Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Polo, - Loaded, слова песни Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Polo,

Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Polo, - Loaded

Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Polo, - Loaded слова песни

(First Degree):The evil that men do got me servin` heatersMorphin` them body bleeders into believersHad these bitches bringin` me cleavage and cannibis-sativaBig leaguers, wide receivers, we quivers off malt litersSo lead us to the cheap shit, got more close so I could reach itNeed it in the jungle, humble man gone too soon, wasn`t ready for the rumbleSo I disperse my seasoning, pleasing when I get to reasoningLike soul cleaner, when did it, when did it get to heatin` up?Fuck, fuck, another fuck, fuck the bitch and they stuckFuck till they brains stuffed, then changed they demeanor, after sticking in vaginaTurn a perfect stranger into my part time personal rump rangerWorkin` the night shift, temporary employment, ya mind says fight itBut your emotions is delighted, and thats what runs you sensitive bitches and niggas Get ran for a loop, my heat is a muthafuck, First DegreeOh First Degree so bound to the city, sittin` high lookin` down next up to the climaxStayin` deliciously loaded, quit my fry, Mr. Hot burnin` fleshGot that THC marinatin` in my chest, that stays I guessSo I`m approachin` this light shit, and heatin` it beautifulI`ma tokin` this wide stick, hittin` plentifulHuh, huh, huh, tryna make my dollar(Polo):I got somethin` for your maskThis shit here is hard to swallowCould be hazardous to your healthFully equipped to leave your insides hollowZiplock lips and listenI`m on a mission, switchin` positionsIn case of accidental consumption Dilute with 2 cups of milk and contact your physicianHeated and hanged, who am I? Trigger Man, suspect number oneI let loose, do not induce vomiting, or you throwing up your lungDialing 9-1-1, it`s flammable, uncontainableYou die by the superfly when I spy, flip and grip, changeableSpecially formulated to have all costs regulatedAnd also the ones that participated in playing bitch games, and plain playa hatin`5 foot 6", sick hogg and all about minesDead bodies don`t talk, kill `em, tape and chalkSo if you fall short....flatlineNigga, when you near give me adequate ventilationAvoid physical contact and inhalationFacial premeditation can lead to skin and eye irritationDoes that exlude a bitch, Boot town boot up, shoot up shitNever water based, straight laced to your faceWith no nurse or first aid chase, no after tasteNow brace yourself for the hand that rocks the cradleNigga them conversations lead to sticky situations that sometimes turn fatalHogg translation: Blew yay up straight with this heated associationIllustrations, picture yourself in a body bag wearin` them closed casket decorationsI got a house full of heaters and liters of gas to light up that assAnd it`s mandatory, too short for long conversationNo pre-animation, no nuts, no glory, no witness, no storyMakin` derogatory statements with my stainlessSlugs with names signed in blood, individuals stuffed up the anusDangerous, aimin` for your bodyAlmost definitely pull that for hand to hand combat karateIt`s some a that southern young fool(P-Folk):Now what`s up? I look in the rearview mirrorChevy Astro van`s suspiciousUsin` my brain, beware of the gameSuspects might be thinkin` I`m fakin`It`s a habit to be caught with and withoutReachin` up under my seat to grab my pieceAnd the chamber done gauged a roundTurn a beat down, put it in first gear, slow paceThinkin` that I might be paranoidEffects from the filthy re-chronic blunt that I just smoked with my boysSped ahead, hogg check, all red til` I`m deadAnd I`ll be damned if these niggas try to make me, P-Folk, brake breadI`m tied up to it, I`m dread, like it said `you live by the sword, you die by the sword`These niggas don`t know they got a one way ticket home to the LordSo bullets will spray, be up and out the situationAnd since it`s a jack move, my objective is I gotta take `emRoll `em outta the mainstreamHow they warped thinkin` they been ejected all up in my sectionMake a left down El Cord, toward northern directionViewer discretion, preparation for a justified homicideThese niggas know they ain`t no friend of mine, (check they self)Caught up at a red lightGrippin` this trilli, thug from Hollis with nuthin` to proveCome here ruge, enemies hoppin` up out the low, P-Folks refuse to loseSplit ones wig with the zig, evidently he didn`t see my third eyeThe second suspect tried to hit P-Folk from the blind sideExchangin` round for round, look like a match, the lead sped out the strapOne enemy down, two enemies gone, hollow point penetration to the backThe villain defeated, the driver retreated and his partna leadedJack got cracked in the mask, for sho` I`m heated

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Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung f First Degree, Polo, - Loaded

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