Q Ball!
So what really happened nigga? I understand ain't nobody did shit.
Ain't nobody did shit for my 'causezin.
Where dem niggaz at dat said dey'd put it all on da line?
'cause nigga... only a child could empty a gun toward da sky.
I gotta kno where niggaz' heads at, 'cause my 'causezin still ain't got no peace yet.
So all you muthafuckas wanna know where I stand?
Nigga I stand right next to my 'causezin E Mill nigga, you know what I'm sayin?
And dat's on da Blocc nigga. However you wanna handle dat shit nigga.
[Brotha Lynch]
Look up in da sky! It's a muthafuckin slug!
Some nigga done let one off and only my 'causezin sheddin blood
Dat loccest muthafucka frum twenty ninth street throwin up his flag
Sum nigga got mad
And went to da crib fo da 44 mag
Return to da set up and let my 'causezin have it
Da nigga dat die for da Garden Blocc Gang, did time for da Garden Blocc
And ended up stuck in a muthaf**kin casket, but I don't be givin a fuck
I'm tappin up in yo program
Before you know it I'm creepin up on you in a licorice dar kblack drop top rohan
Wit a 12 gauge pump in da trunk and a clip full of funk and a fat purple cush blunt
So call it what u want
I call it da fever of da FUNK HOUSE
Dumpin gauge shells in dat ass
Leavin ya face down, chest down wit a gang of guts hangin out yo ass
Nigga, you know da process. They wanna kill me now
I'm a dead man walkin till my funeral can you feel me now?
And if I die, before yo second blasted
Dat's on da Garden I'ma rise up out my casket
[Chorus]
I'm liquer sicc and I just might lose control
So load yo clips, loccs, 'cause we ridin for my folks
[x2]
[Brotha Lynch]
And I'm out in da 6-5, HARDTOP IMPALA lookin for dat 187
There he go! And I'm right behind him bustin wit my Mac-11
Str8 bumper ta bumper 12 gauge pumpin was dat lil lex locstah
Givin up his set and dumpin on niggaz just like he supposed ta
Nigga dis is real deal. Shit, it's not about crip or blood
It's about payback, dat family luv
So nigga now fuck yo whole clique
Like 24 deep they tryin ta kill me for my fuckin tapes
Dem baby rapes, so nigga get out my fuckin face
If I was really bangin niggaz would know 'cause I'd have they whole set
Lookin like LA when da earthquake hit. Nigga, fuckin wit my tec
I'm frum da Garden Blocc no matter what nobody say
I'm makin my money not lettin dat bangin shit get in my way
Niggaz get mad, they wanna see da Lynch rippin
I'm wearin blue yeah, but muthafucka, I ain't even trippin
But for my 'causezin Q Ball, Mr Docc & Six
My 'causezin Eclipse and two of my kids, nigga, fetch these clips
[Chorus]
[Brotha Lynch]
There ain't no fuckin way
My 'causezin gonna lay up in a casket wit no retaliation
There ain't no fuckin way
Dat muthafucka died for da Blocc, so let's heat dem muthafuckin glocks
There ain't no fuckin way
My 'causezin gonna lay up in a casket wit no retaliation
There ain't no fuckin way
Dat muthafucka died for da Blocc, so let's heat dem muthafuckin glocks
You know what I'm sayin? This time it ain't gon be shootin in da muthafuckin air nigga.
We takin out bones you know. 'cause dat nigga woulda did it for us you know.
I gotta do what I gotta do, you know what I'm sayin?
Tried to sit up here and do my music thang you know?
Then my 'causezin got rolled on you know?
Dem niggaz frum da Garden don't do nuthin now, we all gon get rolled up.
Like a fat ass blunt nigga. So wassup?
I'm puttin my life on da line for dis shit,
they wanna kill me 'cause I'm rappin, you know what I'm sayin? Wassup niggaz?
Dedicated to my 'causezin Q Ball. Rest In Peace nigga.
To dem otha muthafuckas, fuck peace.
Liquor Sicc Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Hung]
Look up in the sky it's a motherfuckin slug
Some nigga done let one off and only my cousins sheddin' blood
That loccest muthafucka from 29 st. throwin up his flag
so nigga got madd and went to the crib with a .45 mag
returned to the set-up and let my cousin have it
that nigga that died for the garden blocc
gang did time for the garden blocc
and ended up stuck in a muthafuckin casket but i dont be givin a fuck
im tappin up in your program before you know it
I'm creepin up on ya in a licorice dark black drop-top broham
with a 12 gauge pump in da trunk and a clip full of funk
and a fat purple cush blunt so call it what you want
I call it the fever of da funkhouse
Dumpin gauge shells in that ass leavin you face down
chest down with a gang of guts hangin out yo ass nigga
you know tha process they wanna kill me
now I'm a dead man walkin to my funeral can you feel me
now and if die before your set gets blasted
that's on the garden cause I'm gonna rise up out my casket
[Chorus: x2]
I'm liquor sicc and I just might lose control
so load your clips loccs cause we ridin for our foes
[Hung]
And im out in 6 5' hardtop impala lookin for that 187
there we go and right behind em bustin wit my mack 11
straight bumpa to bumpa 12 gage pump was that little X loccsta
givin up his set dumpin on niggas just like hes supposed ta
nigga this is real deal shit its not about crip or blood
it's about pay back that family loves
so nigga now fuck yo whole click
like 24 deep they tryin ta kill me fo my fuckin tapes
them baby rapes so nigga get out my fuckin face
If I was really bangin niggaz would know
cause I'd have they whole set lookin like L.A. when da earthquake hit
nigga fuckin wit my tek I'm from da garden blocc
No matter what nobody say I'm makin my money
and not lettin that bangin shit get in my way
Niggaz get mad they wanna see the lynch rippin
I'm wearing blue yeah but motherfucker I ain't even trippin
but for cousin Q-Ball, Mr.Doc,and Sicx my cousin eclipse
and 2 of my kidz nigga catch these clips
[Chorus]
[Hung]
There aint no fuckin way my cousin's
gonna lay up in a casket wit no retaliation
there aint no fuckin way that motherfucker died for that blocc
so lets heat them motherfuckin glocks [x2]
Look up in the sky it's a motherfuckin slug
Some nigga done let one off and only my cousins sheddin' blood
That loccest muthafucka from 29 st. throwin up his flag
so nigga got madd and went to the crib with a .45 mag
returned to the set-up and let my cousin have it
that nigga that died for the garden blocc
gang did time for the garden blocc
and ended up stuck in a muthafuckin casket but i dont be givin a fuck
im tappin up in your program before you know it
I'm creepin up on ya in a licorice dark black drop-top broham
with a 12 gauge pump in da trunk and a clip full of funk
and a fat purple cush blunt so call it what you want
I call it the fever of da funkhouse
Dumpin gauge shells in that ass leavin you face down
chest down with a gang of guts hangin out yo ass nigga
you know tha process they wanna kill me
now I'm a dead man walkin to my funeral can you feel me
now and if die before your set gets blasted
that's on the garden cause I'm gonna rise up out my casket
[Chorus: x2]
I'm liquor sicc and I just might lose control
so load your clips loccs cause we ridin for our foes
[Hung]
And im out in 6 5' hardtop impala lookin for that 187
there we go and right behind em bustin wit my mack 11
straight bumpa to bumpa 12 gage pump was that little X loccsta
givin up his set dumpin on niggas just like hes supposed ta
nigga this is real deal shit its not about crip or blood
it's about pay back that family loves
so nigga now fuck yo whole click
like 24 deep they tryin ta kill me fo my fuckin tapes
them baby rapes so nigga get out my fuckin face
If I was really bangin niggaz would know
cause I'd have they whole set lookin like L.A. when da earthquake hit
nigga fuckin wit my tek I'm from da garden blocc
No matter what nobody say I'm makin my money
and not lettin that bangin shit get in my way
Niggaz get mad they wanna see the lynch rippin
I'm wearing blue yeah but motherfucker I ain't even trippin
but for cousin Q-Ball, Mr.Doc,and Sicx my cousin eclipse
and 2 of my kidz nigga catch these clips
[Chorus]
[Hung]
There aint no fuckin way my cousin's
gonna lay up in a casket wit no retaliation
there aint no fuckin way that motherfucker died for that blocc
so lets heat them motherfuckin glocks [x2]
Datz Real Gangsta Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Sicx over top
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
It was a dark blue night, nigga toe down sleep
Had a 40 once of E and half once of weed
Just got fooled rockin gangsta shit
My nigga Sicx fucked around and took Pooh-Man's bitch
Rider in cut and got her all fucked up
It was all just us, bout to bust fat nuts
Sluts get dug like a grave when I'm high
Shootin out the barrel of a 7 inch by 5
With a nut all in your dome, slit fulla that home grown, shit
Bout to pull em up on with that limp
Then I'm out, ready to take the back rout the the freeway
Grab anotha hoe and a 4-0 on the way
And I'ma know, that's the fools do it in the Locced Blocc
Makin hoes nut, 5000 with the 9 Glock
And you gotta know that it just don't stop
Mr. Redrum, Redrum on the cock and my nigga say
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Sicx over top
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean (and my nigga say)
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Mr. Doc in the bathroom
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Now it was all that night that we hooked shit up
Had hoes, 4-0's and 9's in the cut
Just case, niggas want funk we got the right guards
Spray straight Uzi on them nigga evryday
And it's the Baby, the Bady dead-a sleep
Toe down drunk, must have been drinkin Ol E
While Mr. D-O-C ?? his G
With a hoe and B-I-T-C-H my nigga Art be
Rapin those hoes, takin those hoes to the room
Drop the crop and let the trigga go BOOM
And me? Man I'm just a G
Kick back witta 4-0 and let em come to me
One for e-ach and every single nigga on the third floor
Smoke a half of O and forget what you heard hoe
And you gotta know that it just don't stop
Mr. Redrum, Redrum on the cock and my nigga say
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Mr. Doc in the bathroom
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean, my nigga
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Lynch over top
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean, my nigg
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Sicx over top
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
It was a dark blue night, nigga toe down sleep
Had a 40 once of E and half once of weed
Just got fooled rockin gangsta shit
My nigga Sicx fucked around and took Pooh-Man's bitch
Rider in cut and got her all fucked up
It was all just us, bout to bust fat nuts
Sluts get dug like a grave when I'm high
Shootin out the barrel of a 7 inch by 5
With a nut all in your dome, slit fulla that home grown, shit
Bout to pull em up on with that limp
Then I'm out, ready to take the back rout the the freeway
Grab anotha hoe and a 4-0 on the way
And I'ma know, that's the fools do it in the Locced Blocc
Makin hoes nut, 5000 with the 9 Glock
And you gotta know that it just don't stop
Mr. Redrum, Redrum on the cock and my nigga say
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Sicx over top
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean (and my nigga say)
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Mr. Doc in the bathroom
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Now it was all that night that we hooked shit up
Had hoes, 4-0's and 9's in the cut
Just case, niggas want funk we got the right guards
Spray straight Uzi on them nigga evryday
And it's the Baby, the Bady dead-a sleep
Toe down drunk, must have been drinkin Ol E
While Mr. D-O-C ?? his G
With a hoe and B-I-T-C-H my nigga Art be
Rapin those hoes, takin those hoes to the room
Drop the crop and let the trigga go BOOM
And me? Man I'm just a G
Kick back witta 4-0 and let em come to me
One for e-ach and every single nigga on the third floor
Smoke a half of O and forget what you heard hoe
And you gotta know that it just don't stop
Mr. Redrum, Redrum on the cock and my nigga say
[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Mr. Doc in the bathroom
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean, my nigga
Uhh, now that's real gangsta shit
Pack 10 and on a bitch in a Hotel Six
40 on the back, Lynch over top
Diggin in a spleen witta gangsta lean, my nigg
Deep Down Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Mr. Doctor)
[Brotha Lynch]
Yeah I could load a 9 up everyday, but why
My locc's told me homie make them tapes
And keep that 24 block alive
But if I feel I'm in need, I got's to ride
Carry a 9 for straight business, not just a side
Man it's the night-mare, creepin up in the cut
I'm hittin dice games, barbeques, no matter what
The things I've seen'll make ya throw up
Flaunt your flag, shoot your gats, hit your dank
Where I'm from that's how ya grow up
Man it's that wicked and 9 millimeter
Carrier bein stereo-typed daily
Ya got's to feel me, foo it's that baby
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm strapped
Ya heard it I got my own back-fade
Out into the 'lac and hit the city of Sac
Them homies given me that
But you got them fools that want a foe then
They wonderin why I'm carryin me a 12 gauge pump
Man I ain't no punk
The average everyday thug that's how it sounds
I'm defendin myself, and loadin that mili
And leaving em layin
[Chorus x4]
Deep down, there's a place for hope
[Mr. Doctor]
I guess it's hard to explain why I'm feelin how I'm feelin
I guess I'm feelin sorrow cus my homies got some stealin
And foos would say that it's my fault I bet
See cus I wasn't strapped yo, but I can't fuck my set
How could I know that them foos would blast?
Later on, on my folks
It's funny how this bangin's got its different strokes
I think about my loccs and how they made it
Though I'm stressin from the fact
They gotta suffer from a bullet hole
And Mr. Doctor just don't have hope locc
It's only been a month, since my last down partner got smoked
And rivals is deep, up in my city foo
Since I'm on the underground team, I can't have no peace
My life is tore up so I guess I'm stuck
Yeah, I got my St. Ides, I'm turnin it up
To get drunk, then I post up on the street
While I say to myself, for the block
Homie rest in peace
[Chorus x4]
[Brotha Lynch]
They say that ain't the way to handle that type funk
But now I'm loadin up the strap, smokin on that blunt
Just cus the Brotha Hung is flag-up
What that mean, I can't ride?
