've been searchin' for
Cuz doin' dirt grows old when it's the same old thing
That's why I try to take my murders to the highest extreme
Make everybody scream, open up some spleens
Still hearin' the blood spillin'
It's just a little dream that I be havin'
Man, I love killin'
[Brotha Lynch:]
I got a hard dick for killin'
Southside villain
Protect your wife and your children
Feel my nature rise
[Swartzaniggaz:]
Not quite knowin' about this nigga?
Check your metro sections
Then cross reference murders by streets and dates
And how many times niggas' hoes' got raped
Mr. No Prints, the reason one time runs out of yellow tape
Fuckin' with a half deck, havin' niggas on hush
Smokin' a bowl that I re-dust
Open up your chest when I bust
So suit up, cuz it's kill a nigga night
Ain't no tellin' when Triple 6 gets to shootin' up
Movin' up your death date, with a Tre-8 special
It's way too late to wrestle, as I nestle the sword stoppers
Split your ass open like pinata
Loadin' up like a Rotweiler
Lining up like Tyson snortin' cocaine powder
Pure dank sniffer, some like a lot of fluid, but I beg to differ
One wiff of that shit and I'm on cloud nine
Nigga, don't trip if you ain't got no nuts
Cuz I brought mine all buffed and shined
Untouchable when I'm fuckin' full of that nitrate wine
That's when I bust on nineteen times and up
Cuz I'm nuts, goin' out my mind
Few, there's no luck, you fucked for life, for sho'
Get your ass up on the floor
Tryin' to catch me at that lateral, slippin'
By my lonesome, but I'm on some, so who wants some?
Fresh out the gates, ain't no room to make mistakes
Try to make my tapes, but I feel the hoe hate
Tuck my dick inside in the O-8
Must of been the way the clip mate with the .45
No body, no case
Taste the meat, can't wait to eat
Keep the street dirty, keep sturdy in your face
[Swartzaniggaz:]
Ya'll niggas don't wanna feel my nature rise
Cuz I get dirty, shoot up shit with my Clint Eastwood
Leave your neighborhood lookin' like a ghost town, nigga
You standin' on dangerous grounds
When we come to Sac, better have your automatics on loaded status
Cuz me and my niggas be on the savage, leavin' no prints
Not givin' ya'll niggas a inch, cuz I'ma lynch you
Fry your guts like Sizziline
Have your homie reminiscing' about your gangsta lean
Nigga, it ain't no fuckin' with my clique
You can dial 911, but it ain't no rescue
Man, I hope the dear Lord bless you
Next to this nigga, ain't no one's nuts bigger
Clutch your guts nigga, fuckin' with this Swartzanigga
Cuz I done lost it, taggin' niggas like a pit bull with rabies
Gone off 40 ounces of O.E.
Creepin' up on you, like doin' my Magnum P.I.
Lazy Eye with Lil' Blacc Mile
Smokin' a hard dick for killin'
One Mo Pound Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
I was rollin' through the hood one day
Thought shit den calmed down,
"Gang-bangin'" den played out by the years since I den been around
Ain't talked to nobody from my block
Cause all my niggas is locked up
And it's been all ever I seen wit a guillotine
So I was in the "Cut Supreme"
Fifteen grams and some "greenodine"
Ain't seen a block nigga since
But now I'm off that kill green
(Mothtafuckas ain't got no love for me)
(Niggas wanna put some slugs in me)
So I'm double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my three fifty seven
Brotha Lynch Hung, but the bitches call me Kevin
They try to make me think they close to me, but Neb'in (never)
You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for alibis
And the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain't mine
cause mine's a supe' desguise
As I swoop the skies high off that buddha
tah mixed the cusche and the purple hairs
And it got me high
(Now I'm rollin on the river)
Labeled Mr. FedEx
(Cause them bodies I deliver)
Got to get to my next plot
Unlock the freezer get the meat for the "rocks" (rotweilers)
And heat the heat cause it's the "nine-neb'in" ('97)
and it's hot den a mothafucka
(All day everyday) I'mma stay loaded up, "krondike" in the trunk
And a pound full of James Brown
Cause I gots to get loaded so hold up soldier
[Chorus: x2]
The count goes
(One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed to make a mothafucka choke)
(Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side
but I got some bomb ass weed in my ride)
Nothin but notches, booches
Fill my pockets, hit 'em up everyday, gotta have my pay
The gaungay got me high now I'm paranoida den these booches
Filthy rich, I'mma take the loot
And the dig a ditch, tell your neighborhood bitch
to miss me with that hoe shit
Cause I'mma get this nigga when he surface
And that's on everything I love, I gots to split his wig
Opened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacket
Rib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic shells
Send him to hell express from his mailing address
We got his name, for sho', then we went to the house and did that shit
I know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood knew
somebody betta jack his ass up like a six-four impala
You floatin' on dirty water
Pack your shit up nigga like it's on only you and your ?woda-goda?
Track your ass down, smoke your last pound
[Chorus x2]
(If you smell any smoke it's just me and my homies gettin' blown)
And I was late gettin' home, intoxicated
Fight with my old lady
she was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now she's animated
Motivate through you like a foggy mist
You can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hit
First Degree told me if the weed can toss
It'll talk some shit, gotta get me an underspot
make me a Hemp Museum like B-Legit
I'm tryin to bump my head on the moon
Live so high up in the mountains eatin' snake meat, fried raccoons
With a attitude I need food to eat up
smoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet up
Top notch program, DOS mode indo 95 upgrade siccmade
Stay paid til the day on the ground, I'mma lay, I'mma stay loaded up
In my trunk I got the blow you up and it'll blow you up
And the count goes
[Brotha Lynch Hung sends out shout outs til the end]
Thought shit den calmed down,
"Gang-bangin'" den played out by the years since I den been around
Ain't talked to nobody from my block
Cause all my niggas is locked up
And it's been all ever I seen wit a guillotine
So I was in the "Cut Supreme"
Fifteen grams and some "greenodine"
Ain't seen a block nigga since
But now I'm off that kill green
(Mothtafuckas ain't got no love for me)
(Niggas wanna put some slugs in me)
So I'm double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my three fifty seven
Brotha Lynch Hung, but the bitches call me Kevin
They try to make me think they close to me, but Neb'in (never)
You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for alibis
And the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain't mine
cause mine's a supe' desguise
As I swoop the skies high off that buddha
tah mixed the cusche and the purple hairs
And it got me high
(Now I'm rollin on the river)
Labeled Mr. FedEx
(Cause them bodies I deliver)
Got to get to my next plot
Unlock the freezer get the meat for the "rocks" (rotweilers)
And heat the heat cause it's the "nine-neb'in" ('97)
and it's hot den a mothafucka
(All day everyday) I'mma stay loaded up, "krondike" in the trunk
And a pound full of James Brown
Cause I gots to get loaded so hold up soldier
[Chorus: x2]
The count goes
(One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed to make a mothafucka choke)
(Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side
but I got some bomb ass weed in my ride)
Nothin but notches, booches
Fill my pockets, hit 'em up everyday, gotta have my pay
The gaungay got me high now I'm paranoida den these booches
Filthy rich, I'mma take the loot
And the dig a ditch, tell your neighborhood bitch
to miss me with that hoe shit
Cause I'mma get this nigga when he surface
And that's on everything I love, I gots to split his wig
Opened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacket
Rib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic shells
Send him to hell express from his mailing address
We got his name, for sho', then we went to the house and did that shit
I know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood knew
somebody betta jack his ass up like a six-four impala
You floatin' on dirty water
Pack your shit up nigga like it's on only you and your ?woda-goda?
