break ya loccs
Singer:brotha lynch hung
about to leave the studio it's 9-11
up in here wid my nigga c-o once again
and the motherfuckin' bad news is
i got that spit venom shit that'll wrinkle up ya denim shit
fuck them niggaz they all hoes i run up in them quick
twenty four deep and bring niggaz the bad news like
the metro section i spit petrol like gas nozzles
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
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
and i'll tell you somethin' else fool suspicion for life
have you comin' home from work late
and ya kids and ya cribs tore up
skin collector been connected
wid some niggaz that'll cut you in the neck and leave you butt naked
fryin' niggaz like they do out in texas
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
niggaz that say they real fake as fuck
have you left set up dead in a vacant lot
no matter what they can talk all that gangsta shit
if ya gangsta walk still ain't shit
i break ya loccs and run up in yo shit
look we roll shit blow shit
posted where they move bricks if it was me quick
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 fuck 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
gunshots to middle of they brain
duck cops from here to the gate
bust shots at all of them cops this shit be crazed
cause fuck 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
fuck it pour another shot of that vodka load up the chopper
i'm young black shit wid mack shit
in the back shit make 'em do back flips
you must be off that crack shit
fuckin' wid the tactics got spitz like a gat spit
and i'm gonna rip a nigga to bits for instance
i burn incense and think about shit
i don't need your ten cents juts break 'em right quick
you suck lug nuts ya love nuts i plug stuff
fuckin' wid flames around gas
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
let the nine milli cum in ya mouth
runnin' the south like cash money
i bang niggaz in the head you a crash dummy