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Brotha Lynch Hung

Brotha Lynch Hung and Siccmade Muzicc Pr

  gangsta rap  horrorcore  rap  hip-hop  sacramento
592 3 часа назад

Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung - Brotha Lynch Hung and Siccmade Muzicc Pr

Brotha Lynch Hung - Brotha Lynch Hung and Siccmade Muzicc Pr слова песни

[Verse 1]It`s a must that I bust any strap ya hand ta meIt`s inherited, it runs in the familyNiggaz in the town got pounds of beefThreaten a niggaz life, make it sound so sweetI peel `em back like corn-on-the-cob, cap peel `emMake `em sound like a whore on the jobWitta Mac in the backpack, fulla that crack sackGettin` it off (Better have my muthafuckin money)Bitch where my siccmade `til I die shit, nobody sawSo I was able ta wipe the blood off the hallway wallsAin`t got nothin ta live forCan`t even trust a bitch, might have ta leave her aloneMa had ta dig a ditch, shit so rigorousDealin` wit hataz, snitchaz, and bitchaz, get they brains goneFind a new home, you one life is goneCuz I`m O-One, check the clockAnd if these walls could talk, muthafuckaz`ll be shotI`m about ta go 51-50, got nobody wit meStressed out like Whitney, Bobby Brown, weed and whiskeySmokin` 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 insidesPuttin` stains on thangs, that`s when I rip-ride And I slip-slide through the Gardens witta bloody t-shirt, it won`t hurtLook at this way, 6 feet deep in the dirt won`t hurtFlirtin` wit murda, I leave `em unheard ofAnd I`m sicca than period pads drippin`All over your hands gettin` The back seat or the trunk, it`s your choiceDead or alive, smothered and friedThe way you better uncover your eyes, I`m in the skiesWitta 9 tryin` ta take out your spineNobody know crime, throw up that sicc signAnd strike hard like stricc-nineNo recovery, you other G niggaz betta duckLeave you in the tuxed upPsycho, off the wall like MichaelAlways paranoid cuz I be blowin` out that nitroAll day, every day, murda spray, got you in Glad BagsHeaded for the pad, and you can ask my dadI was a scavenger, 14 years old eatin` scabsGraduated ta nigga meat, but I don`t wanna bragFuck Jeffry Dohmer, he a muthafuckin fagI 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 maskZiplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask(Corpse came ta dinner)Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black maskZiplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask(Corpse came ta dinner)Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black maskZiplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask(Corpse came ta dinner)Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black maskZiplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask[Verse 2]Fuck under the influence, I`m hella fucked upSwervin` down the freeway, spillin` my cupTryin` take you out this rap on the UnderbellyHe ain`t shit, he `bout ta be in the trunk smellyBy me and my Relly, you never knowWhatever tho, I got auto magazines and that weak introWhat you got against me?Don`t you know I rip niggaz up, turn `em ta minced meatWell if you got some sense, beat it, like raw eggs I used ta have hella homies, now they all hateBut I`ma leave it alone, I`m on my own like a voodoo niggaIf a nigga want ta get ate, what would you do niggaI was too cool wit `em, group of niggaz and they tripped on meGave `em a little bit of fame, then they dipped on meBut 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 meCrash dummy, your careers defectedAnd you ain`t sold a record last time I checked itYou just keep knockin`, I feel disrespected Now your neck got disconnected by the Lynch Hung necklaceHey, I leave `em red, and I don`t eat the headLet the Tec spit and chop niggaz down ta the ground like Judge DreadCome up in the door lookin` just like a fedAnd you call yourself a rap vetGet out the bed, and let me fuck her like she should be fuckedAll in the butt, wit the 9 milly, swallowin` nutAnd you see me in black clothes, creepin` from the backDon`t know how ta act, black blankets fulla Mac`sI use `em for nutsacks and full body sacksBetter not let your daughter out, end up in the slaughter houseChokin` and spittin`, chest open and bleedin`And me fuckin` her from the back, and I hope for you ta see it[Chorus]

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