Track your ass down, smoke your last pound
[Chorus x2]
(If you smell any smoke it's just me and my homies gettin' blown)
And I was late gettin' home, intoxicated
Fight with my old lady
she was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now she's animated
Motivate through you like a foggy mist
You can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hit
First Degree told me if the weed can toss
It'll talk some shit, gotta get me an underspot
make me a Hemp Museum like B-Legit
I'm tryin to bump my head on the moon
Live so high up in the mountains eatin' snake meat, fried raccoons
With a attitude I need food to eat up
smoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet up
Top notch program, DOS mode indo 95 upgrade siccmade
Stay paid til the day on the ground, I'mma lay, I'mma stay loaded up
In my trunk I got the blow you up and it'll blow you up
And the count goes
[Brotha Lynch Hung sends out shout outs til the end]
On My Brief Case Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Phonk Beta, Zagg)
[Lynch:]
Now on my briefcase was some crumbled weed
A pack of Saravegas and a 24 ounce O.E.
Might as well skeez these couple of hoes
In my 69 Malibu sittin' on trues and vogues
For days you might have seen me in my cinnamon cut chrome shoes
With some you can't see me tint on the windows Indo syndrome
Smokin' it up, not givin' a muthafuckin' fizuck
Sold the cut, my ex-hoe said that nigga's sqautin' what?
Got at the homie Carl, and got some of that bomb
Had me so fuckin' high I got off like Vietnam
Dead bodies and bitches clits simmerin' in the crock pot
And the shit don't stop until my muthafuckin' chronic or high drop
It's just that insane type of thang, let the Mac rain guts in the drain
Siccmade niggas they make the world go round
And if you fuck with Siccmade Music you can get your ass gunned down
[Phonk Beta:]
I had a homie who stayed up in Alaska, used to transfer flights over Nebraska
And flew me back about a ounce of that Alaska Indica weed
And out of the whole zip possessed one seed
Had it wrapped real tight all up in cellophane
Can't have the K-9 dogs smell it, man
If only you saw what I was seein', the buds was almost pure white, not green
Had to be one of those one hitter quitter dome splitters
That's the type a tweed that makes you wanna fuck your baby-sitter
I roll a fattie, when I roll this fattie
Niggas'll be all noid wonderin' why they lookin at me
Bitches have the nerve to say my shit ain't bomb
But it'll have your lungs burnin', like your puffin' on napalm
[Zagg:]
I wipe that sweat up off my forehead, I'm off the cusche
Lay back and take a comfortable hit, with a Q-tip, it's splittin' my lips
And my dome stays split off toothpicks
I hit a lick with a quickness, dumpin' dead bodies in ditches
Appreciate the fact, come correct, cuz I could be vicious
Suspicion, comin' up on recognition I'm creepin' up from behind
With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for mine
So step in line, a couple of hits, dome split, I be lit on a for real base
With a machete I'll slice your neck just like them Jason cases
Murder traces, but I ain't pinned cuz there's no evidence
Slight scent of that purple cusche plant, and I can almost sense the essence
What's the lesson? Get tested, don't come if you can't come correct
It's that West Coast shit for life I don't know what you expected
I'm reckless, nevertheless I'm a pimp in a bulletproof vest
Puttin' it down, pound for pound, you need to take a step down
50 caliber rounds, I'm runnin' through your whole town
Buckin' em down like Doom set on deathmatch with the BFG-9000 cartoon
Now on my briefcase was some crumbled weed
A pack of Saravegas and a 24 ounce O.E.
Might as well skeez these couple of hoes
In my 69 Malibu sittin' on trues and vogues
For days you might have seen me in my cinnamon cut chrome shoes
With some you can't see me tint on the windows Indo syndrome
Smokin' it up, not givin' a muthafuckin' fizuck
Sold the cut, my ex-hoe said that nigga's sqautin' what?
