Break Ya Loccs

[Lynch Talking] About to leave the studio it's 9-11, 2002 Up in here wid my nigga C-O once again Ya know what I'm sayin? And the motherfuckin' bad news is What? Suspicion is back Ya know, here we go [Brotha Lynch Hung] I got that spit venom shit that'll wrinkle up ya denim shit Fuck them niggas they all hoes I run up in them quick Turn 'em into statues, lead tattoos I stay Twenty four deep and bring niggas the bad news like The Metro Section I spit petrol like gas nozzles Bang wid my thangs nigga, 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 niggas 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 niggas that'll cut you in the neck and leave you butt naked Layin' dead in ya Lexus, what you doing? Fryin' niggas like they do out in Texas, Why? Lyin' to niggas 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] Niggas 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 (x2) [Suspicion] Look we roll shit blow shit, I been blue shit Old shit new shit, keep it true shit Always in a blue fit, and old school kicks Posted where they move bricks if it was me quick I sold shit stole shit, I had to move shit Old shit new shit, 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 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 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 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, dealin' wid drama Fuck it pour another shot of that Vodka load up the chopper Hook (x2) [Brotha Lynch Hung] 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 (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, fuckin' 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 niggas in the head you a crash dummy I mash niggas Hook (x2)