Sweeney Todd lyrics - Brotha Lynch Hung

[Lauren Brinson:]

The demon barber Sweeney Todd is the English boogieman, the character older children call upon to frighten their friends and younger children

Unruly youngsters are cautioned against misbehaving with threats of being attacked by Sweeney, and served up in a meat pie

[Brotha Lynch Hung:]

Y'all better be high when y'all hear this

This shit is a little different

(Bring the bass)

Okay, let me spit this scripture

After I kill a nigga I pull out the phone and take a quick picture

Niggas call me Sweeney Todd 'cause I cut 'em up and make Philly steaks

Bend the bones and they really break, then refrigerate, I'm a sixer

I saw some shit when I was six and it got my head fucked up

Told my mama homegirl played with my dick (I'm serious, son)

And it felt sick, then about six minutes later it got thick

Then I been nuttin' on their faces ever since

I think I'm missin' the brain

I be sewin' up skin suits and hangin' 'em up in the closet

The rest, I throw that bitch in the bay

I really should keep takin' my Prozac

'Cause I'll make your door wet in a throwback jersey, Tony Dorsett

Baby's mamas suckin' their kid's dick is what I witness

I slit that bitch in the wrist when I seen that shit, God is your witness

I watched her bleed all over the couch, then the bitch start screamin'

So I put the duct tape all over her mouth, after death, start eatin'

Shit, I'm a motherfuckin' barber

With a straight razor and I'm the reason they keep findin' things in the harbor

I brag about it, wrote letters to the police, I don't give a fuck

I put that nine-millimeter to your head before they lock me up

I know, you lookin' for them tight rhymes in the night time

I shine and I spit harder than a pipeline when I write mine

So I ain't worried about your light lines, nigga

I just want your lifeline, for some reason your raps sound just like mine

Okay, let me spit this scripture

Niggas want me to fall and you can see it like a picture

I throw it like a pitcher, you can catch it like a back catcher

Hit you up in the helmet, the ref won't like it, that's suspected

Strip 'em butt-naked, eat it for breakfast, bitch, I cut them sections up

You don't believe it, but they're up in the freezer, they're all sectioned up

I like meat, I just started eatin' vegetables

Hit 'em with the AK-47, now he's a vegetable

See, ready, set, go, behead 'em, family, let go

I'm about to let Tech know, then we 'bout to wet cess, oh!

Then I'm 'bout to have sex, oh! Then I'm 'bout to slit necks, no!

Then I'm 'bout to get wet

I'm a hostile and it's possible that I cut you up so much

That it ain't no need for the hospital

Math couldn't even make you logical

You tryin' to fuck with me, that's who, that's why your whole roster broke

So many can take this wrong, I better watch my back

These niggas'll pop at me, but nigga, I'll pop right back

Strange Music, in the house

Smokin' weed, all day

Get ready, fully loaded

Your boy Spider-Man

Seven on the motherfuckin' beat

And of course, Rob Rebeck, you nah'mean?

Shout outs to Tech N9ne, Kutt Calhoun, Krizz Kaliko, Stevie Stone

Cali Bear Gang, Tall Cann G, COS

Special shout out to my nigga Mellow Yellow

And my nigga Hopsin for gettin' on the tracks with me

G-Macc, Trizz, ¡Mayday!, Irv Da Phenom, my nigga G-Smooth

You nah'mean? Hold up

Chaplin Studios

Thank you for havin' me back

You nah'mean?

It's your boy, aka Spider-Man, in the motherfuckin' house

And I'm out.. and I'm out

And I'm out