Why G's up in my face, I'm bout to help them ride
I keep a low pro, drink the 4-0
And lounge until it's time to go
Shinin up the forty-fo
Rollin up the boogey-boo, indo
And hopin if I should die, before I'm high
That they bury me in 50 pounds of chocolate thai
I got them homies from the south-side givin it up and
Them homies from the east-side slangin that stuff and
I'm right up in the middle tryin to hang on and
Tryin not to end up like them niggas doin time in the pen
But then again
I'm down for when the homies is ready to roll em up
You know, stick in a dark-blue cut
And as I'm creepin through ya set
Trip, don't get caught up, shot up
The gardenblock locc's, man we leave em layin
[Chorus x4]
Yeah I could load a 9 up everyday, but why
My locc's told me homie make them tapes
And keep that 24 block alive
But if I feel I'm in need, I got's to ride
Carry a 9 for straight business, not just a side
Man it's the night-mare, creepin up in the cut
I'm hittin dice games, barbeques, no matter what
The things I've seen'll make ya throw up
Flaunt your flag, shoot your gats, hit your dank
Where I'm from that's how ya grow up
Man it's that wicked and 9 millimeter
Carrier bein stereo-typed daily
Ya got's to feel me, foo it's that baby
Killas run around everyday that's why I'm strapped
Ya heard it I got my own back-fade
Out into the 'lac and hit the city of Sac
Them homies given me that
But you got them fools that want a foe then
They wonderin why I'm carryin me a 12 gauge pump
Man I ain't no punk
The average everyday thug that's how it sounds
I'm defendin myself, and loadin that mili
And leaving em layin
[Chorus x4]
Deep down, there's a place for hope
[Mr. Doctor]
I guess it's hard to explain why I'm feelin how I'm feelin
I guess I'm feelin sorrow cus my homies got some stealin
And foos would say that it's my fault I bet
See cus I wasn't strapped yo, but I can't fuck my set
How could I know that them foos would blast?
Later on, on my folks
It's funny how this bangin's got its different strokes
I think about my loccs and how they made it
Though I'm stressin from the fact
They gotta suffer from a bullet hole
And Mr. Doctor just don't have hope locc
It's only been a month, since my last down partner got smoked
And rivals is deep, up in my city foo
Since I'm on the underground team, I can't have no peace
My life is tore up so I guess I'm stuck
Yeah, I got my St. Ides, I'm turnin it up
To get drunk, then I post up on the street
While I say to myself, for the block
Homie rest in peace
[Chorus x4]
[Brotha Lynch]
They say that ain't the way to handle that type funk
But now I'm loadin up the strap, smokin on that blunt
Just cus the Brotha Hung is flag-up
What that mean, I can't ride?
Why G's up in my face, I'm bout to help them ride
I keep a low pro, drink the 4-0
And lounge until it's time to go
Shinin up the forty-fo
Rollin up the boogey-boo, indo
And hopin if I should die, before I'm high
That they bury me in 50 pounds of chocolate thai
I got them homies from the south-side givin it up and
Them homies from the east-side slangin that stuff and
I'm right up in the middle tryin to hang on and
Tryin not to end up like them niggas doin time in the pen
But then again
I'm down for when the homies is ready to roll em up
You know, stick in a dark-blue cut
And as I'm creepin through ya set
Trip, don't get caught up, shot up
The gardenblock locc's, man we leave em layin
[Chorus x4]
Dead Man Walking Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
Thus the nigga in that casket hotboxin
How many muthafuckers wanna empty out they glocks in me
The gangbangers most wanted
The first nigga caught me in my side
And my set didn't ride
So I'm locc to the mutherfucking brain
50 pounds of dank in my casket
I'm bout to take my last splift
Before I make that move to insane
Records of a criminal for baby killin nothin
40 ounces wit my game
Them niggas that kill they momma for some fame
For the ripgut trigga to hit what muthafuckers in my aim;
Even my momma tried to take me out the game
By heating up some Brandy and taking it to the dome because I came;
With the siccness and it's just the dank that I smoke
Making me load that millimeter putting deuce up in your throat;
Murder she wrote, in the book, as a gang related homicide
Reality check nigga for the fact she giving it up
It's suicide for the do or the die
True or the die each time
One after each as I creep through the streets
With a 9 millimeter up under my seat
I pack heat, deep cuz a nigga like me can't be played cheap;
blink, before I'm leaving this niggas guts up in the street;
peep, ever since nigga deep I gotta carry me something
Cuz everywhere I go niggas 12 gauge pumping
I wan't them to know when my 44 bust
I'm taking this niggas brain hookin him up
And murderin niggas up
Then I give it up, then I'm in the cut
5 triple 0 double o Mosburg pump
Point it at your grill
Ready to bust for the fact some call me still
The hardest nigga in that casket hotboxing
So who those muthafuckers that wanna empty out they glocks in me;
Think 24 times fool fo you come wit yo punk 9's
Cuz nigga you nigga me, my oozie say its dinnertime
That ripgut cannibal mind for the shit that make them violent crimes;
That's atheist so feel the sign
A deadman walkin
How many muthafuckers wanna empty out they glocks in me
The gangbangers most wanted
The first nigga caught me in my side
And my set didn't ride
So I'm locc to the mutherfucking brain
50 pounds of dank in my casket
I'm bout to take my last splift
Before I make that move to insane
Records of a criminal for baby killin nothin
40 ounces wit my game
Them niggas that kill they momma for some fame
For the ripgut trigga to hit what muthafuckers in my aim;
Even my momma tried to take me out the game
By heating up some Brandy and taking it to the dome because I came;
With the siccness and it's just the dank that I smoke
Making me load that millimeter putting deuce up in your throat;
Murder she wrote, in the book, as a gang related homicide
Reality check nigga for the fact she giving it up
It's suicide for the do or the die
True or the die each time
One after each as I creep through the streets
With a 9 millimeter up under my seat
I pack heat, deep cuz a nigga like me can't be played cheap;
blink, before I'm leaving this niggas guts up in the street;
peep, ever since nigga deep I gotta carry me something
Cuz everywhere I go niggas 12 gauge pumping
I wan't them to know when my 44 bust
I'm taking this niggas brain hookin him up
And murderin niggas up
Then I give it up, then I'm in the cut
5 triple 0 double o Mosburg pump
Point it at your grill
Ready to bust for the fact some call me still
The hardest nigga in that casket hotboxing
So who those muthafuckers that wanna empty out they glocks in me;
Think 24 times fool fo you come wit yo punk 9's
Cuz nigga you nigga me, my oozie say its dinnertime
That ripgut cannibal mind for the shit that make them violent crimes;
That's atheist so feel the sign
A deadman walkin
781 Redrum Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
40 ounces of tha liccer
16 in tha clip
Crumble the herb
Roll a spliff
Bout to make ya brain split
16 in tha clip
Crumble the herb
Roll a spliff
Bout to make ya brain split
Season Of Da Siccness Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Sicx)
Hit the dank and took my glock off lock, and off
To the 21st blocc, I'm rollin in a drop top
Three for zero that black criminal mac mac nigga
That pap! pap! me hittin a couple of rounds
And while I test him, hey fuck a Smith & Wesson
I got my, nine at my chest and I got my dime bag
Of stress weed, a 40 oz. of OE and I'm creepin
Up on some niggas in a mob and a nigga claimin OG,
Pap! hit him in that dome and it was that nigga's worst
Put him on the ground wit a brain, full o' dem nine slugs
So wrap that nigga up, put him in a hearse
And I'm hittin 50, right around that curb, tight,
Rollin up in a 64, 4 doors sideways to the next light (YOU KNOW)
An I hit that corner of 24 street, some nigga mean mugging
Lynch, and I pop in a clip and I'm not finna get got,
I'ma shoot before I'm shot for the fact I'm B-U-Double D-E-D
I'm reaching up in my glove box, for the welfare weed
That's fillin a nigga's siccness so I miss dead bodies
In an, oldsmobile, up on the curb and while I'm skirtin
Pass the view wit an empty 9 and some bourbon (riiight)
I just adjust to the fact that niggas aint got no hope
I'm fillin em up with 16s, and letting em know
[Chorus]
It's either that die, or that sickness, and it's the nigga that nigga that
One you come see, with that 9 millimeter meter watch them 9 millimeter meat
Wikkihdie come, Wikkihtah come, Wikkihtah come, Wikkihtah E-drop, styling,
If I don't get you with me nina then me, you, scream,
And two pop nigga that mine in the deuce for the deuce
Without them gun shells, firing, fidda them don't know me when me high
Off them doughshot killa weed, me take-a me nine millimeter nine,
And me blast him, enemy for the die, 'cause of dat siccness dem creep
And ten baumy and a them say
Load up that nine I'm finna finna go boom!
Them no dubbin up that nina cut them in half with some of them
Ripgut, quality, for the fundamental cannibalism
Got them black enemy runnin in and when them,
Sickness kick in a million, baby dying, boom!
Hit em with my G like every day, nigga,
From the creek to the Garden Blocc,
I was creepin from the double dead red till all the drama stop,
And 50 150 is all that shouldn't even be on a niggas list
'cause since for the fuckin with I've been crazy times 6 charging in '66 and um,
Niggas cant see my folk when I dump them .44 slugs all down they throat
It takes one time, all night, to peel your tonsols
From the phone post, you know,
All up in the cut with the real deuce deuce four love I got
But you know that nigga from the creek so peep at what this trigger got
Come follow me sin, come quick 'cause I'm bustin all up on your, blocc
Shakin up yo nuts like dice deuce four in the don't strike twice
Them gon all go say "oh" about 44 times till so,
Much later than you go, better off dead, but nigga instead
That I let your mama know, she might wanna follow this Fahlivum shit
'cause a nigga wont last much longer, with wraps in the cut
Chewin all on your nuts like my nigga Jeffrey Dahlmer,
Cant load that shit that sickness gets me harder than a corpse
Till I reach for the greeds that nigga start jackin off until it hurts
Swallow my shit so thick this nigga run loccs up on you almost daily
For the digs then I'm off dick grow soft with lynch I'm chewin up babies
We gonna stay sicc, for the crazy run em up gospel shit kicks in
It's the nigga named 6 with the locc to the brain style fix
Eatin up your dead skin
[Chorus]
To the 21st blocc, I'm rollin in a drop top
Three for zero that black criminal mac mac nigga
That pap! pap! me hittin a couple of rounds
And while I test him, hey fuck a Smith & Wesson
I got my, nine at my chest and I got my dime bag
Of stress weed, a 40 oz. of OE and I'm creepin
Up on some niggas in a mob and a nigga claimin OG,
Pap! hit him in that dome and it was that nigga's worst
Put him on the ground wit a brain, full o' dem nine slugs
So wrap that nigga up, put him in a hearse
And I'm hittin 50, right around that curb, tight,
Rollin up in a 64, 4 doors sideways to the next light (YOU KNOW)
An I hit that corner of 24 street, some nigga mean mugging
Lynch, and I pop in a clip and I'm not finna get got,
I'ma shoot before I'm shot for the fact I'm B-U-Double D-E-D
I'm reaching up in my glove box, for the welfare weed
That's fillin a nigga's siccness so I miss dead bodies
In an, oldsmobile, up on the curb and while I'm skirtin
Pass the view wit an empty 9 and some bourbon (riiight)
I just adjust to the fact that niggas aint got no hope
I'm fillin em up with 16s, and letting em know
[Chorus]
It's either that die, or that sickness, and it's the nigga that nigga that
One you come see, with that 9 millimeter meter watch them 9 millimeter meat
Wikkihdie come, Wikkihtah come, Wikkihtah come, Wikkihtah E-drop, styling,
If I don't get you with me nina then me, you, scream,
And two pop nigga that mine in the deuce for the deuce
Without them gun shells, firing, fidda them don't know me when me high
Off them doughshot killa weed, me take-a me nine millimeter nine,
And me blast him, enemy for the die, 'cause of dat siccness dem creep
And ten baumy and a them say
Load up that nine I'm finna finna go boom!
Them no dubbin up that nina cut them in half with some of them
Ripgut, quality, for the fundamental cannibalism
Got them black enemy runnin in and when them,
Sickness kick in a million, baby dying, boom!
Hit em with my G like every day, nigga,
From the creek to the Garden Blocc,
I was creepin from the double dead red till all the drama stop,
And 50 150 is all that shouldn't even be on a niggas list
'cause since for the fuckin with I've been crazy times 6 charging in '66 and um,
Niggas cant see my folk when I dump them .44 slugs all down they throat
It takes one time, all night, to peel your tonsols
From the phone post, you know,
All up in the cut with the real deuce deuce four love I got
But you know that nigga from the creek so peep at what this trigger got
Come follow me sin, come quick 'cause I'm bustin all up on your, blocc
Shakin up yo nuts like dice deuce four in the don't strike twice
Them gon all go say "oh" about 44 times till so,
Much later than you go, better off dead, but nigga instead
That I let your mama know, she might wanna follow this Fahlivum shit
'cause a nigga wont last much longer, with wraps in the cut
Chewin all on your nuts like my nigga Jeffrey Dahlmer,
Cant load that shit that sickness gets me harder than a corpse
Till I reach for the greeds that nigga start jackin off until it hurts
Swallow my shit so thick this nigga run loccs up on you almost daily
For the digs then I'm off dick grow soft with lynch I'm chewin up babies
We gonna stay sicc, for the crazy run em up gospel shit kicks in
It's the nigga named 6 with the locc to the brain style fix
Eatin up your dead skin
[Chorus]
Welcome 2 Your Own Death Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
As I bail through the woods of the southside
Terrors on nine milli chrome kill alone cause I trust no snitch
When I peel a dome and bail
Gone like hell right through the do
I'm rollin' a fat sack of red boogy boo, nigga ooh
Watch me bail nigga but you don't see me though
Cause I'm rollin' fat sacks in the back of my vehicle
But takin' a puff of the dank stuff
and enough that double O-A-E dooz me
I'm slowly loadin' up the oozy
Well now who's he
Well it's that dead motherfucker doe
Well whatcha know comin' through with that murder mo
And I heard you know now whose been bustin' up on the garden block
You either give up the information,
nigga I get shots, so nigga nah WHAT!
