lirik lagu brotha lynch hung - one mo pound
brotha lynch hung
miscellaneous
one mo pound
i was rollin’ through the hood one day
thought sh-t den calmed down,
“gang-bangin'” den played out by the years since i den been around
ain’t talked to n-body from my block
cause all my n-gg-s is locked up
and it’s been all ever i seen wit a guillotine
so i was in the “cut supreme”
fifteen grams and some “greenodine”
ain’t seen a block n-gg- since
but now i’m off that kill green
(mothtaf-ckas ain’t got no love for me)
(n-gg-s wanna put some slugs in me)
so i’m double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my three fifty seven
brotha lynch hung, but the b-tches call me kevin
they try to make me think they close to me, but neb’in [never]
you know i gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for alibis
and the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain’t mine
cause mine’s a supe’ desguise
as i swoop the skies high off that buddha
tah mixed the cusche and the purple hairs
and it got me high
(now i’m rollin on the river)
labeled mr. fedex
(cause them bodies i deliver)
got to get to my next plot
unlock the freezer get the meat for the “rocks” [rotweilers]
and heat the heat cause it’s the “nine-neb’in” [’97]
and it’s hot den a mothaf-cka
(all day everyday) i’mma stay loaded up, “krondike” in the trunk
and a pound full of james brown
cause i gots to get loaded so hold up soldier
[chorus: 2xs]
the count goes
(one more pound of smoke and it’s guaranteed to make a mothaf-cka choke)
(ain’t got no down -ss b-tch at my side
but i got some bomb -ss weed in my ride)
nothin but notches, booches
fill my pockets, hit ’em up everyday, gotta have my pay
the gaungay got me high now i’m paranoida den these booches
filthy rich, i’mma take the loot
and the dig a ditch, tell your neighborhood b-tch
to miss me with that hoe sh-t
cause i’mma get this n-gg- when he surface
and that’s on everything i love, i gots to split his wig
opened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacket
rib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic sh-lls
send him to h-ll express from his mailing address
we got his name, for sho’, then we went to the house and did that sh-t
i know i said i do it alone in the p-ss, everybody in the neighborhood knew
somebody betta jack his -ss up like a six-four impala
you floatin’ on dirty water
pack your sh-t up n-gg- like it’s on only you and your? woda-goda?
track your -ss down, smoke your last pound
[chorus 2xs]
(if you smell any smoke it’s just me and my homies gettin’ blown)
and i was late gettin’ home, intoxicated
fight with my old lady
she was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now she’s animated
motivate through you like a foggy mist
you can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hit
first degree told me if the weed can toss
it’ll talk some sh-t, gotta get me an underspot
make me a hemp museum like b-legit
i’m tryin to b-mp my head on the moon
live so high up in the mountains eatin’ snake meat, fried racc–ns
with a att-tude i need food to eat up
smoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet up
top notch program, dos mode indo 95 upgrade siccmade
stay paid til the day on the ground, i’mma lay, i’mma stay loaded up
in my trunk i got the blow you up and it’ll blow you up
and the count goes
[brotha lynch hung sends out shout outs til the end]
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