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Brotha Lynch Hung




Альбом Brotha Lynch Hung


Blocc Movement (2001)
2001
1.
Intro
2.
Gangsta (Fuck A Hoe) (feat. Kam)
3.
Follow My Lead (feat. Cos and Killa Tay)
4.
Flippin' Chiccens (performed by C-Bo)
5.
187 On A Hook (feat. Tech N9ne)
6.
The Watcher (performed by Brotha Lynch Hung)
7.
We All Thug (performed by Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Cos and Tall Can))
8.
187 On 24th Street (performed by Brotha Lynch Hung)
9.
Drunken Style (performed by Brotha Lynch Hung)
10.
Dedication (performed by C-Bo)
11.
Divide (feat. Cos and Phats Bossi)
12.
There It Is (performed by Brotha Lynch Hung)
13.
Down At The Court House (Skit)
14.
Money, Power, Respect (performed by C-Bo (feat. Spider Loc))
15.
The Plot (performed by Brotha Lynch Hung (feat. Zigg Zagg))
16.
Where's My Checc? (Skit)
17.
My Papers (performed by Brotha Lynch Hung)
18.
Kicc The Door In (Skit)
19.
Don't Stop (feat. Spice 1 and Yukmouth)
20.
Outro
. . .

Intro

[Нет текста]

. . .

Gangsta (Fuck A Hoe)

[Нет текста]

. . .

Follow My Lead

[Нет текста]

. . .

Flippin' Chiccens

[Нет текста]

. . .


Its 187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play Its 187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play

Buck these niggas im a killa sreaming regime deep navis wit heat like the A team and when my K scream its causing nothing but murder bucking these niggas making hate me
Yeah nigga we don't give a f**k nigga we thug lords connected from tech n9ne and touched for the thug war whose got love for these niggas wit no love at all give a f**k guns clutched only left a ball I know you heard of me wanna murder me cause im the nigga that cooked the bird ?? In the kitchen moms itchin had the whole gang unwrapping chickens nigga and we was headed for the jack strapped wit a fat gat all my niggas down to rat tat tat tat west coast bad boys we was yelling now west coast mafia regime and thug zellin nigga

187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play Its 187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play

Try to get me for my scratch and you get your arm detached if you try to rip me on a track I put you in a ziploc napsack believe it I get glocks at that price im like martini and rossi Austispumante alright niggas that kill em up on sight killa nigga night something wit tinted widows dumpin at you hit dump compliments of south sacramento you could ask lil zar or big zow im a monster I keep long gats like charles bronson and im on some put you in the trunk all f**ked up and lonesome its gon come armageddon nigga my arms is sweating cause I been busting them model thangs see im good with the weapon plus I really don't like you nigga you whole crew cant bust and I felt that shit way back when you was down wit us clown wit us used to smoke a pound wit us now im bound to cut you and your homies up nobody even heard your stuff said its 187 187 me and C-Bo and Tech N9ne on your bunker bunking wit a mac 11

187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play Its 187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play

Nigga to catch this nigga im ready to peel one instead of the shoulders I gotta diss toward a niggas grill some vigalantee and villigan regime niggas come wit steel guns get ready to sleep cause you tripped when you f**k wit a villian which one of yall motherf**kers said f**k Tech N9ne shady Pacino turned C-hoe when I clutched that n9ne me and my nigga C-Bo Yuk mezzole not only bust that rhyme we can do it illegal so the evil'll give a f**k next time nigga don't you ever spit my name cha and thinking that shits the same cha two thou we switched the game and spit the flame wah Allah oh akbar Is what I say before I buck ya motherf**k busters like vell bakardy yeah nigga had enough ya get ready to suffer kneel down nigga Tech N9ne Killa Klown nigga six feet underground is where your found nigga 40 water would never did a song witcha if he knew the song was about me never make a million next time say my name say my name like destinys children bitch

Its 187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play Its 187 on a motherf**king hook niggas out of bounds should have shook we banging by the book got shot in the neck trying to get away and to a vigi it aint nothing but gun play

. . .