I guess you wanna dose of this milla
Twenty-four shots from that mommas baby killa
Nigga mack hustla, cap busta, infact I'm just a mack ten
Bustin' em at your chin before I crept nigga
Welcome to your own death
[Chorus x6]
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap and true is the game) [x2]
So niggas miss my sicc
Some niggas don't know me, niggas don't know my click
That O-loc-double-C-O-G rip gut canibal type of shit
Plus many more caps bust
Anymore sacks to roll up, we need that high back
So niggas done load them nins and pull them high jacks
And lie back in the cut and roll another fat one up
Tack one up for loc to the brain
Them niggas that really don't give a fuck
Around and get buck, shot it up and dump in a truck and left in a cut
So nigga now whatcha gon do with a mini mack ten ten at yo gut
Plus niggas nuts and guts is what I rips for
Creepin' up in a six four impala
Mobbin' a loots all up to make you vomit from the raw gut cause
Nah what I do is let my nine do the talkin'
Leavin' you walkin' to your funeral low
Diggin'? yo smoke from the mack 1-0
I had ya pussin' just in case
I got me a mack eleven for your face that's leavin' no trace
Caps leavin' a gate and puttin' holes in a niggas neck
So watch the reeper when I creep crept
Welcome to your own death
[Chorus x6]
When I hit the block with a nine
Them fools better be duckin'
My nigga duck got out the car and started buckin' at niggas runnin'
untraceable gage shells
Only worriers goin' to hell
And 5-0 they just can't swoop
See cause we mobbin' too well
My murder file done pile more than a nigga expected
See cause have of the city of Sac still ain't accepted
That I'm a pack and when I'm sweated I'ma put in work
Cause my O-T told me why Jesus got to kick up some dirt
And I'm tired of warnin' a motherfucker about a nigga like me
When it's hard to believe
the nine millimeter comin' out my pants gonna make you dance
See that's the city and it's making a motherfucker stress
Gotta watch your back like 24-7
unless you wanna be livin' the rest of your life
Up in a cemetery die nigga die you'll repeat until you're buried
That nine millimeter givin' no motherfuckin' respect
Up on your back with your last breathe
Welcome to your own death
[Chorus x6]
Terrors on nine milli chrome kill alone cause I trust no snitch
When I peel a dome and bail
Gone like hell right through the do
I'm rollin' a fat sack of red boogy boo, nigga ooh
Watch me bail nigga but you don't see me though
Cause I'm rollin' fat sacks in the back of my vehicle
But takin' a puff of the dank stuff
and enough that double O-A-E dooz me
I'm slowly loadin' up the oozy
Well now who's he
Well it's that dead motherfucker doe
Well whatcha know comin' through with that murder mo
And I heard you know now whose been bustin' up on the garden block
You either give up the information,
nigga I get shots, so nigga nah WHAT!
I guess you wanna dose of this milla
Twenty-four shots from that mommas baby killa
Nigga mack hustla, cap busta, infact I'm just a mack ten
Bustin' em at your chin before I crept nigga
Welcome to your own death
[Chorus x6]
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap and true is the game) [x2]
So niggas miss my sicc
Some niggas don't know me, niggas don't know my click
That O-loc-double-C-O-G rip gut canibal type of shit
Plus many more caps bust
Anymore sacks to roll up, we need that high back
So niggas done load them nins and pull them high jacks
And lie back in the cut and roll another fat one up
Tack one up for loc to the brain
Them niggas that really don't give a fuck
Around and get buck, shot it up and dump in a truck and left in a cut
So nigga now whatcha gon do with a mini mack ten ten at yo gut
Plus niggas nuts and guts is what I rips for
Creepin' up in a six four impala
Mobbin' a loots all up to make you vomit from the raw gut cause
Nah what I do is let my nine do the talkin'
Leavin' you walkin' to your funeral low
Diggin'? yo smoke from the mack 1-0
I had ya pussin' just in case
I got me a mack eleven for your face that's leavin' no trace
Caps leavin' a gate and puttin' holes in a niggas neck
So watch the reeper when I creep crept
Welcome to your own death
[Chorus x6]
When I hit the block with a nine
Them fools better be duckin'
My nigga duck got out the car and started buckin' at niggas runnin'
untraceable gage shells
Only worriers goin' to hell
And 5-0 they just can't swoop
See cause we mobbin' too well
My murder file done pile more than a nigga expected
See cause have of the city of Sac still ain't accepted
That I'm a pack and when I'm sweated I'ma put in work
Cause my O-T told me why Jesus got to kick up some dirt
And I'm tired of warnin' a motherfucker about a nigga like me
When it's hard to believe
the nine millimeter comin' out my pants gonna make you dance
See that's the city and it's making a motherfucker stress
Gotta watch your back like 24-7
unless you wanna be livin' the rest of your life
Up in a cemetery die nigga die you'll repeat until you're buried
That nine millimeter givin' no motherfuckin' respect
Up on your back with your last breathe
Welcome to your own death
[Chorus x6]
Inhale Wit Da Devil Buttz Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Devilish Moans]
[Deep Inhales]
[Lynch:] Hey who tha Fucc are you?
[Devil:] Aw shit, don't you know devils don't die so I'm bacc in this muthafucka you know?
[Lynch:] Nigga, nigga fucc you, but umm, when I shot you on tha last shoot...
it wasn't to kill you anyway, it was just to see if I was you. you know what I'm sayin?
[Inhales]
If I died when I shot you, that mean I was tha devil, you know?
Based on everybody thought I was dead, I thought I was tha devil but now,
since you hear hit this muthafuccin shit
[Devil Inhales]
[Lynch:] yea that's that cusche nigga
[Devil:] Damn!
[Lynch:] see what I'm sayin?
[Devil:] Yep..Shit!
[Inhale]
[Devil:] you know that muthafuckaz thought you was dead?
[Lynch:] don't trip don't trip
[Inhales]
[Lynch:] I'ma dead man walkin anyway.
[Devil:] I know I know, that's 'cause you aint got no life nigga,
I'm still hearin shit about you nigga.
First I hear you was dead, then I hear you a Baby killa,
then I hear you only eat nuthin but meat and 40's.
Nigga you ain't no Cannibal nigga
[Lynch:] nigga fuck you, you know what I'm sayin?
You give me somethin that ain't me, I feel disrespected you know what I'm sayin?
Fucc around and put a 9 in yo muthafuccin mouth nigga.
[Devil:] Oh oh you a hard muthafucka now you know I'm sayin. well ill tell you what.
Since you atheist and gotta call me manson 'cause you don't believe in tha devil
you know what I'm sayin, and ain't scared od dying and shit, lets play this little game.
You take your 9 and ill take my 9, and we'll cock that shit back you know what I'm sayin,
and we'll point it at each other you know what I'm sayin,
Hit tha joints then okay? We'll play a little game of Russion Roulette then you know?
[Lynch:] Fucc it fucc it
[Both:] Lets do this shit (then/you know)
[Both cock their guns]
[Both inhale their joints]
[3 gunshots are fired]
[Deep Inhales]
[Lynch:] Hey who tha Fucc are you?
[Devil:] Aw shit, don't you know devils don't die so I'm bacc in this muthafucka you know?
[Lynch:] Nigga, nigga fucc you, but umm, when I shot you on tha last shoot...
it wasn't to kill you anyway, it was just to see if I was you. you know what I'm sayin?
[Inhales]
If I died when I shot you, that mean I was tha devil, you know?
Based on everybody thought I was dead, I thought I was tha devil but now,
since you hear hit this muthafuccin shit
[Devil Inhales]
[Lynch:] yea that's that cusche nigga
[Devil:] Damn!
[Lynch:] see what I'm sayin?
[Devil:] Yep..Shit!
[Inhale]
[Devil:] you know that muthafuckaz thought you was dead?
[Lynch:] don't trip don't trip
[Inhales]
[Lynch:] I'ma dead man walkin anyway.
[Devil:] I know I know, that's 'cause you aint got no life nigga,
I'm still hearin shit about you nigga.
First I hear you was dead, then I hear you a Baby killa,
then I hear you only eat nuthin but meat and 40's.
Nigga you ain't no Cannibal nigga
[Lynch:] nigga fuck you, you know what I'm sayin?
You give me somethin that ain't me, I feel disrespected you know what I'm sayin?
Fucc around and put a 9 in yo muthafuccin mouth nigga.
[Devil:] Oh oh you a hard muthafucka now you know I'm sayin. well ill tell you what.
Since you atheist and gotta call me manson 'cause you don't believe in tha devil
you know what I'm sayin, and ain't scared od dying and shit, lets play this little game.
You take your 9 and ill take my 9, and we'll cock that shit back you know what I'm sayin,
and we'll point it at each other you know what I'm sayin,
Hit tha joints then okay? We'll play a little game of Russion Roulette then you know?
[Lynch:] Fucc it fucc it
[Both:] Lets do this shit (then/you know)
[Both cock their guns]
[Both inhale their joints]
[3 gunshots are fired]
24 Deep Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
Strikin' through the deuce wit the 40 in ma mouth
The nigga wit the rep of athiest-a-mistik doubt
rippin' the label off the 4-0...based on the fact
I got respect fo ma dead folks...prop fo ma nigga loccs
187 in the hood I can't say shit
one time thinking it was premeditate it
I can eat a view from the deuce 4 blocc
40 in ma mind thinkin I'm gonna get shot
In deuce 24 deep the nigga wit the siccness
A nigga wit a hella enimies always cool and they be siccs
Niggas from the hood ended up proven they was a snitch
Fucc it...created it x-rated now I'm tryin to get rich
Ain't that a bitch, that snitch...none-a-nay
Motherfuckers mad cause they can't make tapes
and I gotta get paid so I can buy ma 4-0
to live the athiest life I was brain-washed to know
Niggas run up everyday wantin to get sum
I told them who runs the motherfucker flow and then sum
win sum... lose sum like a nightmare
I got enough shit on ma mind I just can't care
I'm on the run...runnin from whos ever gun is aimin
I'm all up in the middle of shit aint even claimin
Tryin to survive in the hood is tough enough cause them niggas already thinkin
I'm claimin crete-ma..trippin on gettin snuffed by the view
The nigga wit the rep of athiest-a-mistik doubt
rippin' the label off the 4-0...based on the fact
I got respect fo ma dead folks...prop fo ma nigga loccs
187 in the hood I can't say shit
one time thinking it was premeditate it
I can eat a view from the deuce 4 blocc
40 in ma mind thinkin I'm gonna get shot
In deuce 24 deep the nigga wit the siccness
A nigga wit a hella enimies always cool and they be siccs
Niggas from the hood ended up proven they was a snitch
Fucc it...created it x-rated now I'm tryin to get rich
Ain't that a bitch, that snitch...none-a-nay
Motherfuckers mad cause they can't make tapes
and I gotta get paid so I can buy ma 4-0
to live the athiest life I was brain-washed to know
Niggas run up everyday wantin to get sum
I told them who runs the motherfucker flow and then sum
win sum... lose sum like a nightmare
I got enough shit on ma mind I just can't care
I'm on the run...runnin from whos ever gun is aimin
I'm all up in the middle of shit aint even claimin
Tryin to survive in the hood is tough enough cause them niggas already thinkin
I'm claimin crete-ma..trippin on gettin snuffed by the view
Had 2 Gat Ya Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[BLH:]
I'm a let it be known that I'm with the force so nigga you know it's on
Oil my chrome cause I got murder in my blood and in my chromosone
For the fact that I tek none pack a gun in my dang a lang
That nigga that nigga that gang bang no never that nigga that claim
Yeah I'm a nigga eating Jesus brains
I got the evil in my muthafuckin back and in my muthafuckin veins
Wearing my black to creep,
Momma told a muthafucka he'd be dead in a week
So nigga what? load me like a "tre five seven",
Pass the dank takin dead body's to the blood bank
And while I hook em up proper
I got them swallowing in my loaded heart stopper
POP! POP! the trigga fiend, the niggas spleen
Plus the barrel on my muthafuckin nine, lookin plus
That nigga that nigga that runs them mothafuckas back
I got you fiendin for a nigga like you fiend for crack
Cause it's like that (mo wiggita then a nigga get might packed?)
Cause in the 4 you know never know you better gat right back
So niggas know us brothas can't go out like that
Sellin my momma the crack, watch yo back cause(You know I had to gat ya)
[Chorus: x4]
187 on a nigga nigga nigga
You know I had 2 Gat Ya
[BLH:]
Yeah, picture your death,
That nigga that siccness
Figure to sick this, foo
That nigga that rips
(? look at that nigga) that siccness drops
And as my trigga goes Pop! Pop! Pop!
That niggas be ducking from the buck shot
See, fuck it when the gun drops, you know it's in a hoes cock
So there it goes, not the average nigga
The baby killa, (? a rabies)
Dealin that nigga maybe killin that nigga that smooth way
That mothafuckas ain't shit to me
White nigga, black trigga cracks every mothafuckas back
Late in a day, fools used to get they squabs on
The blood gang deuce nine creep mobb zone
Runnin a mothafucka like a pittbull, loadin up that clip tool
But stealin on muthafuckas like a clepto
Let no, other muthafuckas raise yo hood
Half the mothafuckas smokin niggas like wood
Got locked up with they cock up, some other niggas asshole
But atleast my niggas had enough heart to blast though
Now the duece ain't deep like 86
I'm solo, might as well see me on a crucifix
The duece for age, baby killin athiest
For the funk right back, cause (You know I had to gat ya)
[Chorus]
[BLH:]
Same ol fool, that nigga deep load, what up
Ain't no doubt who runs the muthafucka
Cause every cut I drop is like a muthafuckin main (course?)
[?] that's why I make so many corpse
Cause when they hear that nigga that nigga that siccness drop
My nine millimeter goes Pop!
My sign going to creep them,
Nightmare creeper millimeter meter
Lock up, main corpse, spirit your brain
Got niggaz killin niggaz, just because I'm rappin insane
Something like a manson mind, my nigga triple six
(I got em doing a devil dance of mine)
Leavin em only one chance to die and niggaz wanna used a glock
Niggaz wanna go to heaven but don't want to get shot down
Yeah, with my 38 snotnose
I got niggaz crawlin to me tryin to grab me for the hella hoes
Lettin loose like Antonio Montana
With a oozie and I'm kickin em with a 12 guage nots and em
Ah, psycho like micro mind (sprice?) six
Brotha lynch, rippin his arms off up the crucifix
And when I grab my 9 millimeter gun, point it to your back
Cause I don't know how to act so (You know I had 2 Gat Ya)
[Chorus x2]
(You Know I had 2 Gat Ya)
I'm a let it be known that I'm with the force so nigga you know it's on
Oil my chrome cause I got murder in my blood and in my chromosone
For the fact that I tek none pack a gun in my dang a lang
That nigga that nigga that gang bang no never that nigga that claim
Yeah I'm a nigga eating Jesus brains
I got the evil in my muthafuckin back and in my muthafuckin veins
Wearing my black to creep,
Momma told a muthafucka he'd be dead in a week
So nigga what? load me like a "tre five seven",
Pass the dank takin dead body's to the blood bank
And while I hook em up proper
I got them swallowing in my loaded heart stopper
POP! POP! the trigga fiend, the niggas spleen
Plus the barrel on my muthafuckin nine, lookin plus
That nigga that nigga that runs them mothafuckas back
I got you fiendin for a nigga like you fiend for crack
Cause it's like that (mo wiggita then a nigga get might packed?)
