Deep Down Lyrics - Singles - Brotha Lynch Hung

[Brotha Lynch] 

Yeah I could load a 9 up everyday, but why 

My locc's told me homie make them tapes 

And keep that 24 block alive 

But if I feel I'm in need, I got's to ride 

Carry a 9 for straight business, not just a side 

Man it's the night-mare, creepin up in the cut 

I'm hittin dice games, barbeques, no matter what 

The things I've seen'll make ya throw up 

Flaunt your flag, shoot your gats, hit your dank 

Where I'm from that's how ya grow up 

Man it's that wicked and 9 millimeter 

Carrier bein stereo-typed daily 

Ya got's to feel me, foo it's that baby 

Killas run around everyday that's why I'm strapped 

Ya heard it I got my own back-fade 

Out into the 'lac and hit the city of Sac 

Them homies given me that 

But you got them fools that want a foe then 

They wonderin why I'm carryin me a 12 gauge pump 

Man I ain't no punk 

The average everyday thug that's how it sounds 

I'm defendin myself, and loadin that mili 

And leaving em layin 

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[Chorus] X 4 

Deep down, there's a place for hope 

[Mr. Doctor] 

I guess it's hard to explain why I'm feelin how I'm feelin 

I guess I'm feelin sorrow cus my homies got some stealin 

And foos would say that it's my fault I bet 

See cus I wasn't strapped yo, but I can't f**k my set 

How could I know that them foos would blast? 

Later on, on my folks 

It's funny how this bangin's got its different strokes 

I think about my loccs and how they made it 

Though I'm stressin from the fact 

Photos 

They gotta suffer from a bullet hole 

And Mr. Doctor just don't have hope locc 

It's only been a month, since my last down partner got smoked 

And rivals is deep, up in my city foo 

Since I'm on the underground team, I can't have no peace 

My life is tore up so I guess I'm stuck 

Yeah, I got my St. Ides, I'm turnin it up 

To get drunk, then I post up on the street 

While I say to myself, for the block 

Homie rest in peace 

[Chorus] X 4 

[Brotha Lynch] 

They say that ain't the way to handle that type funk 

But now I'm loadin up the strap, smokin on that blunt 

Just cus the Brotha Hung is flag-up 

What that mean, I can't ride? 

Why G's up in my face, I'm bout to help them ride 

I keep a low pro, drink the 4-0 

And lounge until it's time to go 

Shinin up the forty-fo 

Rollin up the boogey-boo, indo 

And hopin if I should die, before I'm high 

That they bury me in 50 pounds of chocolate thai 

I got them homies from the south-side givin it up and 

Them homies from the east-side slangin that stuff and 

I'm right up in the middle tryin to hang on and 

Tryin not to end up like them niggas doin time in the pen 

But then again 

I'm down for when the homies is ready to roll em up 

You know, stick in a dark-blue cut 

And as I'm creepin through ya set 

Trip, don't get caught up, shot up 

The gardenblock locc's, man we leave em layin 

[Chorus] X 4