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(Brotha Lynch Hung f)

Swartzaniggaz (C.O.S., Sicx, Tall Cann G

177 3 часа назад

Текст песни (Brotha Lynch Hung f) - Swartzaniggaz (C.O.S., Sicx, Tall Cann G

(Brotha Lynch Hung f) - Swartzaniggaz (C.O.S., Sicx, Tall Cann G слова песни

Typed by: peterols@algonet.se, OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash[Intro: Sicx]Yeah.. luchini, Swartzanigga, hahaThat`s why you gonna dieC.O.S., Northgate, my nigga Fig, Tall Cann G, CaponeI`m that nigga Sicx[Verse 1: Sicx]Ain`t nathin funny about this money I`m tryin to make, straight brokeSo everything I take serious cause 4-25 ain`t no fuckin jokeAn everyday struggle, puttin down this hustle`s harder that it looksBut the mo` dirt, that I do the mo` these niggaz hooked on bein a crookSkrillas my major concern I`m burnin just to get a sniffof that scratch, but the catcher can`t see me so I`ll be ski`nwith my mask on; ski money gets my blast on, in a major waySo my paper stays stacked, way back behind some boxesIn that (?) wait that nigga in Killa Cali stay realAutomatically kill, without no feelings still gets dirty Then I`m that-a-way, clockin mo` luchi than John Belushi made from +Blues Brothers+ so choose your mother`s funeral dressThen feel my Smif & Wes, shiftin through you vest, rippin up your chestPickin up the rest cause when I does my dirt won`t leave a messAll by my lonesome most of them (??)blocks stay hot like rock spots, with one-time posin on each blockI want G-knots, so I eavesdrops, on C-spots, then I`m out with 5-0 never knowin about my caperat home countin up that paperCan`t wait to, go robbin through your hoodMr. Invisible`s only concern is, to get his, when I get caught with them residuals nigga[Chorus: Sicx]So call me Mr. No Prints, I never leaves a clueIn and out the cut `fore you know who gettin who+Mysteries Unsolved+, that`s why you never seenthe one that they call Sicx, on yo` late night TV screenCall me Mr. No Prints, I never leaves a traceIn and out the cut with a ski-mask on my face25 to life, that`s not on my agenda That`s why I`m in and out before you have time to remember[Verse 2: C.O.S.]I let your blood spill, then chase the murder with some 8-balland never leave a trace, I`m in and up outta the cut soon as you fallLeave blood all over the walls, cause my massive blows to the domefrom the .44 chrome that was shown, but it ain`t no case cause the bodies all goneIn the trunk of the Chev`, about to get thrown up off the lidcause whoever in the crib won`t live when I kick through yo` door with some O.J. gloves hold onto my .44So call me Mr. No Prints -- cause I never leave no evidenceI kill off all the witnesess, then I vacate the premisesShit, that`s just another residence victim of them killasGettin hit up by that (?) Swartzanigga shitDon`t make me spill yo` bloodand I`m hittin the bud as soon as I see them brains go split-splatSee niggaz and bitches get left for dead and alla they kids get kidnappedPut a fresh (?) on our (?) cause we planned and plottedPremeditated then waited for the right time then we got `emShot through the do`, with the flag, hockey ski-mask on my faceCuz see, I just don`t give a fuck, as long as they can`t see us make our escapeAnd that`s just in case, by some slim chance we leave someone aliveThat`s why we in and up outta the cut so fast they can`t identify at allGettin high -- count up our dollars and our sinsThinkin about how easy it is to murder like this and leave no prints, nigga[Chorus: C.O.S.]So call me Mr. No Prints, I never leaves a clueIn and out the cut `fore you know who gettin who+Mysteries Unsolved+, that`s why you never seenthe one that they call C.O.S., on your TV screenCall me Mr. No Prints, I never leaves a traceIn and out the cut with a ski-mask on my face25 to life, that`s not on my agenda That`s why I`m in and out before you have time to remember[Verse 3: Tall Cann G]Call me Mr. 211 a.k.a. jack-yo-ass, 187 blastHit a nigga like stick`n`move, then dash on that assGettin away, wit a ski-mask on my faceIf there ain`t no description then there ain`t no fuckin caseFin` ta hit your block tight, with my Glock hidden up under my seatLet it pop `til you drop, `til you dead up in the streetGuts and meats all over the concrete, ain`t no time to sleepupon this nigga with this trigger love to swig that malt liquorCause I`m sick with that Olde English shit, heads gon` splitBlack chrome spit, `til you layin up in a ditchSo fuck your whole click, fill `em up with them 16 slugsKill `em up with that Siccness love - do or dieWho the fuck am I? - Tall Cann21st meet your worst nightmare, leave `em right thereBloody up in the mud, cause this nigga ain`t got no loveWear my gloves, cause I`m bouts to gets my hands dirtyGuts all over the place, face ready for plastic surgery

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