Cause in the 4 you know never know you better gat right back
So niggas know us brothas can't go out like that
Sellin my momma the crack, watch yo back cause(You know I had to gat ya)
[Chorus: x4]
187 on a nigga nigga nigga
You know I had 2 Gat Ya
[BLH:]
Yeah, picture your death,
That nigga that siccness
Figure to sick this, foo
That nigga that rips
(? look at that nigga) that siccness drops
And as my trigga goes Pop! Pop! Pop!
That niggas be ducking from the buck shot
See, fuck it when the gun drops, you know it's in a hoes cock
So there it goes, not the average nigga
The baby killa, (? a rabies)
Dealin that nigga maybe killin that nigga that smooth way
That mothafuckas ain't shit to me
White nigga, black trigga cracks every mothafuckas back
Late in a day, fools used to get they squabs on
The blood gang deuce nine creep mobb zone
Runnin a mothafucka like a pittbull, loadin up that clip tool
But stealin on muthafuckas like a clepto
Let no, other muthafuckas raise yo hood
Half the mothafuckas smokin niggas like wood
Got locked up with they cock up, some other niggas asshole
But atleast my niggas had enough heart to blast though
Now the duece ain't deep like 86
I'm solo, might as well see me on a crucifix
The duece for age, baby killin athiest
For the funk right back, cause (You know I had to gat ya)
[Chorus]
[BLH:]
Same ol fool, that nigga deep load, what up
Ain't no doubt who runs the muthafucka
Cause every cut I drop is like a muthafuckin main (course?)
[?] that's why I make so many corpse
Cause when they hear that nigga that nigga that siccness drop
My nine millimeter goes Pop!
My sign going to creep them,
Nightmare creeper millimeter meter
Lock up, main corpse, spirit your brain
Got niggaz killin niggaz, just because I'm rappin insane
Something like a manson mind, my nigga triple six
(I got em doing a devil dance of mine)
Leavin em only one chance to die and niggaz wanna used a glock
Niggaz wanna go to heaven but don't want to get shot down
Yeah, with my 38 snotnose
I got niggaz crawlin to me tryin to grab me for the hella hoes
Lettin loose like Antonio Montana
With a oozie and I'm kickin em with a 12 guage nots and em
Ah, psycho like micro mind (sprice?) six
Brotha lynch, rippin his arms off up the crucifix
And when I grab my 9 millimeter gun, point it to your back
Cause I don't know how to act so (You know I had 2 Gat Ya)
[Chorus x2]
(You Know I had 2 Gat Ya)
Lose A Hoe, Gain A Hoe Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah and ya don't stop the Brotha Lynch in the house ya don't stop
yeah and ya don't stop hoes keep giving up that cock
cuz every nigga got a hoe
oh and every hoe is a bitch
so I let em know from the get
that they fucking with a skitso
I let em know I don't play that shit
fucking with the Brotha Lynch and you'll be dealing with a pistol
and for your man I got a nine in my nick so
punk nigga what you trip fo
sweating me about some slut
I didnt make that dumb bitch swallow my nut
the running em up tone down slut giving up hella butt
and all ya gotta do is get the bitch drunk as a motherfuck
and the pussy is yours for the taken
and nigga you sprung on that what you thanking
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in the gardens now ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
ain't that a bitch
about a puerto rican I was with last weekend
fucking with dank and I had the bitch tweaking
rushing the guts and I had the bitch leaking I mean fucking it up
I had the voice level peaking small coulda sprung the hoe
but what I did is get her sprung off dick
but now ya know she try to get it everywhere she go
fucking every nigga with a cash flow
but didnt get the cash though
now the bitch stuck on dumb
cuz she got 2 pimps and 1 pussy to work from
and now a niggas upset
yo he didnt know his young hoe was doing work for a bet
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in the creek now ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the pimp it ain't that nigga thats hoeing
fucking got stuck on sprung with the bitch ya you know em
talking pimp shit
but all that talking ain't meant shit
you got a gang of hoes giving up the cash flow
claiming you the best nigga that can pimp a hoe
well if thats so don't you getting mad at me
cuz your hoe wanna give me up the pussy for free
cuz I'm your homie you said we can both do her
and your scheming on one of my hoes
but never knew I get paid regardless
make that switch I'll take yours you take mine go head take that bitch
cuz shes a hoe and its a hoe thang
matter fact take both but don't be mad cuz Ima still be getting the cash flow
cuz every hoe is like money to me
you see I check em cash em and charge em a fee
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in Medaview I know ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the hustla bust a cap
and ya must adapt to the pimp game so nigga peep game
I keep hoes on weight then had a motherfuckas buying me daytons
and meanwhile I still pimp the hoes my invincy knows and then tincy grows
to pimp hoes like pops does
I call him miny mack pimpsta with a living plus many women
just any and then some I keep em going
I keep em going make doeing I keep em hoeing and ya knowing
your bitch ain't kicking in
but steadly getting away with your ends
you gotta drop her cop her up against the water
straight smack her back up kick her in the gut
and then sock a blood clot and that bitch is ass
but don't bruise her cuz a tone down hoe don't make no cash
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in Lindon Hill I know ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the sin it ain't that nigga thats tripping
tripping off a devil but your devils still pimping
ploting planing scheming scaning
said the dicks proper but she fronting on my man and hes stressing
lesson 1 is never let the yo devil get ya sprung to point you cant let go
stolen from your homies nigga what you think
you better keep her from the homies cuz the homies on the gank move
so what you think I think you sprung
17 nigga much too young
you better lose that hoe and nigga gain a hoe
it'll be cold unless you wanna gain control
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in the heights now ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the nigga that nigga that nigga that thought he was slick
got married fucked up now his wifes on my dick
I wont trip cuz if I trip I might cause trip
a six nigga that who will come and throw a 40 down my lip
now I don't give a fuck about shit no mo
sure don't give a fuck about a bitch ass hoe
you know niggas in general dipping in the mineral
it takes a nigga to get drunk and hurt then ya know
then ya hoe try to make you fall for the O
but I be catching that shit bitch I ain't no joke
I caught ya sliping sliding
acting like ya riding my shit
but like I said it ain't nothing but a dick peep game
thought it was a music thang
ain't that a bitch being a bitch being a bitch insane
cuz eeing a bitch will hide shit keep cover
you cant front while ya fucking my brother bitch
just another motherfucker on the pow like me
cuz it was if the okie doke falling full of pussy
see ya name ain't shit and your game ain't shit
the fact you came ain't shit you just a lame ass bitch
be a hoe you why cant you know
if I lose your hoe Ima gain another hoe
so go on with all that lying shit
thats cool just keep supplying shit
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas on Mack Road I know ya know
if ya lose a hoe gain a hoe
19 motherfuking 96 let a bitch be a hoe be a slut fucking all my crew
but I'm paid than a motherfucker then another sucka nigga
held a motherfucking trigger to my dome and said thats my girlfriend
I said your girlfriend ain't nothing but a bitch to me
and while ya loving the fool you getting played
you need to quit that love shit and get paid
I could see if the bitch was faithfull
but ain't nobody faithfull you need to get a bitch and be thankful
cuz niggas in general sprung off the mineral
you need a dip a little hard then ya know
and thats the pimp daddy Lynch on the microphone
and if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
and I'm out
yeah a little Hitman's in the house
my nigga Sisko's in the house
my nigga X motherfucking Raided's in the house
Kilo and Kilo G's in the house
and Kilo's homies in the house
Sisko's in the motherfucking house
and Mo Green he in this motherfucking house
and G-Man and Short E and Waynee Wayne and R.J.
and Triple Six is in the motherfucking house
but first of all Brotha Lynch is in the house
and I'm gonna do it like that
in this pyshical fitness on the hitlist
don't miss going off head doing all that crazy shit
Im out 93 you know I'm gonna do it like that
Im gonna kick that 24 deep shit for my homie X
you know what I'm saying I'm 95
yeah and ya don't stop the Brotha Lynch in the house ya don't stop
yeah and ya don't stop hoes keep giving up that cock
cuz every nigga got a hoe
oh and every hoe is a bitch
so I let em know from the get
that they fucking with a skitso
I let em know I don't play that shit
fucking with the Brotha Lynch and you'll be dealing with a pistol
and for your man I got a nine in my nick so
punk nigga what you trip fo
sweating me about some slut
I didnt make that dumb bitch swallow my nut
the running em up tone down slut giving up hella butt
and all ya gotta do is get the bitch drunk as a motherfuck
and the pussy is yours for the taken
and nigga you sprung on that what you thanking
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in the gardens now ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
ain't that a bitch
about a puerto rican I was with last weekend
fucking with dank and I had the bitch tweaking
rushing the guts and I had the bitch leaking I mean fucking it up
I had the voice level peaking small coulda sprung the hoe
but what I did is get her sprung off dick
but now ya know she try to get it everywhere she go
fucking every nigga with a cash flow
but didnt get the cash though
now the bitch stuck on dumb
cuz she got 2 pimps and 1 pussy to work from
and now a niggas upset
yo he didnt know his young hoe was doing work for a bet
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in the creek now ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the pimp it ain't that nigga thats hoeing
fucking got stuck on sprung with the bitch ya you know em
talking pimp shit
but all that talking ain't meant shit
you got a gang of hoes giving up the cash flow
claiming you the best nigga that can pimp a hoe
well if thats so don't you getting mad at me
cuz your hoe wanna give me up the pussy for free
cuz I'm your homie you said we can both do her
and your scheming on one of my hoes
but never knew I get paid regardless
make that switch I'll take yours you take mine go head take that bitch
cuz shes a hoe and its a hoe thang
matter fact take both but don't be mad cuz Ima still be getting the cash flow
cuz every hoe is like money to me
you see I check em cash em and charge em a fee
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in Medaview I know ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the hustla bust a cap
and ya must adapt to the pimp game so nigga peep game
I keep hoes on weight then had a motherfuckas buying me daytons
and meanwhile I still pimp the hoes my invincy knows and then tincy grows
to pimp hoes like pops does
I call him miny mack pimpsta with a living plus many women
just any and then some I keep em going
I keep em going make doeing I keep em hoeing and ya knowing
your bitch ain't kicking in
but steadly getting away with your ends
you gotta drop her cop her up against the water
straight smack her back up kick her in the gut
and then sock a blood clot and that bitch is ass
but don't bruise her cuz a tone down hoe don't make no cash
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in Lindon Hill I know ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the sin it ain't that nigga thats tripping
tripping off a devil but your devils still pimping
ploting planing scheming scaning
said the dicks proper but she fronting on my man and hes stressing
lesson 1 is never let the yo devil get ya sprung to point you cant let go
stolen from your homies nigga what you think
you better keep her from the homies cuz the homies on the gank move
so what you think I think you sprung
17 nigga much too young
you better lose that hoe and nigga gain a hoe
it'll be cold unless you wanna gain control
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas in the heights now ya know
if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
whos the nigga that nigga that nigga that thought he was slick
got married fucked up now his wifes on my dick
I wont trip cuz if I trip I might cause trip
a six nigga that who will come and throw a 40 down my lip
now I don't give a fuck about shit no mo
sure don't give a fuck about a bitch ass hoe
you know niggas in general dipping in the mineral
it takes a nigga to get drunk and hurt then ya know
then ya hoe try to make you fall for the O
but I be catching that shit bitch I ain't no joke
I caught ya sliping sliding
acting like ya riding my shit
but like I said it ain't nothing but a dick peep game
thought it was a music thang
ain't that a bitch being a bitch being a bitch insane
cuz eeing a bitch will hide shit keep cover
you cant front while ya fucking my brother bitch
just another motherfucker on the pow like me
cuz it was if the okie doke falling full of pussy
see ya name ain't shit and your game ain't shit
the fact you came ain't shit you just a lame ass bitch
be a hoe you why cant you know
if I lose your hoe Ima gain another hoe
so go on with all that lying shit
thats cool just keep supplying shit
[chorus]
niggas in general sprung off the mineral
I rather trip off a homie than a hoe
and to my niggas on Mack Road I know ya know
if ya lose a hoe gain a hoe
19 motherfuking 96 let a bitch be a hoe be a slut fucking all my crew
but I'm paid than a motherfucker then another sucka nigga
held a motherfucking trigger to my dome and said thats my girlfriend
I said your girlfriend ain't nothing but a bitch to me
and while ya loving the fool you getting played
you need to quit that love shit and get paid
I could see if the bitch was faithfull
but ain't nobody faithfull you need to get a bitch and be thankful
cuz niggas in general sprung off the mineral
you need a dip a little hard then ya know
and thats the pimp daddy Lynch on the microphone
and if you lose a hoe gain a hoe
and I'm out
yeah a little Hitman's in the house
my nigga Sisko's in the house
my nigga X motherfucking Raided's in the house
Kilo and Kilo G's in the house
and Kilo's homies in the house
Sisko's in the motherfucking house
and Mo Green he in this motherfucking house
and G-Man and Short E and Waynee Wayne and R.J.
