Brotha Lynch Hung other songs:

 

Frustrated lyrics - Brotha Lynch Hung

(with Doomsday Productions)

Hey doom niggas

Come get drunk with me

Is it alright?

See what you don't know is

I'm a 5150 a schizo in the mist

I keep my pistol in my grips

You disappear like extra clips

If you fuck with me

Good luck with me

I'm buck 50

Don't worry about trouble 'cause

I brought the truck with me

And I got the cowl 50

That's the only thing I trust lately

That and my babies

'Cause they ain't old enough to turn on me

After it's [?]

Like these paper-plate-ass niggas

And these lying-ass bitches

All I need is me

The rest of you all can die in these ditches

I be a broke motherfucker

Trenchcoat motherfucker

Cut throat plus I'm motherless

And your stomach can't stomach this

My stomach is rumbling

'Cause I'm hungry

Confused and half-dead and one of 'em

Them dark-broom niggas

Spark the room niggas

Start to finish niggas

Then my heart diminish niggas

So let's start it then finish it then back to the start

I used to sing to myself in the dark

Cry in the dark kill in the dark it's all the same

Sometimes I get so high

That's how I cope with life

When things ain't going right I'm frustrated

Fuck you for judging me

Mind yours and let me be

Why can't you niggas see I'm frustrated

My attitude is shitty

When I ain't got no motherfucking money

When I'm hungry

And can't put a damn thing in my stomach

What's frustrating

I'm having problems with my old lady

And lately she been against me and hating

Saying fuck it

I got to keep it ruggish and thuggish

Mean mugging kissing and hugging

I ain't got time for that fucking dumb shit

It's time to kick it and get it twisted

With my homies and some bitches

That's the deal

Everybody straight fucking

It's fucked up when a big-mouth slut

Fucks it up for the rest of us

She's a cousin to us

Nobody wants to fuck with her

She's the ugly one

I hate pussy, eating bitches

I believe pussy belong to dick

And you already know I hate the fuck out of faggots

Powderpuff, twinkle toes, catch blows to the nose

I don't think God meant for niggas

To bump big heads and take it up the asshole

Got to keep it real

No longer debating

This is how I feel

I'm upset and frustrated

Sometimes I get so high

That's how I cope with life

When things ain't going right I'm frustrated

Fuck you for judging me

Mind yours and let me be

Why can't you niggas see I'm frustrated

I'm fixin to knock shit out the box

And be a rabid dog

Bounce bitches off walls

Kill 'em all

'Cause I been strugglin like a tug of war

Since I was born in this wicked ass world

Now it's time to let loose and get the juice

Showin the steel toed boots

And flip the loops

Avoiding all obstacles

Well face 'em head up

Nigga man up

What the fuck

You scared or what

I hit the bottom when my pops died

What fucked me up most is when moms cried

Had to keep my composure (hold it in)

Don't let her be holder (emotionless)

Be a soldier

Now I been tryin to do this music thing

For years and big money ain't came

But I'm tryin to be patient

I'm still waiting

'Bout to break up and shake up shit

'Cause it's frustratin

Shit man I'm tired of bein so motherfucking broke

If I wasn't so broke

I could take care of my mama and my kinfolk

But I'm just stuck out here

By my damn self

Thought I had family out here

But they done fucked me

Didn't even use no Vaseline, none

Ass still hurtin

Trust in motherfuckers

Rollin around with homies

You know what I'm sayin

Thinkin they hard thinkin they down

Flake out like some corn flakes

Kellogg's-ass niggas

Man a nigga like me just can't work at no motherfucking 9-5 job

Got the motherfucking boss fucking off

And I'm doin most of the work gettin paid bullshit

I come in there on time and do my shit and I still get paid shit

Don't even have enough money to pay my motherfucking rent

I gotta do a little hustle

Shit man, there's a black and a white side

Is there a gray area?

I'm lookin for it

Every time it seems like I'm gonna come up

Something always slaps me in the face

Whether it be a Po-Po or a fucking ho

Ho ass niggas not these hoes

I trust no bitch

Done learned that a long time ago

Wish I had my motherfucking pappy with me next time

And give a nigga some knowledge

Teach a nigga something

That nigga flaked off when I was 13

Ho ass motherfucker

And if I find you I'm a whup yo ass too nigga

Tired of bein broke

Worried about my mamma and things

Thinkin about homies that's dead and gone up in the pen

Motherfuckers that's fixin to go to the pen I just see it

Feels like I'm just wastin my breath for some of the homies though

I just don't even know what to do no more man

Man fuck this shit

Fuck it, I'm through

I See Dead Rappers lyrics - Brotha Lynch Hung

What happens when we die?