The Watcher

[Нет текста]

. . .

We All Thug

[Нет текста]

. . .


(Chorus)
There Was A 187 on 24th Street
There was a 187 on 24th Street(Did You Know?)
There was a 187 on 24th Street
See you can get your mind tore up fuckin' wit us
We let straps bust X2

(Verse:1)
21st, 24th, and 29th Florin Road to Meadowview just to say a few
Everynight I use to walk down the street drunk with a bottle in my strap
'Cuz Blocc niggaz don't sock niggaz they shoot niggaz in the bacc
Why you ain't lookin' you livin' get tooken
Run up in your living room wit choppas tryin' to take out your parntas
It's a fuck up interlude(Interlude)
I was only 17 with a dream in this scene
Appaenetly the gangstas took me under
No wonder it must've been a gangbang-thang-and-a-slang-cane-gang
Got to mantain brain on you roaches like dirty poaches
I mean leave you in the gang even if you broke shit
I don't give a fuck
Put the quarter in the slot and play the game until I see what I got
I let straps pop if I got too cuz the streets is hot too
So I bop fools ever understood 'em even understand 'em and no not too
Down for half 'em bandits so I ran it the away i had too
Met him in the park after dark and it took less then a second for the nine to spark

(Chorus)
There Was A 187 on 24th Street
There was a 187 on 24th Street(Did You Know?)
There was a 187 on 24th Street
See you can get your mind tore up fuckin' wit us
We let straps bust X2

(Verse:2)
See it's drastic put your body all in plastic
We drag shit to the river and deliver your ass quick
We all was bad kids didn't even like each other that much
All we did was mean mug and put that nine on the clutch niggaz can get touch
We touchin' 'em up like jeri curls every girl was trippin'
We rip'em to the levy wit'em ????
Like Earl the Pearl don't miss to often in a coffin
Yeah thats your new world we keep'em popin automatics be knoccin'
Garden Blocc cuz we the hardest on the streets
Jocc Cd's like rocc on the street
We ridin your shit cuz and lovin you for it
And you can't ingore it that rip shit
That put you in the trunk hald-dead wit your wig split shit
We live that shit every day all day every chance we get
And in the backyard we got pit that eat raw meat ant tib bits we just as sicc
I don't give a fuck
Put the quarter in the slot and play the game until I see what I got
I let gat's pop

(Chorus)
There Was A 187 on 24th Street
There was a 187 on 24th Street(Did You Know?)
There was a 187 on 24th Street
See you can get your mind tore up fuckin' wit us
We let straps bust X2

(Verse:3)
I look in your face and see nothing but hate
And even though you love me I'm still clinchin' away
That how it goes in the state where blue rags murder blue rags
And hoot lags get body bags to Mazda rotary backseat toe tags
It's so bad see i don't know who to trust
Last time a trusted a nigga he came out wit sum stuff
He was talkin' shit about me nigga and I didn't know what to do
So I keep that heat that eat like cujo
That will fold up your whole crew
Like new clothes I choose those
Niggaz that 'ol carry for'-for' and do those
Things that put some cold on your toes your whole body froze
No matter who you think I should kicc it wit
I do it solo end thats it(You Trip)

(Chorus)
There Was A 187 on 24th Street
There was a 187 on 24th Street(Did You Know?)
There was a 187 on 24th Street
See you can get your mind tore up fuckin' wit us
We let straps bust X2

. . .