and Triple Six is in the motherfucking house
but first of all Brotha Lynch is in the house
and I'm gonna do it like that
in this pyshical fitness on the hitlist
don't miss going off head doing all that crazy shit
Im out 93 you know I'm gonna do it like that
Im gonna kick that 24 deep shit for my homie X
you know what I'm saying I'm 95
Back Fade Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Devil]
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha yeah
ya'll interested to know
check that shit Lynch
its the devil
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah the cap busting neva stops
I got my clips and my glocks a bunch of motherfuckas give me props
funny style fools dealt with thats why I neva Lynch Hung with the crews low
neva caught slipping I knew I had to have mine (yeah)
so I hooked up with my folks who hooked a nigga with a nine
now I got my own back fade and once ya start shooting at foos
you betta have your own grave made
foo named Blackie spitting at everybody bout
how he was hard and was knocking niggas out
I see some envyist of the Lynch Hung
everytime I talk to em foos say he just bought a new gun
and I can feel em from a mile away
fronting like he all that shit but like my nigga say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own back fade nigga
[Chorus]
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
nigga I thought you knew you couldnt fade this
all them props you got ain't but fake shit
trying to run up on a oozie with a nine clip
and find your brain cooking in a barbecue pit (yeah)
cuz I don't play that shit low and I ain't soft
bout your rumors Gimmy got his mouth shot off
then his head cut off just for fucking up
with a nigga that got a room full of baby gut
when I was peeping it I was tripping off of what I seen
dumb nigga you fronting on the wrong team
I coulda had you with a click getting hella props
now you running around like a monkey with his head cut off
fucking with me
no checking my nine pops
leaving a nigga with a mouth full of gun shots
by a lunatic niggas score some old clothes
Im like some paid to filling bodies full of bullet holes
and I can feel em from a mile away
fronting like they all that shit but like my nigga say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own back fade nigga
[Chorus]
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
(Brotha Lynch Hung)
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
hey I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung)
you know I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
hey I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah you know what I'm saying
Im the so called Devil that Brotha Lynch was talking bout you know
they cant nobody fade this
this nigga packs his own people you know what I'm saying
but with this cannibalistic theory you know what I'm saying
so umm Lynch help me with this shit kick that old shit
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
most of my niggas come and go like a foos life
a couple of 40's and a joint later nut not
thats why I'm kicking with the hardest motherfucker living
my nigga nine eating humans like Thanksgiving
and it be eating em by the fo's at least
marinating niggas skin like a thick slab of roast beef
then I'm cooking em while I'm fiending for fee
drinking a 40 eat some human meat and sit and watch my teeth bleed
ain't a motherfucker out trying to feel me
about a million motherfuckas wanna kill me
thats why ninna got 16 partners
smoking a nigga from my human meat pot luck
click popo buckshots to a niggas chest
nigga rips in my mouth now whos next
I got the menu of a motherfucking cannibal
as I continue I'm a human eating niggaro
eating niggas with my nine so hey
you fronting like your all that shit but like my niggas say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own back fade nigga
[Chorus]
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
coming straight from the grave with the rip gut
cannibal Atheist couldnt give a motherfuck
heard alot of motherfuckas wanna stop this
I keep em paralyzed young manotonis
though I pop shit something like a blood vessel
drink blood like a vamp then become amp
that means I take all the pussy and you get the fist
grab a leg like a wishbone and make a wish
pop yeah there it goes first love lead
to a bed full of pussy bleeding bloodshed
now I'm psyched cuz I know a nigga want some
he better pack a gun or know how to run
and I ain't met too many niggas that could eat meat
like a nigga with a mouth full of crooked teeth
and I'm a motherfucker that thrive on homosapien beef
them niggas don't know I'm seriously crazy
and I can feel em from a mile away
fronting like they all that shit but like my nigga say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own backfade nigga
[Devil]
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha yeah
ya'll interested to know
check that shit Lynch
its the devil
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah the cap busting neva stops
I got my clips and my glocks a bunch of motherfuckas give me props
funny style fools dealt with thats why I neva Lynch Hung with the crews low
neva caught slipping I knew I had to have mine (yeah)
so I hooked up with my folks who hooked a nigga with a nine
now I got my own back fade and once ya start shooting at foos
you betta have your own grave made
foo named Blackie spitting at everybody bout
how he was hard and was knocking niggas out
I see some envyist of the Lynch Hung
everytime I talk to em foos say he just bought a new gun
and I can feel em from a mile away
fronting like he all that shit but like my nigga say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own back fade nigga
[Chorus]
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
nigga I thought you knew you couldnt fade this
all them props you got ain't but fake shit
trying to run up on a oozie with a nine clip
and find your brain cooking in a barbecue pit (yeah)
cuz I don't play that shit low and I ain't soft
bout your rumors Gimmy got his mouth shot off
then his head cut off just for fucking up
with a nigga that got a room full of baby gut
when I was peeping it I was tripping off of what I seen
dumb nigga you fronting on the wrong team
I coulda had you with a click getting hella props
now you running around like a monkey with his head cut off
fucking with me
no checking my nine pops
leaving a nigga with a mouth full of gun shots
by a lunatic niggas score some old clothes
Im like some paid to filling bodies full of bullet holes
and I can feel em from a mile away
fronting like they all that shit but like my nigga say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own back fade nigga
[Chorus]
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
(Brotha Lynch Hung)
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
hey I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung)
you know I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
hey I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah you know what I'm saying
Im the so called Devil that Brotha Lynch was talking bout you know
they cant nobody fade this
this nigga packs his own people you know what I'm saying
but with this cannibalistic theory you know what I'm saying
so umm Lynch help me with this shit kick that old shit
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
most of my niggas come and go like a foos life
a couple of 40's and a joint later nut not
thats why I'm kicking with the hardest motherfucker living
my nigga nine eating humans like Thanksgiving
and it be eating em by the fo's at least
marinating niggas skin like a thick slab of roast beef
then I'm cooking em while I'm fiending for fee
drinking a 40 eat some human meat and sit and watch my teeth bleed
ain't a motherfucker out trying to feel me
about a million motherfuckas wanna kill me
thats why ninna got 16 partners
smoking a nigga from my human meat pot luck
click popo buckshots to a niggas chest
nigga rips in my mouth now whos next
I got the menu of a motherfucking cannibal
as I continue I'm a human eating niggaro
eating niggas with my nine so hey
you fronting like your all that shit but like my niggas say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own back fade nigga
[Chorus]
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Devil]
yeah depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
yeah I got my own back fade
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
coming straight from the grave with the rip gut
cannibal Atheist couldnt give a motherfuck
heard alot of motherfuckas wanna stop this
I keep em paralyzed young manotonis
though I pop shit something like a blood vessel
drink blood like a vamp then become amp
that means I take all the pussy and you get the fist
grab a leg like a wishbone and make a wish
pop yeah there it goes first love lead
to a bed full of pussy bleeding bloodshed
now I'm psyched cuz I know a nigga want some
he better pack a gun or know how to run
and I ain't met too many niggas that could eat meat
like a nigga with a mouth full of crooked teeth
and I'm a motherfucker that thrive on homosapien beef
them niggas don't know I'm seriously crazy
and I can feel em from a mile away
fronting like they all that shit but like my nigga say
depending on a nigga gets a nine in my back
so hey I got my own backfade nigga
[Devil]
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Jackin' 4 Joints Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Shawna Coyle)
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
roll me a motherfucking joint
check my gat nigga get my point cuz I jack
roll on foos like vice and my nine milla meter ain't nathan nice
I start jacking for blunts a black jacket and ones I get dank
Im sending niggas blood to the blood bank you better hook me up proper
or die from my loaded heart stopper like nut smoking up blunt for blunt
and one time you can take me if you check me if you want cuz soon as I get my dank
you know it ain't 10 minutes later for I'm planning my next gank and even if your down with my crew
[conversation]
(yo shut up man I don't understand this man, yo you get this motherfucka, I jack him too)
so hook it up Mo Green
you know its that gat pressing up against your motherfucking spleen
gimmie all that green bud or you'll be kicking up dust off the motherfucking rug
straight jacket off to the next nigga
R.J. you better have a nate trigger
I don't play nigga so give it up shit
I got the same old nine that I blasted old Mo Green with foo
break yourself smooth
gimmie all that mexican sex and don't stress
I got this shit handled
put about 10 of them sacks on a motherfucking panel
and I'm out the back door
Triple Six next victim cuz foo I need a 4 O
Im might be kinda difficult
but Ima need me a 12 gage and a trench coat lil ride the door
Triple Six in the room with some vannah on armed in the coat
telling everybody don't move I'm fiending
hit the ice box for the Old English didnt have to use my gun
now I'm off to Green Haven I pop 8 3 1 nigga jackpot ounce to the bounce snatch 2 ounces then I bounce
and whatcha cant faking on the way out I saw the keys to the jeep I might as well take it
nigga kept breaking next nigga M.C. Hobbs
foo start tripping so I put out the lights [2 gunshots]
took about 6 40's
now I'm back to the motherfucking duece while they look for me
Im in the creek getting butted and drunk
a nigga hiting homeless with the dank
and I could feel them niggas that I just ganked
coming up so I grab the gat nigga
to my head shawnte' on the trigger
better do it before I send ya home
pop pop pop pop 4 to the dome
[Shawna Coyle]
shit I really shot that motherfucka
roll me a motherfucking joint
check my gat nigga get my point cuz I jack
roll on foos like vice and my nine milla meter ain't nathan nice
I start jacking for blunts a black jacket and ones I get dank
Im sending niggas blood to the blood bank you better hook me up proper
or die from my loaded heart stopper like nut smoking up blunt for blunt
and one time you can take me if you check me if you want cuz soon as I get my dank
you know it ain't 10 minutes later for I'm planning my next gank and even if your down with my crew
[conversation]
(yo shut up man I don't understand this man, yo you get this motherfucka, I jack him too)
so hook it up Mo Green
you know its that gat pressing up against your motherfucking spleen
gimmie all that green bud or you'll be kicking up dust off the motherfucking rug
straight jacket off to the next nigga
R.J. you better have a nate trigger
I don't play nigga so give it up shit
I got the same old nine that I blasted old Mo Green with foo
break yourself smooth
gimmie all that mexican sex and don't stress
I got this shit handled
put about 10 of them sacks on a motherfucking panel
and I'm out the back door
Triple Six next victim cuz foo I need a 4 O
Im might be kinda difficult
but Ima need me a 12 gage and a trench coat lil ride the door
Triple Six in the room with some vannah on armed in the coat
telling everybody don't move I'm fiending
hit the ice box for the Old English didnt have to use my gun
now I'm off to Green Haven I pop 8 3 1 nigga jackpot ounce to the bounce snatch 2 ounces then I bounce
and whatcha cant faking on the way out I saw the keys to the jeep I might as well take it
nigga kept breaking next nigga M.C. Hobbs
foo start tripping so I put out the lights [2 gunshots]
took about 6 40's
now I'm back to the motherfucking duece while they look for me
Im in the creek getting butted and drunk
a nigga hiting homeless with the dank
and I could feel them niggas that I just ganked
coming up so I grab the gat nigga
to my head shawnte' on the trigger
better do it before I send ya home
pop pop pop pop 4 to the dome
[Shawna Coyle]
shit I really shot that motherfucka
Walkin' 2 My Funeral Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Mia Bruce, T.M. Shades)
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
creeping in the dark with a nine and a four O
5 O 12 O clock so I creep slow duece fo
homies know I just cant claim so I stay neutral
pack me some ammo and Im (?) mothafucking fo fo
cant pack a piece too often
end up having another suckas guts hanging off
and a 187 R.A.P. A.S.A.P.
reeping off the fits doing time in the penitentary
and as I creep I peep mista locsta with the gun outta his holsta
thinking he supposed to point it at me
but now everybody loves a cop killa
so what I did is grabe my nine but before I put the clip in
all I heard is pop pop pop what Im tripping
my body's licking blood I cant call it
one time murdering a young alcoholic
Im on the ground with a 40 spilled on my chest
bullet holes and it supposed to work bullet proof vest
caught slipping my niggaro's
you can burn that hearse cuz Ima walk to my funeral
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel
can you feel it
you know what you got to do
can you feel
why dont you take
you know what you got to do
can you feel
why dont you take
can you feel
[T.M. Shades]
I cant believe that I got shot I thought I ducked
I was just rolling my dice pressing my luck
kicking it with them fellas drinking 40's on the block
talking about what my dice will do when they drop
then all of the sudden dam I think saw a gun
after I heard the bam that made everybody run
Im trying to run but I aint cuz Im falling
my body's getting numb
I hear my mother calling
my heart stops but it dont feel like Im dead
and now Im seeing black puzzled and surprised
my worst start nightmare was now realitized
and I didnt even get me a chance to say good bye to my mommy
ambulance covering my body
put me in the truck closed the door stuck a tag on my toe
and put me in a drawer case closed
another inocent victim victimized
in the wrong place at the wrong time
my story was wrote the book read now I might be laying here dead
but Ima walk to my funeral
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel
I want to know why dont you just listen to me
why dont you listen to me
can you feel
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
10 O clock at the set Lynch crept
some nigga rolled up in a mob wanted a cigarette
nuttining now Im smoking on some indo
and on that note he stuck a gage out the window
break yourself for that dank and your cash
foo try to take my grip and then mash
Im like what, heh
Im not going out foo I bust out my ol school and swing my things real cool so what up
Im not tripping off your gage what up
aint even packing you the brotha with the gage at my gut
so bust he start loading me full of them shells
there wasnt no way I was dropping Im bloody as hell
6 holes in my body and Im trying to walk
grave yard straight called me Im living off a nerve shock
and on my tombstone 1996
and I got but Im gonna strike to my funeral
yeah in the mothafucking house my nigga Shades you know
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel me
thanks for acompaning me ont this mothafucka ya know
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel me
we gonna do some damage ya know in the 96 ya know
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel
can you feel me
can you feel me
creeping in the dark with a nine and a four O
5 O 12 O clock so I creep slow duece fo
homies know I just cant claim so I stay neutral
pack me some ammo and Im (?) mothafucking fo fo
cant pack a piece too often
end up having another suckas guts hanging off
and a 187 R.A.P. A.S.A.P.