We return to the place that we came from

I don't remember where I came from

Nor do I

If I wanted to kill somebody, I'd get this boot and I'd beat you to death with it, and I wouldn't feel a thing. It'd be just like walking to the drugstore

[Brotha Lynch Hung:]

I see dead rappers

Daddy got a problem, you don't act right

Bitch if you was my daughter, I would say you was off the crack pipe

But that's my confession, should've watched the ID channel at random and now you in the bed with the IV

You told me when you left, you was going with Tiny, but Tiny just called, you said I can't find me

I was going 90, 20 minutes later, I was hiding under the bed, now you can't find me

You shoulda never made it where you sleep alone, you shoulda got the pistol when you hung up the phone

I slit ya fucking throat and put ya head in the closet, I gave it all away like a money deposit

You shoulda never told me where you keep the loan, so now I'm bout to eat you like a Al Capone

Put your brain in the oven for din-din, a win-win, and I would like to chew on your [?] with a grin-grin

Now I'm gonna wait in the kitchen, my stomach's still growling I'm waiting for you to come in-in

My stomach's still growling I'm waiting for you to come in-in, I see your GPS, you should be here by 8:10

Now you know you're sweating like a 350 engine, oh I see your lights pulling up in the driveway, I say, butcher knife, I eat it my way

Kick your wife and your kids put 'em in MySpace, pretty little box, that I keep in my wine safe

Cut your fucking back, get you down to the throat, start to nut, at the driveway, hop in the ride, start it up

I don't have to get bloody but if I do have to get money

I will hide around the corner with the knife ready to cut better get running

I can pull up money then [?] gotta get it to where I don't have to get hit you with the meat cleaver I don't matter it don't matter cause I see her chopped up like a meat chuck with the heat stuff

I don't give a fuck but 'em in the back of the truck

And tell him if he had that swords, I just reach and take the sword and pull 'em down his feet! And I pay attention when I'm talking to you! That's where it comes from, it didn't come from no fucking book. Stand up or I'll knock your fucking brains out, ya dig what I'm saying? Handcuff the son of a bitch down there and let me I'll show you how I interrogate the motherfucker, ya dig what I'm saying? I'll reach in your brain and tear your fucking soul out and throw it on the floor!

I smell, wait hold up, I see dead people

3 dead people, murder up to the 1st degree

BBQ people, like a picnic get ya wig split, I'mma motherfucking monster with it, sick with liquid spit, Sicx did this, I was dead a long time ago, eating rappers heads off like I was smoke all kinds of dope

Grr, anaconda, give a nigga all kind of trouble

Another rapper fucking with me, must be some kind of joke

Ha ha, nigga I'm a dinosaur, Jurassic get ya head twisted off after I do a whole line of coke

Goddammit I'm high, bout to rip a nigga from the spine, eat out his insides

I got a Activision, 4D like a television, that's the action, leaving ya whole family missing

You can't find 'em cause I'm cooking 'em in the kitchen

Never mind, I already done the dishes

I see dead rappers

I see dead rappers

I see dead rappers

I see dead rappers

I see dead rappers

I see dead rappers

Like that

[Charles Manson:] Nobody

Is Anybody Listening? lyrics - Brotha Lynch Hung

(with Doomsday Productions)

Is anybody listening?

Is anybody listening?

I'm all alone in this world

Anybody listening?

Is anybody listening?

I'm all alone in this world

Is anybody listening?

Is anybody, anybody, anybody listening?

I'm alone in this world

Anybody listening?

Hard sometimes

I'm alone in this world

It's hard sometimes

I guess not

Cause if they was

They would've heard my pain

Years ago, when I was out there screaming help!

Servin cane and the tears'll flow down my face

Hard not to frown around this place

My homey just went down for eight

My other one just got found in a lake

So I pour the gin, down it straight

Cause liquor's all that cures me

When I'm in this here fucked up mind state

And the whole damn world ignores me

It's like, I ain't trippin y'all

Just sippin more and sippin hard

I cook it soft

I cut it raw

I hit the block and flip it all

I been locked in juvie hall

I been locked in the county jail

For a trunk gun charge and possession for sales

They held your boy without no bail

And I'm knowin they hopin' I'm next to fail

Which cat is next to tell?

Snitchin motherfuckers in my community

Better be next to bail or catch the next of shells

I've been livin next to hell for so long

The difference between is one and the real one I can't tell

I light the blunt, inhale, exhale

Then get to whisperin

Just rappin' to myself

Cause ain't nobody the fuck else listenin'

Is anybody listening?

Is anybody listening?

I'm all alone in this world

So hard

Anybody listening? Is anybody listening??

I'm all alone in this world

Is anybody listening?

Is anybody, anybody, anybody listening?

I'm alone in this world

Anybody listenin'?

Is anybody listening?

I'm all alone in this world

Tryin to hold on in these last days man

I can't keep my grip cause most of the time

These brothers ain't carin about jack

So there's no tomorrow

The horrors of the after life

Feelin like I'm already in hell

Done died twice

Stabbed in the back with a knife

These brothers was triflin'

Shootin off at the mouth

Like they didn't hear the G speak

It makes no difference

This is my life

Ain't gotta be blowed out the pipe

The situation crack

The reason why my daddy never came back

To be the man of the house

I'm on my own with all the doubt

How would I make it out without no father figure?