Drunken Style Nigga (Drunken Style)
Give me your clothes
Give me your gold
Give me all the money you owe (right now)

Don't like to think so I drink heavy
Dam slugs out the Chevy livin' armed and deadly
I'm taking chunks from punks who want funk
Treat'em like .15's put'em in the trunk
I slip clean makin' sure all my shit clean
Then seem like a wolverine wit a gleam in sceam gangsta lean
Out the window hit your blocc corner everybody litted up
Runnin' them tires like tha Daytonya tuck you up it ain't nothin'
Pushin' buttons who wantto smoke them bustas
See I was a baby when I first got Sicc
Did the (??????????) and alcohol and 'bout fill there wall with syphills dick
Just my kicks tricks get chop out like a cold cut heat'em up
Rocked up like that cokesta I ain't no jokes or pranksta real gangsta
Shit from that nigga who brought you Season Of Da Sicc
Admit that was my tightest shit besides this don't get me wrong every songs is a hit
Guess who made this Phonk Beta while you suckas ain't paying right we stayin' tight
Pullin' openin' Ziplocks every nite my momma neva fed me right
We was broke some i'm off that OE you know me i'm no mothafucka joke
When it comes to rippin' up shit ziplock bodybag toetag
I leave your t-shirt sweaty anyplace anytime you ready

(Chorus)x4
Comin' soon you want to hear more buy my shit 2002

Song = Drunken Style

. . .

Dedication

[Нет текста]

. . .

Divide

[Нет текста]

. . .


This songs dedicated to them niggaz bumpin gums and talkin shit behind a nigga back
Knowing I can't defend myself (if you trippin')
Oh if you trippin'(Thats real)then it must be you i'm tallkin' 'bout
(don't trip) and if it ain't you don't trip

(Verse 1 BLH)
Drop niggaz like bad habits that's the truth
Mothafucka be runnin around actin like they bulletproof
How could i trust you wouldnt bust 2 slugs for me
Talkin bout you thug homie you really aint got love for me
Anyway what you do for me Nuttin'
You wouldnt let the forty-five keep buccin
What you tslkin anbout in your stuff
You dont live nowhere near gangsta street
And if i wanted to I'd take out sum of teeth
And for the rest of my life have beef and
You know what I do wit meat(meat)
Know to cheat creep from the bacc of the Cadillac Seville
pull out the strap and attack the vel
And if it don't happen I'm goin to keep doin musicc and talkin shit
About you never even mention your name cuz
It'll come out you a bitch-ass nigga you live you life all secluded
And if i wasn't around you wouldn;t do shit
Talkin you jacc nigaaz put'em in the bacc witta blue rag around they snuggle
Used to have a huddle of Siccmade niggaz and know its only me that rumble
Eat'em up like gumbo(don't trip) how could i know i was so comfortable you took advantage of the whole
Situation all that shit you makin' it was cuz of me we was cool for all those years
But I was blind and couldnt see

There it is
Another nigga went ballstic on me
Couldnt have his way so i guess he turned his bacc on me
And if he didnt i'm just tired of shit
I rather do it on my own do it all alone he was dipped X2


(Verse 2)
This sum fake nigga pain how could i knew it fat supply of licca fluid
Some green leaves that stank up the whole house that how we had it
Everyday make sure my niggaz was drunk and high in every eway
3 O'lock in the morin come home drunk and fall out
I didnt give a fucc they was my homies i went all out
Then I found out must of them fake like Van-Damme
They know about the game but couldnt bracc a damn can
Wit hollow tips in they hands so i jucc'em like a cracc sacc
Make 'em fill hella bad make sure they never coming bacc
They show me too much shit i couldnt take it couldnt make it
Another year dealin wit all this fake shit nigga yeah
And nigga i'm tired of you spyin on me kiccin it wit that other mothafucca
That be lyin on me why homie i thought me and you was untouchable
You be tellin everybody what you know so bye homie


There it is
Another nigga went ballstic on me
Didnt think i loved him so i guess he turned his bacc on me
And if he didnt i'm just tired of shit
I rather do it on my own do it all alone he was dipped X2


