X-Caliba

[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung] That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up (X-caliba *echo*) [Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung] It all started when I twisted the lid of the Olde E And see E-A-R-double-O-E... ... ... (??) Where my motherfuckering siccmade jacked at Cuz that's the only one I could use When I saw you at the war yeah when I lifted you out your shoes It was the pressure from the twenty game (the twenty game) Felt like it could split your chest whide open wit it Well nigga you should when I'm round talkin that shit Bout the nigga that's my kin-folks Should knew the wheel while you was givin up that info... ...mation, I'll be of that Parry Mason When I hit em all up, creep em all up, kill em all up, fill em all up Real deal, dig a ditch give em hit a licc then take the grip Put em in the back of the Cadillac show em how my Mini-Mac gonna act My tactics is lethal Leave the whole town hella smokey Like that band that steppin over dead people It's like that, and you wouldn't know it cuz I'ma cool ass mufucca Then dump on a gang of succas As I wait for the city to heat up like a Hot Pepper Gotta whole load fulla Evian And a trunck fulla FO take no's and I can't let go Catch you at yo show slippin Hoes trippin, rows rippin in the street after I heat my heat of I'm of the hook with this siccmade shit, straight made nigga Fuck it, pass me the straight lace liquor to the face nigga Off the Thunder Burger and Kool-Aid and O 8 Easy on the liver still make me kill a nigga Split you head like a pineapple Die natural! Five at your dome send em home in a pinebox Lift you out your sox Pay attention to the Glock Half pass a niggas ass where aimen at the grass take suitcase fulla cash and mash 16 in the clip crumble the urb roll a sliff bout to whatch you brain split in half Bloody bath watter, infried nigga nuts and bones locaded at home I think him name is Tyrone But you know... [Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung] That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up (X-caliba *echo*) [Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung] You can call me black Sadam Huseain Pump St Idees through my wein ass nigga You can see me on the southside of the street Man remembered by the ((opposet)) nigga that flod the city Get ready for some pretty if you sicc like Frank Nitty Sucked blood from my momas tittie - instead of milk Played murda muzicc in my tape deck - instead of Silkk Enden up killen one of them motherfuckers So fuck them hoes, they like Grim Havin killin niggas like they gots to go With the 380M - got high til seven Jump in what you call it headin throughwards heaven, whit my 50 sacc of some shit, that'll make you get there About 11:30 with your T-shirt dirty I'm worthy strapped like James as ventured in this faulty game In a mainframe, that I bucked in ruff terrain, then hit the plane 15 guts on a tripple beam scale nigga Acual contact from the strap that I hale nigga [Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung] That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up (X-caliba *echo*) [Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung] They got this motherfucker twisted up And from the sound of the barrle I got hella motherfuckers runnin up What should I do about these fuckin fleas? Give em all A-1 and put they seeds in they weed Figga a way out this nigga I know you got me in file But I got you on scanner so plan anotha way (anotha way) Told me it was (?Coda steady?) But I catch you slippin like pimpin And shake bankin like (?Trail Leonard?) Hit your mind workin these swine Tripp time get's deepa as you meat the Grim reapa In the form of a man double M 24 5 got your brains leaking I'm peakin That's why these nigga wanna rip keep me I'm rollin squeeky and what you want call it Witta .45 in my pocket and I'm a young alcoholic Like P-Folks I had to make it happen Sacramentos most wanted I gotta keep packin, cuz of that My favorite cousin just go four years And when his little brotha died he showed me no tears Your point is you get deep as the ocean Take a shiesty niggas blood and rub it on like lotion It was like: once apon a time a long time ago I was sticken 9 milis in a pussy hole Get of the Ol 8 old Murda moe then i gotta go to a spot When they don't know I'm the leath nigga given up my info [Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung] That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up (X-caliba *echo*)