Got at the homie Carl, and got some of that bomb
Had me so fuckin' high I got off like Vietnam
Dead bodies and bitches clits simmerin' in the crock pot
And the shit don't stop until my muthafuckin' chronic or high drop
It's just that insane type of thang, let the Mac rain guts in the drain
Siccmade niggas they make the world go round
And if you fuck with Siccmade Music you can get your ass gunned down
[Phonk Beta:]
I had a homie who stayed up in Alaska, used to transfer flights over Nebraska
And flew me back about a ounce of that Alaska Indica weed
And out of the whole zip possessed one seed
Had it wrapped real tight all up in cellophane
Can't have the K-9 dogs smell it, man
If only you saw what I was seein', the buds was almost pure white, not green
Had to be one of those one hitter quitter dome splitters
That's the type a tweed that makes you wanna fuck your baby-sitter
I roll a fattie, when I roll this fattie
Niggas'll be all noid wonderin' why they lookin at me
Bitches have the nerve to say my shit ain't bomb
But it'll have your lungs burnin', like your puffin' on napalm
[Zagg:]
I wipe that sweat up off my forehead, I'm off the cusche
Lay back and take a comfortable hit, with a Q-tip, it's splittin' my lips
And my dome stays split off toothpicks
I hit a lick with a quickness, dumpin' dead bodies in ditches
Appreciate the fact, come correct, cuz I could be vicious
Suspicion, comin' up on recognition I'm creepin' up from behind
With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for mine
So step in line, a couple of hits, dome split, I be lit on a for real base
With a machete I'll slice your neck just like them Jason cases
Murder traces, but I ain't pinned cuz there's no evidence
Slight scent of that purple cusche plant, and I can almost sense the essence
What's the lesson? Get tested, don't come if you can't come correct
It's that West Coast shit for life I don't know what you expected
I'm reckless, nevertheless I'm a pimp in a bulletproof vest
Puttin' it down, pound for pound, you need to take a step down
50 caliber rounds, I'm runnin' through your whole town
Buckin' em down like Doom set on deathmatch with the BFG-9000 cartoon
Secondz A Way Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. First Degree, Ice-T)
[First Degree:]
Shit done changed, the strip got bigger
To make my ends I got the wheel and the trigger
I get my swerve on with the 80 P liquor
The liquor bring out the nigga in this nigga
Got me huntin' with my musket, barred down with substance
Bringin' my ruckus to the rival fuckas in rival clusters
I'm still givin' birth to perfect joints, I keep it steady
Still mixin' up with skeet sours, I like them heavy
Heavy'll put a little bass in your voice
Yamps choice, no Rolls Royce but I keep it moist
I keep it saucy, ya bossy bitch talkin' that costly shit
Bossy bitch think she too flossy to trip
I'm First muthafuckin' Degree, not your average,
I'll have your boulevard hoppin'
Poppin' off when a baller pack a package of suckin'
Fuck you fuckin' up duck, stuck like Chuck, now, now getcha dome in the trunk
As we donut, I dump, I seen too many moons, took the minds of too many bufoons
Fools with no clues that love to watch my aura glisten,
they still don't listen
I...I got pot that's hot to trot, can't stop, won't stop
I got Lynch Hung in my backseat sniffin' for cops
I receipts of tweed purchase, medical purpose, write off at text time
So ya'll go home, light the smoke, it's relax time
[Chorus:]
Now I apologize for smoke on my mind
I been workin' hard and I got to unwind
About the J.O.A. stayin' in my brain
But I'm seconds away from goin' insane
Now I need to lift away
[Lynch:]
Now you niggas know I come sick like a lunatic
Man, they must be high cuz they really don't know who they fuckin' with
I used to have them all bombed out
Drink Alize wine, then rhyme and smoke tweeds till we dropped out
I got the chop out, no doubt,
cuz if it ain't about rappin', gunplay's gon' happen
Cuz I'm tappin' at yo' window, off that Indo, more sacs than Santana
Better check your antenna on your radio or your stereo or your video
Cuz I'm not that pretty, but in the bedroom I'm critical
You got your chance, now use
Hit you with the Loaded album, coutesty of Siccmade Music
Evidently you got something against me
Don't you tempt me, minty smells of the 20 sac of Indo, Killafornia's best
Player haters die a slow death, slow death
[CHORUS]
[Ice-T:]
I don't wear no Chuck Taylors and don't sag my pants
But I still lift the switch and make this 64 dance
More niggas with me now than I had in the hood
And they down for whatever and that's all to the good
Wish you would test my technique and heart, nigga what?
Nigga, fuck that, bitch nigga what? Baby, duck!
What you wanna do now, ya bleedin' from the floor
Nigga wanted beef, now he wants beef no more
That's how I'm coming 9-6, bitch, rich and mad
Hoes in bikinis, rag Lambroginis, overseer runnin' mad streets
Creepers with beepers and stash spots for glocks
And under car Escobar style, buck wild, you been there, you know the terrain
Niggas go insane, tryin' to get the green
I'm just surviving on the streets with my peeps
And I'm livin' for the day I catch a punk on the creep, yeah
[CHORUS]
Shit done changed, the strip got bigger
To make my ends I got the wheel and the trigger
I get my swerve on with the 80 P liquor
The liquor bring out the nigga in this nigga
Got me huntin' with my musket, barred down with substance
Bringin' my ruckus to the rival fuckas in rival clusters
I'm still givin' birth to perfect joints, I keep it steady
Still mixin' up with skeet sours, I like them heavy
Heavy'll put a little bass in your voice
Yamps choice, no Rolls Royce but I keep it moist
I keep it saucy, ya bossy bitch talkin' that costly shit
Bossy bitch think she too flossy to trip
I'm First muthafuckin' Degree, not your average,
I'll have your boulevard hoppin'
Poppin' off when a baller pack a package of suckin'
Fuck you fuckin' up duck, stuck like Chuck, now, now getcha dome in the trunk
As we donut, I dump, I seen too many moons, took the minds of too many bufoons
Fools with no clues that love to watch my aura glisten,
they still don't listen
I...I got pot that's hot to trot, can't stop, won't stop
I got Lynch Hung in my backseat sniffin' for cops
I receipts of tweed purchase, medical purpose, write off at text time
So ya'll go home, light the smoke, it's relax time
[Chorus:]
Now I apologize for smoke on my mind
I been workin' hard and I got to unwind
About the J.O.A. stayin' in my brain
But I'm seconds away from goin' insane
Now I need to lift away
[Lynch:]
Now you niggas know I come sick like a lunatic
Man, they must be high cuz they really don't know who they fuckin' with
I used to have them all bombed out
Drink Alize wine, then rhyme and smoke tweeds till we dropped out
I got the chop out, no doubt,
cuz if it ain't about rappin', gunplay's gon' happen
Cuz I'm tappin' at yo' window, off that Indo, more sacs than Santana
Better check your antenna on your radio or your stereo or your video
Cuz I'm not that pretty, but in the bedroom I'm critical
You got your chance, now use
Hit you with the Loaded album, coutesty of Siccmade Music
Evidently you got something against me
Don't you tempt me, minty smells of the 20 sac of Indo, Killafornia's best
Player haters die a slow death, slow death
[CHORUS]
[Ice-T:]
I don't wear no Chuck Taylors and don't sag my pants
But I still lift the switch and make this 64 dance
More niggas with me now than I had in the hood
And they down for whatever and that's all to the good
Wish you would test my technique and heart, nigga what?
Nigga, fuck that, bitch nigga what? Baby, duck!