(Verse 3)
This sum weak nigga sauce the kind you put on spaghetti
I'm a kicc bacc nigga but im armed and deadly
And im shootin them gangsta melodies to your heart and soul
Know too put a mini-mac in a nap-sacc and get off the yak and kill a C.E.O.
Then you could see me smoke circles out your neighborhood
Wit a tall cann in my lap 20 pacc and 50 sacc
Metal to meatl the heat wont settle til you in that wood (in that wood)
I cant help it thats how it is
I mean run up in your crib and get your kids you know i could
You couldnt touch me witta silencer of a long-range
I tried to do all that i could but you think this all game
Sit at home drunk and judge niggaz you remind me of my uncle always havin a grudge nigga
Aint nothin goin to happen that aint suppose to happen a poet of rappin
Close the gap hit that ass witta mini-mac
Close caption cuz im a M.V.P. Maxuim Violet Perfected
And if you fucc wit me fucc you in the ass wit the weapon
Grew up in the G.B.C a hood wit niggaz really dont give a fucc
Smashed passed'em one time hitta blunts smoke out the whole parkin lot up
And you already you know that about me whats your problem
Bumpin your gume like the Green Goblin we goin be squabbin


(Chorus)
there it is
Another nigga went ballstic on me
xoulksnt get his way so i guess he turned his bacc on me
and if he didnt i'm just tired of shit
I rather do it on my own do it all alone he was dipped
there it is
Another nigga went ballstic on me
couldnt hit the weed so i guess he turned his bacc on me
and if he didnt i'm just tired of shit
I rather do it on my own do it all alone he was dipped X2

. . .

Down At The Court House (Skit)

[Нет текста]

. . .

Money, Power, Respect

[Нет текста]

. . .


You know I'm off the Mad Dogg 20/20 I'm plottin' for money
This old man greedy he tryin' to keep shit for me I live him stiff as a mummy
What become of me I'm desperate 'bout to let it spit unless he break bread
I want the lettuce and cheese whole sandwhich you know it
I should be poundin switches down the streets and plannin'
No head is how you found him theres was plot

The spot's surroned by pitbulls and rots' you get past them you get shot
It was about 9 o'clock I was at the grindin' spot Niftted got the word where he work at
It's time to get that 9 millimeter heater and hurt that belevie I squirt that
Led in your life deadin' your wife with the led pipe redin' your white sheets
With said in your life you might as well snipe'em writin' obituary rippin'
Scary punk ass bitchinary stichin' you carry is complimentary of SiccMade Musicc
We keep it crackin' automatics we rappin' niggas of cellar

Thats right before the 4th of July I didn't make it somethin' was off
'Cause I saw it in my sleep wake up coughin' dripin' sweat almost couldn't breath
Took a minute to accept just had to get calm and collect'd wipe the sweat up off my face
Then felt the blood on my neck just like invasion don't wanna give the police no statement
Look around see if maybe a drugged somebody to the basment couldn't recall
Guess I dunk too much of that Madd Dogg last night 20/20 like 3,2,1 I blast off
Back in the day when I use to ride the train I saw acouple of events I say I wish I never seen
So I feel like anytime I gots to leave my house I got to get my pistol and have my pitbull keep look out

See now it's a dirty situation you makin' don't be mistakin' I shakin' scrappin'em off the concrete to the Lincoln
I should've raped 'em they rapein' me fuckin' me like a hotel slut even though he dead I put the .12 gauge in his butt (BOOM)
No matter what I ain't goin' to the pen this Uthazim I use to get for matieral now I posion his cearal
I was a good kid turn'd bad(good kid turn'd bad) never had a dad and I sent fire to his pad(too his pad)
Broke into his home and if he was home (home alone) hustla so good but this thing not ready hee we go
I rather load up the Ooh to remove his mind to spaghetti Zigg Zagg you know

And I had realized how I let off on his wife also figured out the blood on my neck was from his knife
He come to get my mann from what I guess better be my bless thats right 'cause if i catch'em
Now it's goin' be a mess not even 2 days next after that I heard the news
record company know for flexin' got gunn'd down wit a duece-duece gotta watch my back now
'Cause I did his wife ???? took I large chunk sratchin' hoppin' on an early flight met up with Lynch Hung
COS told him what happened well it looks like they could've guess'd it already know whats craccin'
Close to a meal ticket that what we should have knockin' and the third of profit
That's goin' straight into my pockets (Thats right)

. . .

