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Brotha Lynch Hung - Break Ya Loccs lyrics
[Lynch Talking] About to leave the studio it's 9-11, 2002 Up in here wid my nigga C-O once again Ya know what I'm sayin? And the motherfuckin' bad news is What? Suspicion is back Ya know, here we go [Brotha Lynch Hung] I got that spit venom shit that'll wrinkle up ya denim shit Fuck them niggaz they all hoes I run up in them quick Turn 'em into statues, lead tattoos I stay Twenty four deep and bring niggaz the bad news like The Metro Section I spit petrol like gas nozzles Bang wid my thangs nigga, you the last models From the Garden to the creep module I'm off the bottle makin' money like I won the lotto You wanna follow wid ya tongue stickin' out ready to lick these nuts Had a dream watchin' me get out the four door to get these guts I spit flames, beat niggaz like Rick James get aim Cause like Pac's attraction I grip thangs And it's hard and cold it'll make ya heart a cold I sweat so much I'm so hot, I'm hard to hold And I'll tell you somethin' else fool Suspicion for life Have you comin' home from work late, missin' ya wife And ya kids and ya cribs tore up, I leave ya ribs tore up Nuttin' else better I do, than cut up cold cuts I'm a meat eatin', skin collector been connected Wid some niggaz that'll cut you in the neck and leave you butt naked Layin' dead in ya Lexus, what you doing? Fryin' niggaz like they do out in Texas, Why? Lyin' to niggaz cause they fakin' the love You be the one takin' the slug And you show me that you ain't got no love for me I'm done cuz [Hook] Niggaz that say they real fake as fuck Have you left set up dead in a vacant lot No matter what they can talk all that gang |
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