What you wanna do now, ya bleedin' from the floor
Nigga wanted beef, now he wants beef no more
That's how I'm coming 9-6, bitch, rich and mad
Hoes in bikinis, rag Lambroginis, overseer runnin' mad streets
Creepers with beepers and stash spots for glocks
And under car Escobar style, buck wild, you been there, you know the terrain
Niggas go insane, tryin' to get the green
I'm just surviving on the streets with my peeps
And I'm livin' for the day I catch a punk on the creep, yeah
[CHORUS]
Cusche Break (Intro) Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
Alright you MuthaFuckaz
U ready for this?
Is your joints lit and shit?
Because you gotta be high to listen to this shit you know?
Fuck that fuck that
Turn the tape off you know what I'm sayin
Go get you a muthafuckin spliff
for those of you that's already high
Peep this Shit
U ready for this?
Is your joints lit and shit?
Because you gotta be high to listen to this shit you know?
Fuck that fuck that
Turn the tape off you know what I'm sayin
Go get you a muthafuckin spliff
for those of you that's already high
Peep this Shit
Sicc Made Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Grisly voice]
Yeah, the Baby Killa's back up in this motherfucka...
Straight from tha grave,
it gets so deep right under the Garden Blocc...
Oh, me? Ya can just call me Manson...Yeah, we met before...
But ya forget that I ain't gonna die so I'm back up this motherfucka...
So peep the mothafuckin' words from the dead man, yeah...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
And when I pack me a gun and, oh, when I was young
I dreamed of feedin' them niggas soufle (soofley) a' la dunn
Motherfuckas get hung, my bullet weights a ton
The Garden Blocc Don, the valley of the slum
Tha cannibalistic nigga that got that 9 millimeter gun
That nigga that nigga that got them mothafuckas on the run
They thought that I was done but Lynch is not the one
To go out from a gunshot wound, nigga, I'm not done that soon
Bitches, they come but nut just like the rest, caught one in the chest
Shoulda wore a vest and, oh, what a bloody mess
Puffin' off the cess, dealin' with the stress, killin' off the less...
Fortunate but they trip when my nine gets sick
Them niggas either die or stay stuck on my dick
Cause I'm that nigga they call Lynch, I got'em niggas fiendin' for my shit
I empty clips, drinkin', fuckin' with tha splift
And it's the nigga that kill for reason, it's the Season Of The Sicc
That's why I got the urge to shoot that pussy clit
And kill off that infant, so what is my intent?
To show them mothafuckas livin' life ain't shit
I gets to gettin' real sick and eatin' bloody clit, the baby killa shit
Put 'em in a grave with an empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
Cause livin' with tha Tripple-Six
Ya learn to fuck devil in his mouth and eat the shit out of his bitch
And I admit: my brain is kinda sick
But now I'm like J. Dahmer, I'm chewin' up all the evidence
I killed to cure my fit, the human meat fix
Bitin' to the skin rips, that sick nigga, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...
[Grisly voice]
Yeah, do ya wanna know what that Siccness is?
The Siccness is when you hug your mama and ya dick get hard
Or you walk in on your baby's mama and she's suckin' your son's dick
That's the mothafuckin' Siccness...
So, ya mothafuckas don't ya forget that shit...
And don't forget where the Sicc came from...
That nigga Lynch...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I take my mouth off up that cog and trip
Cause eatin' dead pussy clit I make ya sick
But it's the Season so my reason is legit
I'm havin' fits, I dreamed of eatin' bloody pussy clit's since I was six
I fiend for a dead pussy on dick, I gotta skits
Meanin' I don't give a shit about ya biyatch
That nigga that's from tha Blocc, killin' up tha cog, so, nigga, shii-it
Baby barbeque ribs and guts and, ah, don't let me get too deep
Fryin' baby nuts, sluts get ate out alike, dank is what crooked teeth heard
I pull the Tampax-string out and straight put in work
It wouldn't work without that sick, so page a nigga quick
So I can serve ya some of this shit and have ya murderin' ya biyatch
Cause me and Triple-Six grew up fuckin' bitches up the gut
With tha 9-millimeter clip, Season of the Sicc, picture this:
Pussy meat ripped in a pan full of nuts and guts and intestines and shit
I gets ta chewin' on tha clit, the sick, they just don't understand it
It's so outlandish, chewin' nigga nuts to cure my fit
The human meat fix, bitin' 'til the skin rips, that sick nigga, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...
Yeah, the Baby Killa's back up in this motherfucka...
Straight from tha grave,
it gets so deep right under the Garden Blocc...
Oh, me? Ya can just call me Manson...Yeah, we met before...
But ya forget that I ain't gonna die so I'm back up this motherfucka...
So peep the mothafuckin' words from the dead man, yeah...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
And when I pack me a gun and, oh, when I was young
I dreamed of feedin' them niggas soufle (soofley) a' la dunn
Motherfuckas get hung, my bullet weights a ton
The Garden Blocc Don, the valley of the slum
Tha cannibalistic nigga that got that 9 millimeter gun
That nigga that nigga that got them mothafuckas on the run
They thought that I was done but Lynch is not the one
To go out from a gunshot wound, nigga, I'm not done that soon
Bitches, they come but nut just like the rest, caught one in the chest
Shoulda wore a vest and, oh, what a bloody mess
Puffin' off the cess, dealin' with the stress, killin' off the less...
Fortunate but they trip when my nine gets sick
Them niggas either die or stay stuck on my dick
Cause I'm that nigga they call Lynch, I got'em niggas fiendin' for my shit
I empty clips, drinkin', fuckin' with tha splift
And it's the nigga that kill for reason, it's the Season Of The Sicc
That's why I got the urge to shoot that pussy clit
And kill off that infant, so what is my intent?
To show them mothafuckas livin' life ain't shit
I gets to gettin' real sick and eatin' bloody clit, the baby killa shit
Put 'em in a grave with an empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
Cause livin' with tha Tripple-Six
Ya learn to fuck devil in his mouth and eat the shit out of his bitch
And I admit: my brain is kinda sick
But now I'm like J. Dahmer, I'm chewin' up all the evidence
I killed to cure my fit, the human meat fix
Bitin' to the skin rips, that sick nigga, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...
[Grisly voice]
Yeah, do ya wanna know what that Siccness is?
The Siccness is when you hug your mama and ya dick get hard
Or you walk in on your baby's mama and she's suckin' your son's dick
That's the mothafuckin' Siccness...