Where's My Checc? (Skit)

[Нет текста]

. . .


I used to push 24 Deep in '92 like cocaine
Had them gangsta niggaz railed up doin' it wit no name
Stayin' at the roach motel 2 for 2 chesse hamburger deals
Doin' shows in broke down clubs just to get a meal
Imma keep it real it was all skillz that payed your bills
And the fact that you don't pay niggaz that shit going to get you killed
But don't worry about me partna
Like I said I'm already dead I hold this infared point blank range steadily at your head
Cuz I'm a blocc nigga you know what happens when you fucc wit us
We cut your tongues off switch niggaz and stuff bloody'em up(bloody'em up)
Run up in the cut and fucc it rough you up and put you up
These broke niggaz don't give a mothafucc
I want that meal ticket and we'll never kicc it cuz you funny styles
Still won't fucc wit you even if you gave me my money now
Funny how ridaz get bought up you about to get caught up like Bo King
You be gettin' niggaz thats why you got no team

[Chorus]
Damn,niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers
Bam,hit'em witta enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran too the 1964 and smashed off
So fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off (1)
Fucc your record company I'm about to blast off (2) (X2)

[Verse 2]
I was young dumb full of cum full of O.E. and Rum
Spittin' chunccs of meat all heat
Always givin' where I from in every verse 24 Blocc like I don't give a fucc
Suppose to be in the studio but I'm somewhere drunk fuccin' up
Blacc Too Short I ain't trippin'
Used to be a record thing now it's a new sport put your clip in
I heard you be dreamin' about niggaz in ski masks with bottles of blacc molasses
Ran up your pad quicc woke your ass up wit the magnum
I could of been platnium a loc went bad when you jacc'd him
You get'em old like Carl Weathers you ain't got no Action Jackson
I'm mirror watchin' when I'm paccin' nigga give me my shit
You the type of nigga that pay for hits I don't pay for shit
Cuz I'm broke you wanted it that why for some reason
Couldn't find you for nuttin' ever since I did Season Of Da Sicc
Picc'em off like Deion everything you see me on
Is stolin' in your life pure witta colon serious until it's over
Imma always be at that ass witta butcher knife
Askin' where you put your wife and why did I took your life
Houses got bought up you about to get caught like Bo King
You begettin' niggaz thats why you got no team

[Chorus]
Damn,niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers
Bam,hit'em witta enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran too the 1964 and smashed off
Fucc your record company I'm about to blast of (1) (X2)
So fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off (2)

[Verse 3]
Shit is gettin' to the point where imma smash on everbody
And it's gettin' to the point where I don't fucc wit nobody
Beleive it I tucc the ol' shotty in the glove compartment
Hit the town in ????????????? if he start shit
I spark shit that heat you up cool you off shit
Those old joints you remakin' homes imma get my profit
We struggle for years on the ???? we can rap it out
If you ????? shows I pull the tec and take you out
It the cut and lay low until I get my shit
Interrupt your day with fadeo'z put 44 holes in your windpipe
They know i'm sicca than sicc when i split your shit leave you coughin' up liver bits
Fuccin' niggaz to get your grip it aint safe
Nigga where was you faith we could of blow up
You better watch how you do stuff
Can't wait fot the new stuff it's called Lynch By Inch
I put your bitch on the ground I say wheres the money
Swiss count bitch damn that nigga tryin' to get me for my papers
Bam,hit her witta enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran too the 1964 and smashed off
So fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off

(Chorus)
Damn,niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers(1,2,3,5)
Damn, that niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers(4)
Bam,hit'em witta enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran too the 1964 and smashed off
Fucc your record company I'm about to blast of (1)(3)(5)
So Fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off (2)
NIgga Fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off (4) X5

. . .

Kicc The Door In (Skit)

[Нет текста]

. . .

Don't Stop

[Нет текста]

. . .

Outro

[Нет текста]

. . .


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