Teksty piosenek Brotha Lynch Hung

Brotha Lynch Hung

Suicide Watch

Suicide watch...

Yeah, I'm in a all black khaki suit

In an all black room feeling like I'm in the back of the room

And I'm strapped to something that's like, out of a movie,

That's cool. Kill like I'm in a Dracula movie

That's too practical, did a tactical movement

Next thing you know I was loose and I was moving

Brotha Lynch Hung go through the jungle, wit' a machete and I hunt those, then I cut throat

I don't know what's happening maybe I'm blacking out

Killing everybody in sight then smashing out

Murder date nigga go head ask 'em out

Coathanga Strangla nigga ask about him

Like J-Lo.... Oh ass is out

Anybody will tell ya' that nigga's a acid mouth

I will never lose, I'm cruising past your house

I'mma start chewing his meat if he's as I'm out?

Hit me wit the .50 - get your brains blasted

Carry me a Billy the Kid and that's plastic

Buried nigga, hid in the crib, and that's-that's it

I be on some dumping the dead niggas in caskets

Do it for the bi-bi uh chop chop

Do it for the bitches, tch-tch-tch, slash em'

I get all up in a nigga head, aspirin

I could get a nigga shot in the head, ask 'em

Orville Redenbacher, nigga I'll pop ya'

Tore his head like cotton, go need the doctor

Call the coroner, leavin' him in a corner

Called his boys up, they gon' be looking for him

Put these toys up, disappear in the morning

Eat these boys up, it was a little boring

Shit his prime guts, I'm nuts, I'm sick

I must consider Your Highness, bitch

Suicide watch...

Yeah boy, got my mind on the milli

Hand gripped tight on the milla

Finger on the trigga', and you fucking wit' a straight guerilla

Dominate the enemy tremendously, and leave em' wit' his face on the pillow

Reppin' MadeSicc nigga, they don't really want it

If you want it come get it

Come wit' it I'm a spit it, from the start to the finish

Wit' no fault or pretending, hit all in yo' mouth like a dentist

(Is it the siccness!?)

They got a nigga all in it to win it, busta better pardon my Cripness'

Put you on my hit list

And just bring a witness to the lyrical massacre of these bitches

Played a part in inventing this

Cut, slice, dice, chop, beef scrambled up, test and cook syrup

Nigga, 'cause I'm a hit em' wit'

Right, left, punch, uppercut, then throw pronouns and verbs

And many other words, I'm like a Thunderbird

I mean a Thundercat, that's just the way I act

I put em' on their back and that's a known fact

I leave their motherfucking sound and their line flat

You wanna habitat, where them G's at?

I flip it like a mat and light it like a match

Freddy Krueger Luda, wit' a Ruger on his lap

Poom, pang, ping, kill a dream like that

So where my niggas, yo? And where the bitches go?

We paint a pretty picture from the ceiling to the flo'

We tear the club up, been done fucked the streets though

If you really want it all you gotta' do is let me know

You fucking wit' my brotha Lynch I'm busting Calicos *gunshot*

I creep up on you, you don't wanna give you mo'

Hotter than the sun, colder than an Eskimo

Blap at 'em wit' the 4"

And have 'em yelling Geronimo!

Suicide watch...