reeping off the fits doing time in the penitentary
and as I creep I peep mista locsta with the gun outta his holsta
thinking he supposed to point it at me
but now everybody loves a cop killa
so what I did is grabe my nine but before I put the clip in
all I heard is pop pop pop what Im tripping
my body's licking blood I cant call it
one time murdering a young alcoholic
Im on the ground with a 40 spilled on my chest
bullet holes and it supposed to work bullet proof vest
caught slipping my niggaro's
you can burn that hearse cuz Ima walk to my funeral
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel
can you feel it
you know what you got to do
can you feel
why dont you take
you know what you got to do
can you feel
why dont you take
can you feel
[T.M. Shades]
I cant believe that I got shot I thought I ducked
I was just rolling my dice pressing my luck
kicking it with them fellas drinking 40's on the block
talking about what my dice will do when they drop
then all of the sudden dam I think saw a gun
after I heard the bam that made everybody run
Im trying to run but I aint cuz Im falling
my body's getting numb
I hear my mother calling
my heart stops but it dont feel like Im dead
and now Im seeing black puzzled and surprised
my worst start nightmare was now realitized
and I didnt even get me a chance to say good bye to my mommy
ambulance covering my body
put me in the truck closed the door stuck a tag on my toe
and put me in a drawer case closed
another inocent victim victimized
in the wrong place at the wrong time
my story was wrote the book read now I might be laying here dead
but Ima walk to my funeral
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel
I want to know why dont you just listen to me
why dont you listen to me
can you feel
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
10 O clock at the set Lynch crept
some nigga rolled up in a mob wanted a cigarette
nuttining now Im smoking on some indo
and on that note he stuck a gage out the window
break yourself for that dank and your cash
foo try to take my grip and then mash
Im like what, heh
Im not going out foo I bust out my ol school and swing my things real cool so what up
Im not tripping off your gage what up
aint even packing you the brotha with the gage at my gut
so bust he start loading me full of them shells
there wasnt no way I was dropping Im bloody as hell
6 holes in my body and Im trying to walk
grave yard straight called me Im living off a nerve shock
and on my tombstone 1996
and I got but Im gonna strike to my funeral
yeah in the mothafucking house my nigga Shades you know
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel me
thanks for acompaning me ont this mothafucka ya know
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel me
we gonna do some damage ya know in the 96 ya know
[Mia Bruce]
can you feel
can you feel me
can you feel me
G-Status Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
My peoples... My peoples
We must maintain G- Status
[Singing]
Thinking about living with out you
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
Based on technicalities, Ill nature and our future. Fuck
Work with the mic, work with the mic
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I put the pedal to the metal in that niggas rag top
after I left him in his back seat, chockin and hopin that his life won't end tonight
Had to take him for his fifty, cause it was so tight
Hit the corner in it, In a minute
I'm bout to decorate somebody mortuary wit bone dust
Fuck niggas I don't trust they venemous
I bend a muskrat nigga like you in half
Have you takin short breaths inside a death blood bath
Pullin niggas apart like bammer weed, takin em for their 3-fifty
Hit the corner of Watt and Whitney, that's where that green shit be
Fifty sack and i'm out with a bitch that I don't know
About to hit the momo back to lose a ho gain a ho
So who's to know bruise a ho up like me or not
Whether i'm livin out my momma house or in the back of my whatchamacallit
Doin thangs us niggas do
Get me another one of them faulty bitches pervin off the ole 8 brew
Then what you do, I smile in they face
Then leave they muthafuckin body in a casketcase
I'm a basketcase, everyday all day to the day I die
I'mma kill'em all up fill'em all up lick'em, wheel'em, deal'em
Dig'em a ditch then stick the bitch
[Singing]
Thinking about living without you
[Black Caesar Talking]
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off. Got a nigga on
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
My nigga... I'm off this muthafuckin O'E bottle on the throttle
cause these little niggas is catchin up grabbin the tec and buck
Stab in the neck and struck body in the back of the truck
And strap the Midevil tape to the dead body, Maserati, John Gotti
Made nigga, Put you in duct tape and leave you sinkin in the river
Take my kindness for weakness if you want to
I lost my baby Nevin, can't tell you what a nigga do
[Singing chorus]
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I got voices in my muthafuckin head
Choice to leave muthafuckas dead, puddle of red, sat on the bed
Put my muthafuckin strap down, put my hands on my face
Gotta beat this muthafuckin case
[Singing chorus]
[Black Caesar talking x6]
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off. Got a nigga on
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off
My peoples... My peoples
We must maintain G- Status
[Singing]
Thinking about living with out you
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
Based on technicalities, Ill nature and our future. Fuck
Work with the mic, work with the mic
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I put the pedal to the metal in that niggas rag top
after I left him in his back seat, chockin and hopin that his life won't end tonight
Had to take him for his fifty, cause it was so tight
Hit the corner in it, In a minute
I'm bout to decorate somebody mortuary wit bone dust
Fuck niggas I don't trust they venemous
I bend a muskrat nigga like you in half
Have you takin short breaths inside a death blood bath
Pullin niggas apart like bammer weed, takin em for their 3-fifty
Hit the corner of Watt and Whitney, that's where that green shit be
Fifty sack and i'm out with a bitch that I don't know
About to hit the momo back to lose a ho gain a ho
So who's to know bruise a ho up like me or not
Whether i'm livin out my momma house or in the back of my whatchamacallit
Doin thangs us niggas do
Get me another one of them faulty bitches pervin off the ole 8 brew
Then what you do, I smile in they face
Then leave they muthafuckin body in a casketcase
I'm a basketcase, everyday all day to the day I die
I'mma kill'em all up fill'em all up lick'em, wheel'em, deal'em
Dig'em a ditch then stick the bitch
[Singing]
Thinking about living without you
[Black Caesar Talking]
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off. Got a nigga on
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
My nigga... I'm off this muthafuckin O'E bottle on the throttle
cause these little niggas is catchin up grabbin the tec and buck
Stab in the neck and struck body in the back of the truck
And strap the Midevil tape to the dead body, Maserati, John Gotti
Made nigga, Put you in duct tape and leave you sinkin in the river
Take my kindness for weakness if you want to
I lost my baby Nevin, can't tell you what a nigga do
[Singing chorus]
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I got voices in my muthafuckin head
Choice to leave muthafuckas dead, puddle of red, sat on the bed
Put my muthafuckin strap down, put my hands on my face
Gotta beat this muthafuckin case
[Singing chorus]
[Black Caesar talking x6]
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off. Got a nigga on
Blackout blackout when the lights off pound the clubs
just like cars pound them cars, feel like i'm lost...
blackout blackout when the lights off
Good Night Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Verse 1:]
I mix it with a bit of bakin soda,
In this crack sack in the back pack before I make em older,
I put em in the game, nigga imma franchise player,
Put it in his brain, nigga, than a zen dialator,
Roll in the quiet, I pull heavy metal when you can fry quick,
Like sizzline, all I wanna know, is is he clean,
If its not, it's right off the levy, smash off in a Chevy,
If it's hot, smoke up the whole area like Richard Petty
In his brains and his guts in his backseat, lookin like spaghetti in the pot,
Ready or not, I stay steady with the shot
From long distance for instance break out like Eddie Rock
Before I'm leavin em leavin you bleedin on yo block
[Chorus:]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go,
And too many live, when they get hit with the technical,
I don't sweat it though, I just roll,
I ain't gotta prove it I just know,
It's all ready betta get used to it
[Verse 2:]
I do hose, so if you see me on the streets and you got, beef,
Believe me nigga I do blow hella niggas brains out,
Fuckin wit mine, cuz what I do got, I got it while I was stuck on the grind,
Carryin two glocks, gettin off these rocks, gettin my rocks off,
Fuckin slut bitches with nines and to the cops soft fuckin stuff dicks in ya mind,
Fuckin ya block off, nigga, fuck you faggots, you niggas cock-soft
[Chorus:]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go,
And too many live, when they get hit with the technical,
I don't sweat it though, I just roll,
I ain't gotta prove it I just know,
It's all ready betta get used to it
[Verse 3:]
I'll put ya brains in a trash compactor, I'm smashin backwards,
And blastin at ya spot with the mac n,
I gets to crackin like a bad hair gaskin,
I'll take ya nuts, to ya momma in a basket,
I don't give a fuck, touch em up quicker than earl shine,
Dip on that ass in the pearl white and then good night,
Don't even fight, just let it go, and too many live,
When they get hit with the technical, but I don't sweat it though,
Imma blocc nigga like C-Bo, make ya bleed slow,
Jumpin over you niggas like I was Eval Knievel,
When I hit that right strapped up, you G niggas betta back up, pack up,
Cuz bodies bout to stack up, when the moseroty wearin black stuff,
And I'm back in the cut, fuckin it up, you young niggas betta wait yours,
Imma sicko psycho run in the house get so psycho blood type-O
Dancin with the devil with my hands on heavy metal, oh,
On every level go, when I put the pedal to the flo
It's good night...
[Verse 4:]
Some say I'm sicka than syphilis nigga get the picture?
I'll rip ya spleen out and cook it and go have dinner wit ya,
I'm sicker than head like Charles Michael than it takes, to get ya,
To paint different pictures if it's in the way hit ya with the siccness,
Get this nigga imma keep it gangsta,
See you in the club and run up on ya ass then bank ya,
Ain't the, nigga to be fuckin with when I got revenue,
If anybody got niggas that are rubia pop you nigga Kevin do,
I gots ta keep it that way, carry the outlaw like who is you?
I'm in grand blue like imma Dallas cowboy,
24 on my jersey hit em up by the 03,
In the morning catch em stretchin and yawnin and stretch em out,
on a ? west so 30 ?, I put em in trash bags and put em in the backyard,
like I was livin in Baghdad, I be givin niggas they hat back,
And they heart in my backpack, and they guts and they nuts,
And they intestines up in the Cadillac,
Good night, don't even fight, I split that black flag,
Niggas got it mixed up like baking soda in a crack sack,
Gotta get ya back cracked open, imma southside strangler,
Creepin up in all black like Oakland imma be the thang in ya
[Chorus: x4]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go,
And too many live, when they get hit with the technical,
I don't sweat it though, I just roll,
I ain't gotta prove it I just know,
It's all ready betta get used to it
I mix it with a bit of bakin soda,
In this crack sack in the back pack before I make em older,
I put em in the game, nigga imma franchise player,
Put it in his brain, nigga, than a zen dialator,
Roll in the quiet, I pull heavy metal when you can fry quick,
Like sizzline, all I wanna know, is is he clean,
If its not, it's right off the levy, smash off in a Chevy,
If it's hot, smoke up the whole area like Richard Petty
In his brains and his guts in his backseat, lookin like spaghetti in the pot,
Ready or not, I stay steady with the shot
From long distance for instance break out like Eddie Rock
Before I'm leavin em leavin you bleedin on yo block
[Chorus:]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go,
And too many live, when they get hit with the technical,
I don't sweat it though, I just roll,
I ain't gotta prove it I just know,
It's all ready betta get used to it
[Verse 2:]
I do hose, so if you see me on the streets and you got, beef,
Believe me nigga I do blow hella niggas brains out,
Fuckin wit mine, cuz what I do got, I got it while I was stuck on the grind,
Carryin two glocks, gettin off these rocks, gettin my rocks off,
Fuckin slut bitches with nines and to the cops soft fuckin stuff dicks in ya mind,
Fuckin ya block off, nigga, fuck you faggots, you niggas cock-soft
[Chorus:]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go,
And too many live, when they get hit with the technical,
I don't sweat it though, I just roll,
I ain't gotta prove it I just know,
It's all ready betta get used to it
[Verse 3:]
I'll put ya brains in a trash compactor, I'm smashin backwards,
And blastin at ya spot with the mac n,
I gets to crackin like a bad hair gaskin,
I'll take ya nuts, to ya momma in a basket,
I don't give a fuck, touch em up quicker than earl shine,
Dip on that ass in the pearl white and then good night,
Don't even fight, just let it go, and too many live,
When they get hit with the technical, but I don't sweat it though,
Imma blocc nigga like C-Bo, make ya bleed slow,
Jumpin over you niggas like I was Eval Knievel,
When I hit that right strapped up, you G niggas betta back up, pack up,
Cuz bodies bout to stack up, when the moseroty wearin black stuff,
And I'm back in the cut, fuckin it up, you young niggas betta wait yours,
Imma sicko psycho run in the house get so psycho blood type-O
Dancin with the devil with my hands on heavy metal, oh,
On every level go, when I put the pedal to the flo
It's good night...
[Verse 4:]
Some say I'm sicka than syphilis nigga get the picture?
I'll rip ya spleen out and cook it and go have dinner wit ya,
I'm sicker than head like Charles Michael than it takes, to get ya,
To paint different pictures if it's in the way hit ya with the siccness,
Get this nigga imma keep it gangsta,
See you in the club and run up on ya ass then bank ya,
Ain't the, nigga to be fuckin with when I got revenue,
If anybody got niggas that are rubia pop you nigga Kevin do,
I gots ta keep it that way, carry the outlaw like who is you?
I'm in grand blue like imma Dallas cowboy,
24 on my jersey hit em up by the 03,
In the morning catch em stretchin and yawnin and stretch em out,
on a ? west so 30 ?, I put em in trash bags and put em in the backyard,
like I was livin in Baghdad, I be givin niggas they hat back,
And they heart in my backpack, and they guts and they nuts,
And they intestines up in the Cadillac,
Good night, don't even fight, I split that black flag,
Niggas got it mixed up like baking soda in a crack sack,
Gotta get ya back cracked open, imma southside strangler,
Creepin up in all black like Oakland imma be the thang in ya
[Chorus: x4]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go,
And too many live, when they get hit with the technical,
I don't sweat it though, I just roll,
I ain't gotta prove it I just know,
It's all ready betta get used to it
It's Real Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Master P, Mr. Serv-On)
[Hook: sample]
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
I put you up nigga, don't trip
You did your dirt for that mark
And he left you in the dark
Sky-divin' in a bullet-proof parachute
No remorse, left you hangin
Easy aimin, lock down shoot
The Glock sounds tootin
One minute til' I'm in it
Got a business, still they ass to death
And get my scrill up in the corner, none left
Shots out to my nigga in the pen.
Didn't switch, didn't act bitch
Try to stop a nigga from gettin rich
You could dig a ditch, but you won't find shit
Left you in flames, kept the roach
You can smell the shit when I approach
I be off that stanky sack of indo-nesia
It's a evidential
I leave you hungry, eat yo cheese up
Heard you was sweet, like a Almond Joy
And I know you heard of me
Cause I'm a West-Coast Bad Boy
And I'm a sick nigga, "Sicc made! "
It gets real as I pull the pin out this grenade!