So, ya mothafuckas don't ya forget that shit...
And don't forget where the Sicc came from...
That nigga Lynch...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I take my mouth off up that cog and trip
Cause eatin' dead pussy clit I make ya sick
But it's the Season so my reason is legit
I'm havin' fits, I dreamed of eatin' bloody pussy clit's since I was six
I fiend for a dead pussy on dick, I gotta skits
Meanin' I don't give a shit about ya biyatch
That nigga that's from tha Blocc, killin' up tha cog, so, nigga, shii-it
Baby barbeque ribs and guts and, ah, don't let me get too deep
Fryin' baby nuts, sluts get ate out alike, dank is what crooked teeth heard
I pull the Tampax-string out and straight put in work
It wouldn't work without that sick, so page a nigga quick
So I can serve ya some of this shit and have ya murderin' ya biyatch
Cause me and Triple-Six grew up fuckin' bitches up the gut
With tha 9-millimeter clip, Season of the Sicc, picture this:
Pussy meat ripped in a pan full of nuts and guts and intestines and shit
I gets ta chewin' on tha clit, the sick, they just don't understand it
It's so outlandish, chewin' nigga nuts to cure my fit
The human meat fix, bitin' 'til the skin rips, that sick nigga, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...
Dead Man Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Phone Rings]
[Lynch:] What up?
[Other Man:]
Hey nigga
hey nigga peep game nigga
I got me this lil' old tricc from tha other side you know what I'm sayin'
the bitvh was runnin' her mouth nigga, them fools is out to get your ass nigga thats real,
its on the blocc nigga, so whats up nigga what u wanna do nigga,
stomp on them fools nigga, can we dump nigga? whats up?
[Lynch:]
Listen nigga listen listen, we just gon' chill at the crib,
we just gon' strap up and wait nigga, dont even trip, I got me a 9mm, 44, AR15,
30ought six with a scope nigga, a Ithica 37 12gauge shotgun with a 5lb. slide nigga,
we all the way nice nigga, streetsweeper and shit, pistol grip you know.
We finnuh handle these nigga.
Low-Kee gave me the whole hook-up nigga. Lets do this.
[Lynch:] What up?
[Other Man:]
Hey nigga
hey nigga peep game nigga
I got me this lil' old tricc from tha other side you know what I'm sayin'
the bitvh was runnin' her mouth nigga, them fools is out to get your ass nigga thats real,
its on the blocc nigga, so whats up nigga what u wanna do nigga,
stomp on them fools nigga, can we dump nigga? whats up?
[Lynch:]
Listen nigga listen listen, we just gon' chill at the crib,
we just gon' strap up and wait nigga, dont even trip, I got me a 9mm, 44, AR15,
30ought six with a scope nigga, a Ithica 37 12gauge shotgun with a 5lb. slide nigga,
we all the way nice nigga, streetsweeper and shit, pistol grip you know.
We finnuh handle these nigga.
Low-Kee gave me the whole hook-up nigga. Lets do this.
Rest In Piss Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Brotha Lynch]
Yeah I'm back up in this motherfucker
For the 9 whatever the fuck
You know I ain't dead yet
I'm with my real loc niggas
I was a dead man, walking they say, so every night I hit the gates
Load the AK and post up, in the window till come day, anyway hey
I feel the payback simmering in my brain
The thoughts of death cloud my mind
As my niggas is gone away many clips and 24 riches, packed
but who really got my back
now that them niggas done hit the grave
I'm killing them off for the olds days
24 ways and a 24 sack of that purple cush and make me sicker
than sick and even get Ripgut Cannibal if you wish
cause nigga it's EBK everyday all day to the day I die
I'm creepin through yo set with a mini mac 10
AR15 rugga with a 12 guage pump in the trunk
and a black beany disguise
That nigga that you can't see glocks and locs
over my eyes crept like a black cat with a mac
with a mac 10 in my lap with fat sack of that crack
took a hit of that shit and seen some niggas with a 4-5
So I let 'em have it bounce to the O you know trippin
on that Indonesian shit and a 9 millimeter for you to dump
and put one in your bitch and put her in her grave
with that empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
then bounce to that ounce
with a lack and a mac and a fat pack shit
I'm sicker than sick you niggas gotta admit when I
grab my shit you either gone or get caught with a hot one
nigga so rest in piss
[Chorus]
Just call me Agent Double O Deuce 4 Blocc
I got that 9 milli glock and ready to put one in your knot
"Rest in Piss" (Shit) [repeat 4x]
[Brotha Lynch]
From the rep of the depth of the double O
duece foe block with a glock in my pocket
full of that sess you betta wear a bullet proof vest
When I'm match your set betta pack you a tech
cause I'm at your neck with a clip full of that shit
nigga don't trip when i put one in your dick that Ripgut Cannibal
Hannibal shit nigga nuts and guts all over my chest
and stomach running with no slack threw my strap in the back
twist me up a sack and I'm back at the Garden Block
kicking it with maniac the nigga that a maniac sicker than sick
when a clips in progress put on the ground
with a brain full of them nine slugs read him in Reader's Digest
uh I found a new love trickeling in my brain half of the doja
half of the OE half of the fact that I am insane nigga
it's that duece foe blockster
where niggas never put their glocks up
and get their cocks sucked nigga you just can't stop us
loc to the brain insane with a main game that will maintain
untouchable cut your throat and leave you in the street
with a lynch around your throat motherfucker
cause you ain't got no love foe the block
pop gotta hot foe that 24 street block
nigga that took a shot rest in piss
[Chorus]
Yeah I'm back up in this motherfucker
For the 9 whatever the fuck
You know I ain't dead yet
I'm with my real loc niggas
I was a dead man, walking they say, so every night I hit the gates
Load the AK and post up, in the window till come day, anyway hey
I feel the payback simmering in my brain
The thoughts of death cloud my mind
As my niggas is gone away many clips and 24 riches, packed
but who really got my back
now that them niggas done hit the grave
I'm killing them off for the olds days
24 ways and a 24 sack of that purple cush and make me sicker
than sick and even get Ripgut Cannibal if you wish
cause nigga it's EBK everyday all day to the day I die
I'm creepin through yo set with a mini mac 10
AR15 rugga with a 12 guage pump in the trunk
and a black beany disguise
That nigga that you can't see glocks and locs
