X-caliba Lyrics - Brotha Lynch Hung

[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 

'cause 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 jacket at 

'cause 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 gage(the twenty gage) 

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've known the deal while you was givin out 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 em' a ditch, then take they 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 'cause I'ma cool ass mufucca 

Done delt witt 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 

off 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 

I mean Lift you out your sox 

Pay attention to the Clock 

Its like Half pass a niggas ass lay em in 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 

'cause I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up 

(X-caliba *echo*) 

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[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung] 

You can call me black Sadam Huseain 

Pump St Idees through my vein 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 

End up killen one of them motherfuckers 

So fuck them hoes, they like Grim 

havin killin niggas like they gots to go 

woke up at 3 am - got high til seven 

Jumped in my what you ma 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 ruffed n bucked away, then hit the plane 

15 guts on a tripple beam scale nigga 

acual contact from the strap that I hale nigga 

Photos 

[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 

'cause 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 they want 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 ma 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, 'cause of that 

My favorite cousin just go four years 

And when his little brotha died he showed me no tears 

your point is shit 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 

'cause I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up 

(X-caliba *echo*)