So I ran with the other thug niggas

Became slash drug dealers

Can't rest my head on no pillow

Dazed by Sleepy Hollow

A world full of danger

I'm no stranger at the crime scene

Investigators all in my program

Cause I got off in that Brougham

Don't know the 'Rip who knockin at my door

I ain't never been the type to live the slow-life

Now they don't understand me no more

So we can't communicate, went through it on my own

That's why I can't pick up the phone

No one know what's goin on

No one know what's goin on

Is anybody listening?

Is anybody, anybody, anybody listening?

I'm all alone in this world

Anybody, anybody

Anybody listening?

Is anybody? Anybody? Anybody?

I'm all alone in this world

Anybody? Anybody?

Is anybody listening?

Oh, I just wanna know

I'm alone in this world

Have I got somebody's attention?

Anybody listening?

Are you listening to me?

I'm all alone in this world

All alone, oh

I been stridin and tryin to do these music thang

Since 85', 86'

Nowadays it's about the paper chase

But when I first started

It was just for kicks

That's what I'm talkin about

It ain't easy tryin to be a billionaire

When everyday yellin but my day closer to death

Lovin every breath

No time to spare

But I ain't lookin for sympathy

Gods strength done blessed the hell out of me

My momma's alive, got a baby on the way

Got a job while I'm getting paid to save

Your parents had it harder than what you do

So what you cryin about?

These little things that you goin through

Ain't nothing to be talkin bout dyin' about

But that's what life is

You here to learn so take your lumps

And while you drivin on a high with a life through stress and stripes

It's straight speed bumps

Slow you role

Take that bump easy and mash the gas

Solvent road ahead

Watch for the po-po's, just don't look back

Playboy 7!

And I'm out, I'm done, I'll see ya

We ain't never met and probably never will

But homey trust me, I feel ya

So yeah, I'm listening

And naw homey, you ain't alone

But see, I can't solve your problems

That's up to you

That's apart of livin life

That's apart of being grown

Is anybody listening?

Oh is anybody listening to me, are you?

I'm all alone in this world

Anybody listening?

Is anybody listening?

I'm all alone in this world

Anybody listening?

Is anybody listening?

We all make mistakes sometimes

I'm alone in this world

Nobody

Anybody listening?

Nobody's listening

I'm all alone in this world

The Spyda lyrics - Brotha Lynch Hung

You could sleep if you wanna, them niggas is goners

Don't make me eat this microphone up, cut ya cojones

Roll on you like Daytona, let em think what they wanna

But they [?] they say if they wanna, they know I'm the hunter, killer!

With the nine milla them graveyards gon' fill up

If I gotta get my skrill about heating your ville up

I'm still livin' rough, blue dickies and chucks

And I got the Ese homies that'll give me the stuff

Then I run up in ya hut, I'm a mothafuckin' nut

Nigga that love to tuck the stuff, use it when times get rough

Usually when times get rough shit I start the thinkin'

If you wanna test the spitz better start the thinkin'

Better spark the engine, fool I'm fast and furious

And you niggas is bitches be on them thirty day periods

Psst Spider-Man, I can make you niggas follow me like a pied piper can

Ya you better think about it 'fore yo body stink about it

Siccmade, we do you like cable we reroute it

Just read about it, first you see the power lodged in the gun powder

Just gimme just one hour and ya done daughter

Just give me the four fiver and I'm goin' rider

DJ epic scratchin' it up like a tiger

I spit fire like a big lighter, I'm raw tighter, come and get your nuts fried up

The Spyda

You can leak if you wanna speak on a nigga

We can take it to the back, I put a G on a nigga

House to whole house, put a lean on a nigga

Lean out the Chevy machines, black with heavy with impact

Deadly rhymes to wear, time for bed, two in the head

I spit ya 'til I'm blue in the head

Ya doin' the death dance and I'm runnin' off with red hands

I was too close but don't worry, east coast

I got it poppin' the most and I probably got the hottest spot on the coast

Spyda man locc

Supply the man dope shit, and I hit him with the for fifth if he blow shit

'Cause you know shit get drastic, bodies wrapped in plastic

Maserati get blasted, kamikaze ta-tactics

That's how it goes, shit. Psst I'm outta here smooth as lotion

The Spyda

"Coathanga Strangla" (2011)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Chorus x4]

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

[Chorus x4]

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

[Chorus x4]

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

GRRR

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

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

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

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

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

album: "Dinner And A Movie" (2010)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Hook X2]

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

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

[Hook X2]

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

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

[Hook X2]

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

Sit In That Corner Bitch! Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Chorus (x2)]

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

[Chorus (x2)]

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

[Chorus (x2)]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Chorus]

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

Meat Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

Alarm clock, I hate alarm clocks*

Hey babe I gotta get up
Real shit ya'll

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

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

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

[Chorus]

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

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

[Chorus]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lynch By Inch: Suicide Note" (2003)

Spydie's Birth Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

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

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

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

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

[Chorus]

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

[Chorus x2]

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

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

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

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

[Hook]

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

[Hook]

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

[Hook]

I Went From Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One mo' time everybody

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Hook]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Hook]

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

[Hook]

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

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

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

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

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

[Chorus x2]

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

[Chorus x2]

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

Death Dance Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung

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

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

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

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

[Chorus x2]

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

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

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

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

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

[Hook x2]

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

[Hook x2]