over my eyes crept like a black cat with a mac
with a mac 10 in my lap with fat sack of that crack
took a hit of that shit and seen some niggas with a 4-5
So I let 'em have it bounce to the O you know trippin
on that Indonesian shit and a 9 millimeter for you to dump
and put one in your bitch and put her in her grave
with that empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
then bounce to that ounce
with a lack and a mac and a fat pack shit
I'm sicker than sick you niggas gotta admit when I
grab my shit you either gone or get caught with a hot one
nigga so rest in piss
[Chorus]
Just call me Agent Double O Deuce 4 Blocc
I got that 9 milli glock and ready to put one in your knot
"Rest in Piss" (Shit) [repeat 4x]
[Brotha Lynch]
From the rep of the depth of the double O
duece foe block with a glock in my pocket
full of that sess you betta wear a bullet proof vest
When I'm match your set betta pack you a tech
cause I'm at your neck with a clip full of that shit
nigga don't trip when i put one in your dick that Ripgut Cannibal
Hannibal shit nigga nuts and guts all over my chest
and stomach running with no slack threw my strap in the back
twist me up a sack and I'm back at the Garden Block
kicking it with maniac the nigga that a maniac sicker than sick
when a clips in progress put on the ground
with a brain full of them nine slugs read him in Reader's Digest
uh I found a new love trickeling in my brain half of the doja
half of the OE half of the fact that I am insane nigga
it's that duece foe blockster
where niggas never put their glocks up
and get their cocks sucked nigga you just can't stop us
loc to the brain insane with a main game that will maintain
untouchable cut your throat and leave you in the street
with a lynch around your throat motherfucker
cause you ain't got no love foe the block
pop gotta hot foe that 24 street block
nigga that took a shot rest in piss
[Chorus]
Return Of Da Baby Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. X-Raided)
You better pray
When you see me put that nine up in that pussy, ho
Cock it back slow
Rock it back and forth, wait for the nut, then let my trigger go
BOOM!
Pussy-guts all over the room
If you ain't seen it
Then you're fiendin'
For the meanin'
Of that nina of doom
2 inches in and, uh, 4 inches out
You back that nigga that pack that gat
And hit that indo-sack
It's like that
Cannabis seteva got me stuck on stump, fool
All it take is a way, a fat green-bud blunt and a stunt
Cause it's that nigga that work 'em nigga deep
And block creep
And witness murder, baby, kill a seed
Once it'll make you vomit
Guts in a mama's baby, nuts in a bottle, maybe it's common
Biatches keep fuckin' and suckin' and keepin' it comin'
With they drama. POP! It's baby killa season
Put 6 in the clip, put it up that clit
And watch them baby's brains
Drip out that fetus
Bleed, it's that nigga that kill 'em
I'll fill 'em all full for that sicc reason
Season of da siccness broodin', got me trippin' for no reason
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, motherfucker
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you, real, huh?
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
As I creep, picture every human that I seek
Slabs of human meat
Cause my kids gotta eat
I lives kinda deep, dark, up in tha cut
Where niggas load nines, and barrel-fuck a slut
Nigga, what? You ain't even seen me in my prime
Eatin' baby brains, baby veins, baby spines
I know they be cryin' when I'm cuttin' off the neck
I'm peelin' off the skin for some bacon-fried croquettes
Baby villain spine, that baby-killin' mind
A fifth-pound of gin cause I know I'm doin' time
So catch me now before I do my next crime
My kids' gotta eat, somebody's baby's on the line, nigga
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, motherfucker
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you, real, huh?
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
Get ready for the nigga shit
That siccer-than-sicc gut ripgut
Pick-a-vic-up, fuck 'em up with a couple of nine-milla slugs
And put 'em on the ground. Murder toll. Buck buck!
Slugs to the womb
Guts all over the room
That legion of doom
That S to the I-C-X
With a locc and a tech for the throat
and a neck full of gunsmoke it up, locc
One for the nigga who kills them infants and senses
Then this time, I hit 'em with a nine-millimeter, meter
Now let's pick up me freakin' up your skin
Never knew nigga-meat cooked so thin!
So I pack me a nine-milla gat
And creep in the back of the 'Lac
With a sack of the indo
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, motherfucker
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you nigga
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
That's right, once upon a time
A nigga that hella sicc up in the skids
With a lie for the snitch
As a victim's stoned, sayin' "I'll be bones to the pussy clits"
They're a baby ditch to the mastermind
Nine-millimeter shells, they're blind!
Devils made a pact to fuck with match-to-heat, it's one of a kind
Low enough to the shit got hella deep that I had to patch it
To a soul who had the heart to put his mama in a casket
Who could it be?
Or can he be
Locked up in the county
cause the bounty
finally found a nigga like me?
X-to-the-R-to-the-A-I-D-E-D
L-O-C
What's up, my nigga?
Pull this trigger
And take my muthafuckin' legacy
But watch your back
Niggas be claimin' that they sicc
But really don't know which way to go when they be smokin' up with my lunatic
Shiiiit, have you ever seen your mama's cock? (yeah!)
Have you even seen a body drop? (yeah!)
Have you even loaded up your glock?
Well, I could gives a fuck cause even then, nigga, you not my nigga
From that 24 Garden Block
That's doin' time
For shootin' shadows up in the dark
And tryin' to bite before he bark
And when his heart stops
From the metal blue blocks up in the cut
They try to lynch my muthafucka to make some dice up out his nuts
And what the fuck goes thru my nigga's mind up in his cell?
That 24 Deep, no sleep, much stress, nigga
Nigga must be livin' up in hell
And here I am, same muthafucka that got my nigga sicc
Tryin' to kill myself but slippin' more deeper into the siccness shit
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, muthafucka
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you nigga
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
When you see me put that nine up in that pussy, ho
Cock it back slow
Rock it back and forth, wait for the nut, then let my trigger go
BOOM!