"Body Parts" like the movie
Old school Uzi
Rip yo arms out from the elbows
Nigga I smell those green leaves
The six thieves
A twenty-sack of green weed is all I need
I make you bleed, I take yo cream
I know you got it from the "Ice Cream Man"
Before you make that transaction
I need the cash in my hand
And if you don't, we can do the murder-man dance
Under any circumstance, I'm a have yo hands
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Master P]
Brotha Lynch, I'm a make you a deal you can't refuse
My phone tapped
The new code for halfs and wholes is t-shirts and tennis-shoes
From the yay, I got the sneakers
Sixty-five for a shoe nigga, if you got the tweakers
Meet me down-south, New Orleans we bumpin
I get this bitch jumpin, you got the money
I got the g's, flip the ki's, and the o-z's
We could blow some weed
And talk about this shit smokin some trees
But watch yo back, keep yo handle bar cocked
Too many Federal Agents pretend to be hustlers, but really cops
Send it across the border, nigga like Taco Bell
Put it in a plane, a boat, UPS, nigga I could get it there
I'm surrounded by cocktails, I mean hoes in mini-skirts
Ain't no free dick out here, it's time to put in work
Put these hoes on a Greyhound, fool if it's goin down
And make 'em bring it back, from my hood, to your town
And it's all good, nigga it's like wax
And we could slang these records like motherfuckin crack
And if they bumpin, we gotta keep 'em jumpin
Cause it's all about the cheddar, the cheese, and the money
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Mr. Serv-On]
A criminal tatted front-to-back
Always 'bout my jack
Doin a dope-deal, forget to bring yo strap
Let it be fact, I blast first
I know no nigga that smart in a hearse
Who cursed, my dope and money life
A Eagle with blood stains in the scope
Be my wife, live yo life
Til' death do us part
Start my gangsta bounce
Thirty-six ounce, to a ki
Got this T-O-D in ya face
Now tell me the fuck else you got free
A thousand pounds of that skunk
Ready to jump, smokin everything I can, huh
Master P, and Brotha Lynch Hung
Let me serve some dick to these niggas with they tongues out
Eighty-five in the south
Twenty-four in the east
See my scrilla, blow like yeast
Cross my fingers, pull my wife
It's hot tonight
A murder case, got away with a hundred g's
And a couple of wild geese, headed west
Capiche?
A hundred clunkers waitin my arrival
Dirty... survival
[Hook: to fade]
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
Hey man, it's real
Knowin that
[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
I put you up nigga, don't trip
You did your dirt for that mark
And he left you in the dark
Sky-divin' in a bullet-proof parachute
No remorse, left you hangin
Easy aimin, lock down shoot
The Glock sounds tootin
One minute til' I'm in it
Got a business, still they ass to death
And get my scrill up in the corner, none left
Shots out to my nigga in the pen.
Didn't switch, didn't act bitch
Try to stop a nigga from gettin rich
You could dig a ditch, but you won't find shit
Left you in flames, kept the roach
You can smell the shit when I approach
I be off that stanky sack of indo-nesia
It's a evidential
I leave you hungry, eat yo cheese up
Heard you was sweet, like a Almond Joy
And I know you heard of me
Cause I'm a West-Coast Bad Boy
And I'm a sick nigga, "Sicc made! "
It gets real as I pull the pin out this grenade!
"Body Parts" like the movie
Old school Uzi
Rip yo arms out from the elbows
Nigga I smell those green leaves
The six thieves
A twenty-sack of green weed is all I need
I make you bleed, I take yo cream
I know you got it from the "Ice Cream Man"
Before you make that transaction
I need the cash in my hand
And if you don't, we can do the murder-man dance
Under any circumstance, I'm a have yo hands
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Master P]
Brotha Lynch, I'm a make you a deal you can't refuse
My phone tapped
The new code for halfs and wholes is t-shirts and tennis-shoes
From the yay, I got the sneakers
Sixty-five for a shoe nigga, if you got the tweakers
Meet me down-south, New Orleans we bumpin
I get this bitch jumpin, you got the money
I got the g's, flip the ki's, and the o-z's
We could blow some weed
And talk about this shit smokin some trees
But watch yo back, keep yo handle bar cocked
Too many Federal Agents pretend to be hustlers, but really cops
Send it across the border, nigga like Taco Bell
Put it in a plane, a boat, UPS, nigga I could get it there
I'm surrounded by cocktails, I mean hoes in mini-skirts
Ain't no free dick out here, it's time to put in work
Put these hoes on a Greyhound, fool if it's goin down
And make 'em bring it back, from my hood, to your town
And it's all good, nigga it's like wax
And we could slang these records like motherfuckin crack
And if they bumpin, we gotta keep 'em jumpin
Cause it's all about the cheddar, the cheese, and the money
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Mr. Serv-On]
A criminal tatted front-to-back
Always 'bout my jack
Doin a dope-deal, forget to bring yo strap
Let it be fact, I blast first
I know no nigga that smart in a hearse
Who cursed, my dope and money life
A Eagle with blood stains in the scope
Be my wife, live yo life
Til' death do us part
Start my gangsta bounce
Thirty-six ounce, to a ki
Got this T-O-D in ya face
Now tell me the fuck else you got free
A thousand pounds of that skunk
Ready to jump, smokin everything I can, huh
Master P, and Brotha Lynch Hung
Let me serve some dick to these niggas with they tongues out
Eighty-five in the south
Twenty-four in the east
See my scrilla, blow like yeast
Cross my fingers, pull my wife
It's hot tonight
A murder case, got away with a hundred g's
And a couple of wild geese, headed west
Capiche?
A hundred clunkers waitin my arrival
Dirty... survival
[Hook: to fade]
Refuce 2 Looze Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. D-Dubb)
[Chorus x4: Lynch and D-Dubb]
I re-fuse to lose
Fuck them 22's
I got an AP 10 and a throwaway Tech 9
So you know you can't fuck with mine
[Verse 1]
[Lynch]
If I was standing in the dark letting my nine spark
[D-Dub]
Maybe in the morning, motherfuckers might feel me yet
[Lynch]
It's that nine tech nigga that got them motherfuckers tore up
As I smash of in a seven deuce cut, you holding your gut
Talking about
[D-Dub and Lynch]
What the fuck you smoking on?
[Lynch]
All dome as the chronics got me gone
Nigga it's on
On 'til the slugs come out
[D-Dub]
At night I do my murder red rum so tight
[Lynch]
I'ts the third strike nigga
So now I'm aiming up at your dome
'Bout to make your brain split and hit the Fleetwood Brome
I'm like Richard Chase, mixed with Al Capone
If you want some ripgut shit nigga
Yeah, I got it sewn
So bone to the crib, or get your wig split fool, with the tech chrome
And say the alphabet backwards fast or find you a brand new dome
A criminal minded nigga that gots tefs in his nine
So head to the East side, 'cause it's red rum time, nigga
[Chorus x4]
[Verse 2]
Nigga, it's that-Sac of Indo-Killafornia State of mind
Where niggas put their gangster gear on, and bend corners
In a Chev 69
Wire rims
You can't see
With their neighborhood flags and their black Carthart beenie
I'm like Genie
As I swoop through the hood and get up to no good
And I wish you would
Test my tech, 'cause nigga, it loves to take out necks
And empty backs out, so I max out
350 on the black top
More smoke than chronic smoking
Loced out sherm, classic perm
In my ashtray, there's always a roach
Hit the left lane in case one times approach
I got, 5 warrants and some '89 tags
17 in the clip of my, auto mag
I'ts sad
I gotta watch my back, 'cause these niggas wanna throw me up in a black
leather sack, and throw me over their back
But fuck that
Why you think I got extended clips
'Cause I'm so high, most of the time
I just can't miss, nigga
[Chorus x4]
I re-fuse to lose
Fuck them 22's
I got an AP 10 and a throwaway Tech 9
So you know you can't fuck with mine
[Verse 1]
[Lynch]
If I was standing in the dark letting my nine spark
[D-Dub]
Maybe in the morning, motherfuckers might feel me yet
[Lynch]
It's that nine tech nigga that got them motherfuckers tore up
As I smash of in a seven deuce cut, you holding your gut
Talking about
[D-Dub and Lynch]
What the fuck you smoking on?
[Lynch]
All dome as the chronics got me gone
Nigga it's on
On 'til the slugs come out
[D-Dub]
At night I do my murder red rum so tight
[Lynch]
I'ts the third strike nigga
So now I'm aiming up at your dome
'Bout to make your brain split and hit the Fleetwood Brome
I'm like Richard Chase, mixed with Al Capone
If you want some ripgut shit nigga
Yeah, I got it sewn
So bone to the crib, or get your wig split fool, with the tech chrome
And say the alphabet backwards fast or find you a brand new dome
A criminal minded nigga that gots tefs in his nine
So head to the East side, 'cause it's red rum time, nigga
[Chorus x4]
[Verse 2]
Nigga, it's that-Sac of Indo-Killafornia State of mind
Where niggas put their gangster gear on, and bend corners
In a Chev 69
Wire rims
You can't see
With their neighborhood flags and their black Carthart beenie
I'm like Genie
As I swoop through the hood and get up to no good
And I wish you would
Test my tech, 'cause nigga, it loves to take out necks
And empty backs out, so I max out
350 on the black top
More smoke than chronic smoking
Loced out sherm, classic perm
In my ashtray, there's always a roach
Hit the left lane in case one times approach
I got, 5 warrants and some '89 tags
17 in the clip of my, auto mag
I'ts sad
I gotta watch my back, 'cause these niggas wanna throw me up in a black
leather sack, and throw me over their back
But fuck that
Why you think I got extended clips
'Cause I'm so high, most of the time
I just can't miss, nigga
[Chorus x4]
Situation On Dirty Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
V-Town in the motherfucker, situation dirty and shit
Killa, yeah
Today's out to be recognized
[Verse 1]
I got that nigga for about 4 zones, had to get dirty though
Left him in his driveway soakin wet sold his 6.4
Couldn't keep it no mo' that motherfucker was filthy
Mo' bodies done been in that trunk
than in the cemetary and the mortuary
Had a bullethole by the gas tank, put 1500 in the bank
Drig the bitch for 18 but spent 300 last year on some dank
Shot to my brothers house and got them niggaz high
It was the Man Klan, 3 Deep, and the nigga six
we was off that chocolate thai
And all that time that 187 was on my mind
Shot the man in cold blood
and I knew his momma saw the drive-by
Design, and there ain't no tv until you see me
On Americas Most Wanted fucked up gettin snatched out my teepee
Nigga we in the back of the 69 Cut', and it's so foggy
Paranoia done got me on my strap and I'm a fiend for raw meat
They say all niggaz talk about is murderin and gettin high
But situation gettin filty and I gots ta have mine
[Chorus x2]
With me it's like American Express, I don't leave home without my
Smith-n-Wesson bulletproof vest
I done dug myself a hole, now I'm trying to climb back out
Ya fuck with the wrong nigga, I wish my brother was out
[Verse 2]
Now it started back in SouthSide sack, I was with my momma
Drinkin' inches of the Old E, hittin chronic ever so often
Often in another world trippin', while he was on another room stickin
My click think sick I got that 12 guage pump started trippin
Kick the door open, blood stains cops came
Quietly I had to remaintain thang, same thang
My love don't fit you, I got that US military issue
Had to plant one in your brain, get away, if a cop plead insane
A couple of down ass top notches I used to know, had a spot
I was good for 4 days off yack and chronic and makin' a plot
Cause murder was the case, when I saw his face
Took his life, left his brains all over the pillow case
What would you be thinkin of when your momma's yelling STOP!
My first thought was cut him in half and drag the other half to his stash
They say all niggaz talk about is murderin and gettin high but situation
real filthy and I got ta get mine
[Chorus]
With me it's like American Express, I don't leave home without my
Smith-n-Wesson Bulletproof vest,
I done dug myself a hole, now I'm trying to climb back out
Ya fuck with the wrong nigga, I wish my brother was out [fades]
Killa, yeah
Today's out to be recognized
[Verse 1]
I got that nigga for about 4 zones, had to get dirty though
Left him in his driveway soakin wet sold his 6.4
Couldn't keep it no mo' that motherfucker was filthy
Mo' bodies done been in that trunk
than in the cemetary and the mortuary
Had a bullethole by the gas tank, put 1500 in the bank
Drig the bitch for 18 but spent 300 last year on some dank
Shot to my brothers house and got them niggaz high
It was the Man Klan, 3 Deep, and the nigga six
we was off that chocolate thai
And all that time that 187 was on my mind
Shot the man in cold blood
and I knew his momma saw the drive-by
Design, and there ain't no tv until you see me
On Americas Most Wanted fucked up gettin snatched out my teepee
Nigga we in the back of the 69 Cut', and it's so foggy
Paranoia done got me on my strap and I'm a fiend for raw meat
They say all niggaz talk about is murderin and gettin high
But situation gettin filty and I gots ta have mine
[Chorus x2]
With me it's like American Express, I don't leave home without my
Smith-n-Wesson bulletproof vest
I done dug myself a hole, now I'm trying to climb back out
Ya fuck with the wrong nigga, I wish my brother was out
[Verse 2]
Now it started back in SouthSide sack, I was with my momma
Drinkin' inches of the Old E, hittin chronic ever so often
Often in another world trippin', while he was on another room stickin
My click think sick I got that 12 guage pump started trippin
Kick the door open, blood stains cops came
Quietly I had to remaintain thang, same thang
My love don't fit you, I got that US military issue
Had to plant one in your brain, get away, if a cop plead insane
A couple of down ass top notches I used to know, had a spot
I was good for 4 days off yack and chronic and makin' a plot
Cause murder was the case, when I saw his face
Took his life, left his brains all over the pillow case
What would you be thinkin of when your momma's yelling STOP!
