D.o.a. Lyrics - Dinner & A Movie - Brotha Lynch Hung

Mr. Mannibalector 

It's all over the news right now 

You couldn't have missed it 

Do you have any idea what might have happened to him? 

Any idea at all? 

Everybody thinks you do 

Not me, but lots of people do 

Tell me what happened 

(He died a violent death) 

[- Brotha Lynch Hung] He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' 

I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

Give him a enema then I'mma send him a endin' 

Ten of the men is the minimum, I eat ten of the 

Tick tock on the clock taking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

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Yeah, I don't do it to get famous 

Somethin' 'bout the brain is aimless, body where the stain is (Right there!) 

I'mma be in the 6-4, a skitzo 

Talk another language, I may miss, ya brain split 

I'mma commit the hit flow til the shit blow, this the fo' 

Gangin' and bangin' 

Lay in the playpen with the stainless 

Put his brain in my apron, then I'm escapin' 

Staple his legs, when I get the okay I'm tapin' his legs 

When I get the dope, hey I'm breakin' his legs 

Want an omelet? Betta be breakin' some eggs 

Duck when the bomb hit, they finna pay 

Smoke when the bomb lit 

They finna pass it or they get the acid 

I'm bakin' that ass quick, rapin' that ass quick 

Rhymes sound like I be takin' the acid 

Photos 

[- Brotha Lynch Hung] He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' 

I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

Give him a enigma then I'mma send him a endin' 

Ten of the men is a minimum, I eat then of the 

Tick tock from the clock ticking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

Maybe, the reason that you're so paranoid 

Is cause you smoke so much fuckin' marijuana? 

Wouldn't you think? 

I don't know, I just spit that shit like I do coke (You do coke?) 

I do hope, you get this shit quick cause Spydie's broke (Spydie's broke?) 

I do choke, I got shit that rip that Chinese dope 

I do low, I got Crip shit in me like Tiny Loc 

I ain't active, my nine-millimeter make niggas do back-flips 

And I'mma get with 'em with minimum practice 

Then I'mma just hit 'em with a little gymnastics 

My heat is plastic, I beat the bastard, I eat that ass quick 

For dinner, the winner get me, I'm acid 

And I don't have to be the nigga that spit it the fastest 

Mr. NASA, A.S.A.P. give me my cashes 

Muhammad Ali niggas whippin' they asses 

Frizz was alive he'd be beatin' their asses (Rest in peace!) 

I leak molasses, couldn't see me with 24 pairs of glasses 

You ain't the only one that got goons 

Shit that'll bloody up rooms, rips that'll bloody up shoes 

Hop the 6-4, pop the pistols 

And I can get close, enough to hit those 

Rock that, split those 

She talk a good talk, so walk a good walk 

Get up and let's go, it's the Mr. Piston 

It's the sickest, this is 

Get ya kids quick, take 'em and rape 'em 

It's the sickness, take 'em and bake 'em 

[- Brotha Lynch Hung] He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' 

I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

Give him a enema then I'mma send him a endin' 

Ten of the men is a minimum, I eat then of the 

Tick tock on the clock taking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

It's quite obvious that people are addicted to your sickness 

And they all seem to be emulating you 

Perhaps you should do something about that? 

I just know, niggas couldn't see me with a telescope 

I just hope, you tell 'em Lynch Hung comin' 

So tell his ho (Tell his ho!) 

Tell this ho, I got thick dick bitch, so smell this dope 

I mean sniff this coke, it's terrific shit, drips out his nose 

Shit, I don't need this, I carry a machete and I rip the cleavage 

I carry 'em, I bury 'em 

I'm leavin' 'em deep-6 

"Marion the Barbarian" when I grind the teeth, grit 

I prefer a deep-dish, I'mma be hidin' behind 'em with the meat-cleaver 

Momma be cryin', I fry him with the heat-seeker 

Prolly be tryin', I'm coming with the heat, eat shit 

Peter Parker, a.k.a. Coat-hanga' Strangla' 

They may pray, but the Lynch is hangin' her 

After she's dead, Lynch Hung is bangin' guts (Strange!) 

Ain't no tamin' us 

We get your brains and your veins, and bring 'em with us 

Get a tat and bang it with us 

One thang we insane and bringin' it up 

My tongue hang when I'm aimin', aim at the guts 

Nigga loc'd to the brain, wrapped all into one 

Hotdog ass niggas get wrapped in a bun 

Tongue slit, neck, brains hangin' wit Hung 

The real sickness is back, so get it and run 

I'mma get this shit intact, when I aim it, it's done 

I'mma get this shit in fact, when I aim it, it's done 

Sickness, get ya dick split 

[- Brotha Lynch Hung] He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' 

I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

Give him a enema then I'mma send him a endin' 

Ten of the men is a minimum, I eat then of the 

Tick-tock on the clock taking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) 

I can't control my own mind, my mind 

(Is that so?) 

Is uncontrollable 

(Well, just keep coming back and we'll figure it all out) 

That's all the answers I can give you 

(Don't worry too much) 

That's all the answers I can give you 

(All right, I'll see you tomorrow)