Pussy-guts all over the room
If you ain't seen it
Then you're fiendin'
For the meanin'
Of that nina of doom
2 inches in and, uh, 4 inches out
You back that nigga that pack that gat
And hit that indo-sack
It's like that
Cannabis seteva got me stuck on stump, fool
All it take is a way, a fat green-bud blunt and a stunt
Cause it's that nigga that work 'em nigga deep
And block creep
And witness murder, baby, kill a seed
Once it'll make you vomit
Guts in a mama's baby, nuts in a bottle, maybe it's common
Biatches keep fuckin' and suckin' and keepin' it comin'
With they drama. POP! It's baby killa season
Put 6 in the clip, put it up that clit
And watch them baby's brains
Drip out that fetus
Bleed, it's that nigga that kill 'em
I'll fill 'em all full for that sicc reason
Season of da siccness broodin', got me trippin' for no reason
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, motherfucker
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you, real, huh?
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
As I creep, picture every human that I seek
Slabs of human meat
Cause my kids gotta eat
I lives kinda deep, dark, up in tha cut
Where niggas load nines, and barrel-fuck a slut
Nigga, what? You ain't even seen me in my prime
Eatin' baby brains, baby veins, baby spines
I know they be cryin' when I'm cuttin' off the neck
I'm peelin' off the skin for some bacon-fried croquettes
Baby villain spine, that baby-killin' mind
A fifth-pound of gin cause I know I'm doin' time
So catch me now before I do my next crime
My kids' gotta eat, somebody's baby's on the line, nigga
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, motherfucker
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you, real, huh?
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
Get ready for the nigga shit
That siccer-than-sicc gut ripgut
Pick-a-vic-up, fuck 'em up with a couple of nine-milla slugs
And put 'em on the ground. Murder toll. Buck buck!
Slugs to the womb
Guts all over the room
That legion of doom
That S to the I-C-X
With a locc and a tech for the throat
and a neck full of gunsmoke it up, locc
One for the nigga who kills them infants and senses
Then this time, I hit 'em with a nine-millimeter, meter
Now let's pick up me freakin' up your skin
Never knew nigga-meat cooked so thin!
So I pack me a nine-milla gat
And creep in the back of the 'Lac
With a sack of the indo
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, motherfucker
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you nigga
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
That's right, once upon a time
A nigga that hella sicc up in the skids
With a lie for the snitch
As a victim's stoned, sayin' "I'll be bones to the pussy clits"
They're a baby ditch to the mastermind
Nine-millimeter shells, they're blind!
Devils made a pact to fuck with match-to-heat, it's one of a kind
Low enough to the shit got hella deep that I had to patch it
To a soul who had the heart to put his mama in a casket
Who could it be?
Or can he be
Locked up in the county
cause the bounty
finally found a nigga like me?
X-to-the-R-to-the-A-I-D-E-D
L-O-C
What's up, my nigga?
Pull this trigger
And take my muthafuckin' legacy
But watch your back
Niggas be claimin' that they sicc
But really don't know which way to go when they be smokin' up with my lunatic
Shiiiit, have you ever seen your mama's cock? (yeah!)
Have you even seen a body drop? (yeah!)
Have you even loaded up your glock?
Well, I could gives a fuck cause even then, nigga, you not my nigga
From that 24 Garden Block
That's doin' time
For shootin' shadows up in the dark
And tryin' to bite before he bark
And when his heart stops
From the metal blue blocks up in the cut
They try to lynch my muthafucka to make some dice up out his nuts
And what the fuck goes thru my nigga's mind up in his cell?
That 24 Deep, no sleep, much stress, nigga
Nigga must be livin' up in hell
And here I am, same muthafucka that got my nigga sicc
Tryin' to kill myself but slippin' more deeper into the siccness shit
Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, muthafucka
Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you nigga
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
Now eat!
Locc 2 Da Brain Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Baby Reg, Baby X, Big Dan, Mr. Doc)
[Verse 1: Baby X-Rated Locc]
Comin off that high it's that double-set rapped around some funk in the trunk
I got the mossberg pump and bout' to jack a punk
And when that siccness hits I'm like a new stage
Watch my back, hit the dank, load the gat, make the grave
Twelve midnight, my niggas on the stroll,
Mr. Doc, Baby Reg, Brotha Lynch, Big Dan
We bout' to roll ridin deep hella high so nigga peep this,
Take ya glock off safety turn around and hit the street
When I got the milli pictured in my head
Ain't no stoppin cuz the devil said I'm halfway dead
What can I say got them evil thoughts fillin' up my Head locc to the brain
On that insane tip E-B-K everyday
The block-style bitch smokin' dank
With my braids in my hair and I'm riding on a full tank
My nine on the side going Both ways,
Peel a niggas cap and then I'm sideways
[Chorus: x2]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
Locc to da brain...
[Verse 2: Big Dan]
Now try to peep this watt G straight low killa rollin five and the deuce
Locc to the brain set-trippin' after fucking with that sick juice
I fuckin' pump twelve rounds of that knot block the plot
(you down to ride?) yeah we fuckin' with them body drops stop
Hit the lights there them niggas go
Reach for your flags your straps and roll the windows low
Roll slow these niggas actin like they know us are here,
They fuckin' duckin' dodging bullets damn I emptied the clip
They bustin' back trying to hit us from the blind side Low,
A fucking doughnut and the twelve-gauge pump
Hang from the window what's up now nigga yee-ah
L-O-C to the brain and gauge blast equals rest in pain
Insane loc so a nigga don't give a fuck
It's in the hearts so these rival niggas straight stuck
I let the gauge loose damn I've never seen so much blood
It's all for gang and the gang shows no love fool
So if you ever see us rollin through your side it ain't all good,
I suggest you hide
[Chorus: x1]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
[Verse 3: Mr. Doc]
Come with me deep see how I'm bout to do it for this
Back with tight big shit
Them fools that say they'll kill the stinking hits not doing shit
When they get lit up on they turf
So move on with they life one even left
That since that time I haven't heard from him
Now that's my locc right damn, where'd you go folks?
Remember we're supposed to be the ones with brains this locc's
So nigga fuck it, i'll do it like your ass is dead
And touch them niggas with the mack-eleven out of the shell
I'm burning up the villiage nigga life is a bitch
Somes I set the tags and name on the wall you fucking snitch
So you'll make a switch on how you're gang-banging
L-O-C and to the brain real locc's don't play that way
See your niggas on the other side is best to hit the floor
And watch them flesh-shredders bout' to rip your asshole apart
And now it is said and what was said
Will come to pass from Mr. Doc amen, God bless your ass
[Chorus: x2]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
[Verse 4: Baby Reg]
See I was standing in the middle of a circle cuz' a nigga is trying to jack me
With a nine-millimeter ruger and a six deep posse
But I ain't going out for a jack move
The only thing on my mind
Is pullin my nine and these handles in these fools
Now tell me what you busters want with me?
