Real Loccs-Brotha Lynch Hung

歌手 : Brotha Lynch Hung

专辑 : Season Of Da Siccness The

语种 : 英语

时长 : 04:15

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TXT Real Loccs-Brotha Lynch Hung 文本歌词

Real Loccs - Brotha Lynch Hung

(feat. Suspicion)

(Lynch Talking)

About to leave the studio it's 9-11, 2002

Up in here wid my ni**a C-O once again

Ya know what I'm sayin?

And the motherf**kin' bad news is

What? Suspicion is back

Ya know, here we go

(Brotha Lynch Hung)

I got that spit venom sh*t that'll wrinkle up ya denim sh*t

F**k them niggaz they all hoes I run up in them quick

Turn 'em into statues, lead tattoos I stay

Twenty four deep and bring niggaz the bad news like

The Metro Section I spit petrol like gas nozzles

Bang wid my thangs ni**a, you the last models

From the Garden to the creep module

I'm off the bottle makin' money like I won the lotto

You wanna follow wid ya tongue stickin' out ready to lick these nuts

Had a dream watchin' me get out the four door to get these guts

I spit flames, beat niggaz like Rick James get aim

Cause like Pac's attraction I grip thangs

And it's hard and cold it'll make ya heart a cold

I sweat so much I'm so hot, I'm hard to hold

And I'll tell you somethin' else fool Suspicion for life

Have you comin' home from work late, missin' ya wife

And ya kids and ya cribs tore up, I leave ya ribs tore up

Nuttin' else better I do, than cut up cold cuts

I'm a meat eatin', skin collector been connected

Wid some niggaz that'll cut you in the neck and leave you butt naked

Layin' dead in ya Lexus, what you doing?

Fryin' niggaz like they do out in Texas, Why?

Lyin' to niggaz cause they fakin' the love

You be the one takin' the slug

And you show me that you ain't got no love for me I'm done cuz

(Hook)

Niggaz that say they real fake as f**k

Have you left set up dead in a vacant lot

No matter what they can talk all that gangsta sh*t

If ya gangsta walk still ain't sh*t

I break ya loccs and run up in yO sh*t

(x2)

(Suspicion)

Look we roll sh*t blow sh*t, I been blue sh*t

Old sh*t new sh*t, keep it true sh*t

Always in a blue fit, and old school kicks

Posted where they move bricks if it was me quick

I sold sh*t stole sh*t, I had to move sh*t

Old sh*t new sh*t, to keep a few chips

Man my life wasn't nothin' sweet

At fifteen years old was livin' out on the street

With rocks between my teeth like where the f**k I'm gon' sleep

Grandmomma don't want me and I ain't seen dad for weeks

And momma ain't never been there for me

It's like she probably never cared to shed a tear for me

So now the whole world's like a glare to me

Through all these hard times can barely see prepared to leave

But I dare one of these cats wid no haps for they fame

This rap's for the tracks yeh they wack but they flames

Tryna dirty up my name, I leave 'em stained

Gunshots to middle of they brain, I leave 'em drained

Duck cops from here to the gate, I leave 'em dazed

Bust shots at all of them cops this sh*t be crazed

Cause f**k goin' back to that place I take the grave

Whether you see me go out ridin' or as a slave

Just look at how they got us, dealin' wid drama

F**k it pour another shot of that Vodka load up the chopper

(Hook x2)

(Brotha Lynch Hung)

I'm young black sh*t wid mack sh*t

In the back sh*t make 'em do back flips

You must be off that crack sh*t

F**kin' wid the tactics got spitz like a gat spit

And I'm gonna rip a ni**a to bits for instance

I burn incense and think about sh*t

I don't need your ten cents juts break 'em right quick (then what?)

Shake 'em right quick (then what?), make 'em bite dick

You suck lug nuts ya love nuts I plug stuff, cut guts up

Ya tough luck punk, f**kin' wid flames around gas

Heat, enough heat to cook ya turkey fried deep like

Louisiana blow sacks like Santana might

Run up in ya spot with the dark blue bandana right

Wid banana clips takin' you out, run in ya house

Let the nine milli cum in ya mouth

Runnin' the South like Cash Money

I bang niggaz in the head you a crash dummy

I mash niggaz

(Hook x2)