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Now Eat: The Album

Genres: Hip-Hop
Total songs: 1
Year: 2000

List songs in album

  1. The Corpse Came To Dinner

The Corpse Came To Dinner Lyrics - Now Eat: The Album - Brotha Lynch Hung

[Verse 1] 

It's a must that I bust any strap ya hand ta me 

It's inherited, it runs in the family 

Niggaz in the town got pounds of beef 

Threaten a niggaz life, make it sound so sweet 

I peel 'em back like corn-on-the-cob, cap peel 'em 

Make 'em sound like a whore on the job 

Witta Mac in the backpack, fulla that crack sack 

Gettin' it off (Better have my muthafuckin money) 

Bitch where my siccmade 'til I die shit, nobody saw 

So I was able ta wipe the blood off the hallway walls 

Ain't got nothin ta live for 

Can't even trust a bitch, might have ta leave her alone 

Ma had ta dig a ditch, shit so rigorous 

Dealin' wit hataz, snitchaz, and bitchaz, get they brains gone 

Find a new home, you one life is gone 

Cuz I'm O-One, check the clock 

And if these walls could talk, muthafuckaz'll be shot 

I'm about ta go 51-50, got nobody wit me 

Stressed out like Whitney, Bobby Brown, weed and whiskey 

Smokin' Newports, no support 

But like Too Short I keep it goin' 

Shootin' up forts, who in this sport wanna fuck wit me 

Come on the court, rippin' out insides 

Puttin' stains on thangs, that's when I rip-ride 

And I slip-slide through the Gardens witta bloody t-shirt, it won't hurt 

Look at this way, 6 feet deep in the dirt won't hurt 

Flirtin' wit murda, I leave 'em unheard of 

And I'm sicca than period pads drippin' 

All over your hands gettin' 

The back seat or the trunk, it's your choice 

Dead or alive, smothered and fried 

The way you better uncover your eyes, I'm in the skies 

Witta 9 tryin' ta take out your spine 

Nobody know crime, throw up that sicc sign 

And strike hard like stricc-nine 

No recovery, you other G niggaz betta duck 

Leave you in the tuc stuck 

Psycho, off the wall like Michael 

Always paranoid cuz I be blowin' out that nitro 

All day, every day, murda spray, got you in Glad Bags 

Headed for the pad, and you can ask my dad 

I was a scavenger, 14 years old eatin' scabs 

Graduated ta nigga meat, but I don't wanna brag 

Fuck Jeffry Dohmer, he a muthafuckin fag 

I got nigga nuts and guts in the bag, draggin' 'em ta the pad 

 

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[Chorus] 

(Corpse came ta dinner) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

(Corpse came ta dinner) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

(Corpse came ta dinner) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

(Corpse came ta dinner) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

 

Photos 

 

[Verse 2] 

Fuck under the influence, I'm hella fucked up 

Swervin' down the freeway, spillin' my cup 

Tryin' take you out this rap on the Underbelly 

He ain't shit, he 'bout ta be in the trunk smelly 

By me and my Relly, you never know 

Whatever tho, I got auto magazines and that weak intro 

What you got against me? 

Don't you know I rip niggaz up, turn 'em ta minced meat 

Well if you got some sense, beat it, like raw eggs 

I used ta have hella homies, now they all hate 

But I'ma leave it alone, I'm on my own like a voodoo nigga 

If a nigga want ta get ate, what would you do nigga 

I was too cool wit 'em, group of niggaz and they tripped on me 

Gave 'em a little bit of fame, then they dipped on me 

But you know, it's all in the game, tell the crip homie 

Ta hit 'em witta slug in the brain, that's what you get from me 

Crash dummy, your careers defected 

And you ain't sold a record last time I checked it 

You just keep knockin', I feel disrespected 

Now your neck got disconnected by the Lynch Hung necklace 

Hey, I leave 'em red, and I don't eat the head 

Let the Tec spit and chop niggaz down ta the ground like Judge Dread 

Come up in the door lookin' just like a fed 

And you call yourself a rap vet 

Get out the bed, and let me fuck her like she should be fucked 

All in the butt, wit the 9 milly, swallowin' nut 

And you see me in black clothes, creepin' from the back 

Don't know how ta act, black blankets fulla Mac's 

I use 'em for nutsacks and full body sacks 

Better not let your daughter out, end up in the slaughter house 

Chokin' and spittin', chest open and bleedin' 

And me fuckin' her from the back, and I hope for you ta see it 

 

[Chorus] 

(Corpse came ta dinner) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

(Corpse came ta dinner) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

(Hey Folks, open the door nigga) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

(Nah, nah, open the trunk) 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask 

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