Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung - One Mo Pound, слова песни Brotha Lynch Hung

Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung - One Mo Pound

Brotha Lynch Hung - One Mo Pound слова песни

I was rollin` through the hood one dayThought shit den calmed down, "Gang-bangin`" den played out by the years since I den been aroundAin`t talked to nobody from my blockCause all my niggas is locked upAnd it`s been all ever I seen wit a guillotineSo I was in the "Cut Supreme"Fifteen grams and some "greenodine"Ain`t seen a block nigga sinceBut now I`m off that kill green(Mothtafuckas ain`t got no love for me)(Niggas wanna put some slugs in me)So I`m double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my three fifty sevenBrotha Lynch Hung, but the bitches call me KevinThey try to make me think they close to me, but Neb`in [never]You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for alibisAnd the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain`t minecause mine`s a supe` desguiseAs I swoop the skies high off that buddhatah mixed the cusche and the purple hairsAnd it got me high(Now I`m rollin on the river) Labeled Mr. FedEx (Cause them bodies I deliver)Got to get to my next plotUnlock the freezer get the meat for the "rocks" [rotweilers]And heat the heat cause it`s the "nine-neb`in" [`97]and it`s hot den a mothafucka(All day everyday) I`mma stay loaded up, "krondike" in the trunkAnd a pound full of James Brown Cause I gots to get loaded so hold up soldier[Chorus: 2Xs]The count goes(One more pound of smoke and it`s guaranteed to make a mothafucka choke)(Ain`t got no down ass bitch at my side but I got some bomb ass weed in my ride) Nothin but notches, booches Fill my pockets, hit `em up everyday, gotta have my payThe gaungay got me high now I`m paranoida den these boochesFilthy rich, I`mma take the lootAnd the dig a ditch, tell your neighborhood bitchto miss me with that hoe shitCause I`mma get this nigga when he surfaceAnd that`s on everything I love, I gots to split his wigOpened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacketRib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic shells Send him to hell express from his mailing address We got his name, for sho`, then we went to the house and did that shitI know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood knewsomebody betta jack his ass up like a six-four impalaYou floatin` on dirty waterPack your shit up nigga like it`s on only you and your ?woda-goda?Track your ass down, smoke your last pound[Chorus 2Xs](If you smell any smoke it`s just me and my homies gettin` blown)And I was late gettin` home, intoxicated Fight with my old ladyshe was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now she`s animatedMotivate through you like a foggy mistYou can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hitFirst Degree told me if the weed can tossIt`ll talk some shit, gotta get me an underspotmake me a Hemp Museum like B-LegitI`m tryin to bump my head on the moonLive so high up in the mountains eatin` snake meat, fried raccoons With a attitude I need food to eat upsmoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet upTop notch program, DOS mode indo 95 upgrade siccmade Stay paid til the day on the ground, I`mma lay, I`mma stay loaded upIn my trunk I got the blow you up and it`ll blow you upAnd the count goes[Brotha Lynch Hung sends out shout outs til the end]

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Brotha Lynch Hung

One Mo Pound

Текст песни Brotha Lynch Hung - One Mo Pound

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