They started talking about pockets on the ground you mean
Empty my loot out, you fools must be smokin' sherms
But I'll be glad to put my strap up in your face and let some gun powder burn
Now take a lesson from a Sac-Town criminal
I'm standing all alone in the street
And talkin shit to your circle and ain't no blastin y'all must be bluffin
Threw up my sign and grabbed my nine-millimeter nine
And started bustin on niggas and watching every muther fucker try to run
That locc to da brain got a nigga insane with a fucking empty gun
So imma continue to strike and stay alone and maintain my self-pride
Cuz' when I ride it's always locc to da brain
[Chorus: x2]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
[Verse 5: Brotha Lynch Hung]
You can't see me for the fact that the inside of my strap's in your sight
Bout' to put some slugs in your throat and put your guts in my coat and hit
the night Drop a sack of indo in my pipe and it's
EBK everyday until the day I hit my grave-sight
That locc to the brain cuz' it's all redrum
A couple of hits from the purple spliff
and I'm workin a fifth of the coke and rum
I have my twelve gauge-pump decorating niggas brains
Nigga nuts and guts is how we get sick them Northern Cal slayings
That locc to the brain shit ain't no game it's a gang
Them niggas that killed they mama for some fame it ain't no thang
It ain't no way, I dump and let them niggas live
Cuz' where I'm from we rockin up on em'
bustin them reps up in them niggas ribs
It's twelve-o-clock full of that spliff full of that ammo in my glock-nine
Creepin through your set hit the stop
Sign sideways bustin I see gat twenty-four C's
Feel the breeze from the slugs in my nine now
Rest in peace
[Chorus: x4]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
Comin off that high it's that double-set rapped around some funk in the trunk
I got the mossberg pump and bout' to jack a punk
And when that siccness hits I'm like a new stage
Watch my back, hit the dank, load the gat, make the grave
Twelve midnight, my niggas on the stroll,
Mr. Doc, Baby Reg, Brotha Lynch, Big Dan
We bout' to roll ridin deep hella high so nigga peep this,
Take ya glock off safety turn around and hit the street
When I got the milli pictured in my head
Ain't no stoppin cuz the devil said I'm halfway dead
What can I say got them evil thoughts fillin' up my Head locc to the brain
On that insane tip E-B-K everyday
The block-style bitch smokin' dank
With my braids in my hair and I'm riding on a full tank
My nine on the side going Both ways,
Peel a niggas cap and then I'm sideways
[Chorus: x2]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
Locc to da brain...
[Verse 2: Big Dan]
Now try to peep this watt G straight low killa rollin five and the deuce
Locc to the brain set-trippin' after fucking with that sick juice
I fuckin' pump twelve rounds of that knot block the plot
(you down to ride?) yeah we fuckin' with them body drops stop
Hit the lights there them niggas go
Reach for your flags your straps and roll the windows low
Roll slow these niggas actin like they know us are here,
They fuckin' duckin' dodging bullets damn I emptied the clip
They bustin' back trying to hit us from the blind side Low,
A fucking doughnut and the twelve-gauge pump
Hang from the window what's up now nigga yee-ah
L-O-C to the brain and gauge blast equals rest in pain
Insane loc so a nigga don't give a fuck
It's in the hearts so these rival niggas straight stuck
I let the gauge loose damn I've never seen so much blood
It's all for gang and the gang shows no love fool
So if you ever see us rollin through your side it ain't all good,
I suggest you hide
[Chorus: x1]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
[Verse 3: Mr. Doc]
Come with me deep see how I'm bout to do it for this
Back with tight big shit
Them fools that say they'll kill the stinking hits not doing shit
When they get lit up on they turf
So move on with they life one even left
That since that time I haven't heard from him
Now that's my locc right damn, where'd you go folks?
Remember we're supposed to be the ones with brains this locc's
So nigga fuck it, i'll do it like your ass is dead
And touch them niggas with the mack-eleven out of the shell
I'm burning up the villiage nigga life is a bitch
Somes I set the tags and name on the wall you fucking snitch
So you'll make a switch on how you're gang-banging
L-O-C and to the brain real locc's don't play that way
See your niggas on the other side is best to hit the floor
And watch them flesh-shredders bout' to rip your asshole apart
And now it is said and what was said
Will come to pass from Mr. Doc amen, God bless your ass
[Chorus: x2]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
[Verse 4: Baby Reg]
See I was standing in the middle of a circle cuz' a nigga is trying to jack me
With a nine-millimeter ruger and a six deep posse
But I ain't going out for a jack move
The only thing on my mind
Is pullin my nine and these handles in these fools
Now tell me what you busters want with me?
They started talking about pockets on the ground you mean
Empty my loot out, you fools must be smokin' sherms
But I'll be glad to put my strap up in your face and let some gun powder burn
Now take a lesson from a Sac-Town criminal
I'm standing all alone in the street
And talkin shit to your circle and ain't no blastin y'all must be bluffin
Threw up my sign and grabbed my nine-millimeter nine
And started bustin on niggas and watching every muther fucker try to run
That locc to da brain got a nigga insane with a fucking empty gun
So imma continue to strike and stay alone and maintain my self-pride
Cuz' when I ride it's always locc to da brain
[Chorus: x2]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
[Verse 5: Brotha Lynch Hung]
You can't see me for the fact that the inside of my strap's in your sight
Bout' to put some slugs in your throat and put your guts in my coat and hit
the night Drop a sack of indo in my pipe and it's
EBK everyday until the day I hit my grave-sight
That locc to the brain cuz' it's all redrum
A couple of hits from the purple spliff
and I'm workin a fifth of the coke and rum
I have my twelve gauge-pump decorating niggas brains
Nigga nuts and guts is how we get sick them Northern Cal slayings
That locc to the brain shit ain't no game it's a gang
Them niggas that killed they mama for some fame it ain't no thang
It ain't no way, I dump and let them niggas live
Cuz' where I'm from we rockin up on em'
bustin them reps up in them niggas ribs
It's twelve-o-clock full of that spliff full of that ammo in my glock-nine
Creepin through your set hit the stop
Sign sideways bustin I see gat twenty-four C's
Feel the breeze from the slugs in my nine now
Rest in peace
[Chorus: x4]
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way
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