My first thought was cut him in half and drag the other half to his stash
They say all niggaz talk about is murderin and gettin high but situation
real filthy and I got ta get mine
[Chorus]
With me it's like American Express, I don't leave home without my
Smith-n-Wesson Bulletproof vest,
I done dug myself a hole, now I'm trying to climb back out
Ya fuck with the wrong nigga, I wish my brother was out [fades]
The Corpse Came To Dinner Lyrics – Brotha Lynch Hung
[Verse 1]
It's a must that I bust any strap ya hand ta me
It's inherited, it runs in the family
Niggaz in the town got pounds of beef
Threaten a niggaz life, make it sound so sweet
I peel 'em back like corn-on-the-cob, cap peel 'em
Make 'em sound like a whore on the job
Witta Mac in the backpack, fulla that crack sack
Gettin' it off (Better have my muthafuckin money)
Bitch where my siccmade 'til I die shit, nobody saw
So I was able ta wipe the blood off the hallway walls
Ain't got nothin ta live for
Can't even trust a bitch, might have ta leave her alone
Ma had ta dig a ditch, shit so rigorous
Dealin' wit hataz, snitchaz, and bitchaz, get they brains gone
Find a new home, you one life is gone
Cuz I'm O-One, check the clock
And if these walls could talk, muthafuckaz'll be shot
I'm about ta go 51-50, got nobody wit me
Stressed out like Whitney, Bobby Brown, weed and whiskey
Smokin' Newports, no support
But like Too Short I keep it goin'
Shootin' up forts, who in this sport wanna fuck wit me
Come on the court, rippin' out insides
Puttin' stains on thangs, that's when I rip-ride
And I slip-slide through the Gardens witta bloody t-shirt, it won't hurt
Look at this way, 6 feet deep in the dirt won't hurt
Flirtin' wit murda, I leave 'em unheard of
And I'm sicca than period pads drippin'
All over your hands gettin'
The back seat or the trunk, it's your choice
Dead or alive, smothered and fried
The way you better uncover your eyes, I'm in the skies
Witta 9 tryin' ta take out your spine
Nobody know crime, throw up that sicc sign
And strike hard like stricc-nine
No recovery, you other G niggaz betta duck
Leave you in the tuxed up
Psycho, off the wall like Michael
Always paranoid cuz I be blowin' out that nitro
All day, every day, murda spray, got you in Glad Bags
Headed for the pad, and you can ask my dad
I was a scavenger, 14 years old eatin' scabs
Graduated ta nigga meat, but I don't wanna brag
Fuck Jeffry Dohmer, he a muthafuckin fag
I got nigga nuts and guts in the bag, draggin' 'em ta the pad
[Chorus]
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
[Verse 2]
Fuck under the influence, I'm hella fucked up
Swervin' down the freeway, spillin' my cup
Tryin' take you out this rap on the Underbelly
He ain't shit, he 'bout ta be in the trunk smelly
By me and my Relly, you never know
Whatever tho, I got auto magazines and that weak intro
What you got against me?
Don't you know I rip niggaz up, turn 'em ta minced meat
Well if you got some sense, beat it, like raw eggs
I used ta have hella homies, now they all hate
But I'ma leave it alone, I'm on my own like a voodoo nigga
If a nigga want ta get ate, what would you do nigga
I was too cool wit 'em, group of niggaz and they tripped on me
Gave 'em a little bit of fame, then they dipped on me
But you know, it's all in the game, tell the crip homie
Ta hit 'em witta slug in the brain, that's what you get from me
Crash dummy, your careers defected
And you ain't sold a record last time I checked it
You just keep knockin', I feel disrespected
Now your neck got disconnected by the Lynch Hung necklace
Hey, I leave 'em red, and I don't eat the head
Let the Tec spit and chop niggaz down ta the ground like Judge Dread
Come up in the door lookin' just like a fed
And you call yourself a rap vet
Get out the bed, and let me fuck her like she should be fucked
All in the butt, wit the 9 milly, swallowin' nut
And you see me in black clothes, creepin' from the back
Don't know how ta act, black blankets fulla Mac's
I use 'em for nutsacks and full body sacks
Better not let your daughter out, end up in the slaughter house
Chokin' and spittin', chest open and bleedin'
And me fuckin' her from the back, and I hope for you ta see it
[Chorus]
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Hey Folks, open the door nigga)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Nah, nah, open the trunk)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
It's a must that I bust any strap ya hand ta me
It's inherited, it runs in the family
Niggaz in the town got pounds of beef
Threaten a niggaz life, make it sound so sweet
I peel 'em back like corn-on-the-cob, cap peel 'em
Make 'em sound like a whore on the job
Witta Mac in the backpack, fulla that crack sack
Gettin' it off (Better have my muthafuckin money)
Bitch where my siccmade 'til I die shit, nobody saw
So I was able ta wipe the blood off the hallway walls
Ain't got nothin ta live for
Can't even trust a bitch, might have ta leave her alone
Ma had ta dig a ditch, shit so rigorous
Dealin' wit hataz, snitchaz, and bitchaz, get they brains gone
Find a new home, you one life is gone
Cuz I'm O-One, check the clock
And if these walls could talk, muthafuckaz'll be shot
I'm about ta go 51-50, got nobody wit me
Stressed out like Whitney, Bobby Brown, weed and whiskey
Smokin' Newports, no support
But like Too Short I keep it goin'
Shootin' up forts, who in this sport wanna fuck wit me
Come on the court, rippin' out insides
Puttin' stains on thangs, that's when I rip-ride
And I slip-slide through the Gardens witta bloody t-shirt, it won't hurt
Look at this way, 6 feet deep in the dirt won't hurt
Flirtin' wit murda, I leave 'em unheard of
And I'm sicca than period pads drippin'
All over your hands gettin'
The back seat or the trunk, it's your choice
Dead or alive, smothered and fried
The way you better uncover your eyes, I'm in the skies
Witta 9 tryin' ta take out your spine
Nobody know crime, throw up that sicc sign
And strike hard like stricc-nine
No recovery, you other G niggaz betta duck
Leave you in the tuxed up
Psycho, off the wall like Michael
Always paranoid cuz I be blowin' out that nitro
All day, every day, murda spray, got you in Glad Bags
Headed for the pad, and you can ask my dad
I was a scavenger, 14 years old eatin' scabs
Graduated ta nigga meat, but I don't wanna brag
Fuck Jeffry Dohmer, he a muthafuckin fag
I got nigga nuts and guts in the bag, draggin' 'em ta the pad
[Chorus]
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
[Verse 2]
Fuck under the influence, I'm hella fucked up
Swervin' down the freeway, spillin' my cup
Tryin' take you out this rap on the Underbelly
He ain't shit, he 'bout ta be in the trunk smelly
By me and my Relly, you never know
Whatever tho, I got auto magazines and that weak intro
What you got against me?
Don't you know I rip niggaz up, turn 'em ta minced meat
Well if you got some sense, beat it, like raw eggs
I used ta have hella homies, now they all hate
But I'ma leave it alone, I'm on my own like a voodoo nigga
If a nigga want ta get ate, what would you do nigga
I was too cool wit 'em, group of niggaz and they tripped on me
Gave 'em a little bit of fame, then they dipped on me
But you know, it's all in the game, tell the crip homie
Ta hit 'em witta slug in the brain, that's what you get from me
Crash dummy, your careers defected
And you ain't sold a record last time I checked it
You just keep knockin', I feel disrespected
Now your neck got disconnected by the Lynch Hung necklace
Hey, I leave 'em red, and I don't eat the head
Let the Tec spit and chop niggaz down ta the ground like Judge Dread
Come up in the door lookin' just like a fed
And you call yourself a rap vet
Get out the bed, and let me fuck her like she should be fucked
All in the butt, wit the 9 milly, swallowin' nut
And you see me in black clothes, creepin' from the back
Don't know how ta act, black blankets fulla Mac's
I use 'em for nutsacks and full body sacks
Better not let your daughter out, end up in the slaughter house
Chokin' and spittin', chest open and bleedin'
And me fuckin' her from the back, and I hope for you ta see it
[Chorus]
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Corpse came ta dinner)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Hey Folks, open the door nigga)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
(Nah, nah, open the trunk)
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask
Tremendous lyrics - brotha lynch hung (feat. D-Dub, Sicx, Tall Can)
[Verse 1]
Off the rossi twisted, I'm not yo average package
Snatch it, too bad ya had to miss it, english keeps me lifted
We can take a, one good leg to kick it
My walkin til I'm crippled, talkin sick wit it
Top of shiznit, til it get noted that I'm liquid
Quick we bustin on all you rivals
All about survival, liabale, to burn up every bible
Cuz ain't no fuckin wit my style, dial 1-800-fuck-it
Cuz I'm zoned up out my mind,
and based on the notion that it's kill a nigga nine times
Sonic boom like Guile, Dr. Doom proper room wit space
Cuz I'm off the wall like Michael, Myers, cream like Dryers
I is, certified fifty, nifty
Won't it be one hella've sight to try an get me
Sticky as a gasimist, I be leavin clits with hickeys
English go over to mickey's
incredible like bitch be tryin to pull sixty-six point sixty
Victim full of fish, cook 'em shook 'em like yahtzee
I'm mo' hated than a nazi
Scorchin Niggaz is my posse, try to stop me
[Chorus]
Brotha Lynch keeps me tremendous
Tall Can keeps me tremendous
X-Raided keeps me tremendous
and these be my brothers an they keep me in this
Big Nation keeps me tremendous
Capone, and Silouette, keeps me tremendous
Annihilation keeps me tremendous
Now these is scorchin niggaz an they keep me in this
[Verse 2]
I got some shit to blow my mind,
that I juss can't shake,
just give me a microphone, a Phonk Beta beat
Watch me eat these niggaz up like Jason
chasin you through camp pistol lake
like a wolf on crank hit the dank,
the tank up, put on the make-up
an come back to life like Brandon Lee,
hit the corner, wit a four-four loner,
on a one way trip off that water,
Run fo yo life, the mic rock hard
I'm fuckin wit no grease no love fo the police
watch for the boner, bend over, swig the Olde E
The microphone fling, the leather chrome green
Left the scene clean, like death on halloween
Like a hollow tip, smoke somethin mean
built the mic, an the drink one for you an one for me
And call me Superflex, cuz like that mic I'm breakin necks
Run train tracks, like stand by me, lookin for any dead body,
I'm grip like a pitbull, leave yo brain gone like Muhammad Ali,
Mista Nightridah's creepin up by the minute, sky's the limit
super-duper storm trooper, gotta watch my back like Martin Luther
See me comin wit my bright lights out
Tremendous, that's what Sicx is all about
[Chorus]
Black flags keeps me tremendous
Dickey saggin keeps me tremendous
Beleini Way keeps me tremendous
Do or die double E, nigga deep up in this
Old English keeps me way twisted
Tequila lime keeps me way twisted
Gets me in the mood to handle unfinished biz-ness
Intoxication keeps a nigga in this
[Verse 3]
I mix my gin wit my Olee E, tremendous
Hit 'em all up, get 'em all up, out they suspenders
with my big bad automag, toe tag
for that meet 'em bottomless I betta be glad
I got 'em this, straight, heated glass
Drag a ninja wit my pants saggin, gaggin
I'm sick music made, sicker than a pit in shit
I'm wit Sicx, Tall Can and Fig
Dicks big, got you fiendin fo the sickness, Swartzenagger
Free weed gets me tremendous
Juicy clits get me tremendous
Loose lips gets me tremendous
Swartzenagger an you know I'm in this
My nigga six he got me in this
Tall Cen, I told ya I'm in this
my nigga Fig, I'm glad you in this
I put that on my mama I'm a make my grip
Swartzen-nigga, all the way to represent
ya know, it's the way we gonna do it
nine-seven, an forever, fiends is talkin
can't even knock our hustle cuz we're tremendous
An ya best believe that
Swartzen-nigga, that's right give it to ya here
Mr. Caine an I'm out
Off the rossi twisted, I'm not yo average package
Snatch it, too bad ya had to miss it, english keeps me lifted
We can take a, one good leg to kick it
My walkin til I'm crippled, talkin sick wit it
Top of shiznit, til it get noted that I'm liquid
Quick we bustin on all you rivals
All about survival, liabale, to burn up every bible
Cuz ain't no fuckin wit my style, dial 1-800-fuck-it
Cuz I'm zoned up out my mind,
and based on the notion that it's kill a nigga nine times
Sonic boom like Guile, Dr. Doom proper room wit space
Cuz I'm off the wall like Michael, Myers, cream like Dryers
I is, certified fifty, nifty
Won't it be one hella've sight to try an get me
Sticky as a gasimist, I be leavin clits with hickeys
English go over to mickey's
incredible like bitch be tryin to pull sixty-six point sixty
Victim full of fish, cook 'em shook 'em like yahtzee
I'm mo' hated than a nazi
Scorchin Niggaz is my posse, try to stop me
[Chorus]
Brotha Lynch keeps me tremendous
Tall Can keeps me tremendous
X-Raided keeps me tremendous
and these be my brothers an they keep me in this
Big Nation keeps me tremendous
Capone, and Silouette, keeps me tremendous
Annihilation keeps me tremendous
Now these is scorchin niggaz an they keep me in this
[Verse 2]
I got some shit to blow my mind,
that I juss can't shake,
just give me a microphone, a Phonk Beta beat
Watch me eat these niggaz up like Jason
chasin you through camp pistol lake
like a wolf on crank hit the dank,
the tank up, put on the make-up
an come back to life like Brandon Lee,
hit the corner, wit a four-four loner,
on a one way trip off that water,
Run fo yo life, the mic rock hard
I'm fuckin wit no grease no love fo the police
watch for the boner, bend over, swig the Olde E
The microphone fling, the leather chrome green
Left the scene clean, like death on halloween
Like a hollow tip, smoke somethin mean
built the mic, an the drink one for you an one for me
And call me Superflex, cuz like that mic I'm breakin necks
Run train tracks, like stand by me, lookin for any dead body,
I'm grip like a pitbull, leave yo brain gone like Muhammad Ali,
Mista Nightridah's creepin up by the minute, sky's the limit
super-duper storm trooper, gotta watch my back like Martin Luther
See me comin wit my bright lights out
Tremendous, that's what Sicx is all about
[Chorus]
Black flags keeps me tremendous
Dickey saggin keeps me tremendous
Beleini Way keeps me tremendous
Do or die double E, nigga deep up in this
Old English keeps me way twisted
Tequila lime keeps me way twisted
Gets me in the mood to handle unfinished biz-ness
Intoxication keeps a nigga in this
[Verse 3]
I mix my gin wit my Olee E, tremendous
Hit 'em all up, get 'em all up, out they suspenders
with my big bad automag, toe tag
for that meet 'em bottomless I betta be glad
I got 'em this, straight, heated glass
Drag a ninja wit my pants saggin, gaggin
I'm sick music made, sicker than a pit in shit
I'm wit Sicx, Tall Can and Fig
Dicks big, got you fiendin fo the sickness, Swartzenagger
Free weed gets me tremendous
Juicy clits get me tremendous
Loose lips gets me tremendous
Swartzenagger an you know I'm in this
My nigga six he got me in this
Tall Cen, I told ya I'm in this
my nigga Fig, I'm glad you in this
I put that on my mama I'm a make my grip
Swartzen-nigga, all the way to represent
ya know, it's the way we gonna do it
nine-seven, an forever, fiends is talkin
can't even knock our hustle cuz we're tremendous
An ya best believe that
Swartzen-nigga, that's right give it to ya here
Mr. Caine an I'm out
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