Lyrics for On My Briefcase by Brotha Lynch Hung:
(lynch):Now on my briefcase was some crumbled weed
A pack of saravegas and a 24 ounce o.e.
Might as well skeez these couple of hoes
In my 69 malibu sittin’ on trues and vogues
For days you might have seen me in my cinnamon cut chrome shoes
With some you can’t see me tint on the windows indo syndrome
Smokin’ it up, not givin’ a muthafuckin’ fizuck
Sold the cut, my ex-hoe said that nigga’s sqautin’ what?
Got at the homie carl, and got some of that bomb
Had me so fuckin’ high i got off like vietnam
Dead bodies and bitches clits simmerin’ in the crock pot
And the shit don’t stop until my muthafuckin’ chronic or high drop
It’s just that insane type of thang, let the mac rain guts in the drain
Siccmade niggas they make the world go round
And if you fuck with siccmade music you can get your ass gunned down
(phonk beta):
I had a homie who stayed up in alaska, used to transfer flights over nebraska
And flew me back about a ounce of that alaska indica weed
And out of the whole zip possessed one seed
Had it wrapped real tight all up in cellophane
Can’t have the k-9 dogs smell it, man
If only you saw what i was seein’, the buds was almost pure white, not green
Had to be one of those one hitter quitter dome splitters
That’s the type a tweed that makes you wanna fuck your baby-sitter
I roll a fattie, when i roll this fattie
Niggas’ll be all noid wonderin’ why they lookin at me
Bitches have the nerve to say my shit ain’t bomb
But it’ll have your lungs burnin’, like your puffin’ on napalm
(zagg):
I wipe that sweat up off my forehead, i’m off the cusche
Lay back and take a comfortable hit, with a q-tip, it’s splittin’ my lips
And my dome stays split off toothpicks
I hit a lick with a quickness, dumpin’ dead bodies in ditches
Appreciate the fact, come correct, cuz i could be vicious
Suspicion, comin’ up on recognition i’m creepin’ up from behind
With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, i’m all prepared to go for mine
So step in line, a couple of hits, dome split, i be lit on a for real base
With a machete i’ll slice your neck just like them jason cases
Murder traces, but i ain’t pinned cuz there’s no evidence
Slight scent of that purple cusche plant, and i can almost sense the essence
What’s the lesson? get tested, don’t come if you can’t come correct
It’s that west coast shit for life i don’t know what you expected
I’m reckless, nevertheless i’m a pimp in a bulletproof vest
Puttin’ it down, pound for pound, you need to take a step down
50 caliber rounds, i’m runnin’ through your whole town
Buckin’ em down like doom set on deathmatch with the bfg-9000 cartoon
Lyrics for Devils & Gunsmoke by Brotha Lynch Hung:
(talking)Yeah, straight from the muthafuckin duece
It’s the brotha lynch hung once again, ya know what i’m sayin
And all i see is muthafuckin devils and gunsmoke, ya know
But i ain’t gon’ trip, i’m just gon kick some shit for y’all muthafuckas
So peep this out
Niggas better always know
For y’all so-called devils and gunsmoke
Walkin through the duece
Ya got, better eat, no joke
Livin life like a muthafuckin criminal
Watchin my back from gettin jacked by the 5-0
One-time peepin a nigga out
A couple a dank sacks in my dickies
Ol’ english in my mouth
Ya know, and if it wasn’t for my muthafuckin skin tone
I wouldn’t even trip, just strike my black ass home
Even if i had a chrome
I bust two caps and head home
Hopin to hit fools right in the dome
’cause all i see is devils and gunsmoke
Pussy and hoes, and hella blood when my nine blows
A young nigga on the rage, rampage
Twenty-four years of age with a 40 and a 12-gauge
And then a muthafucka change
Baby killin ass nigga and ain’t a damn thang strange
A muthafucka sold juice, bulletproof
Known to eat a pussy and put a gun inside of it and shoot
A nigga wit’ a mind so bad
Close my eyes, and all i see is little bloody babies in a glad bag
Nigga, manson ain’t shit
I got niggas killin mamas and niggas on the devils dick
But now it all adds up the this, locc
Niggas hatin god and all i see is devils and gunsmoke
(talking)
Yeah, you know what my drunk ass father told me
He said ‘look little nigga, you have to run your own muthafuckin life’
And i was trippin, ’cause this muthafucka had a gun to my muthafuckin head
It was about 12 o’ clock, somethin don’t smell right
I’m in the hall in the middle of the night
Somethin reekin like sweat, drippin off a burnt up pig
Muthafuckas in the crib, crept through the hall like a thief
Fiends a fiends, and cocaine smoke nigga no-name
Folks run in the crib, you know the situations tore up
My homies sellin dope to my folks but you know what
I don’t give a fuck no more ’cause i’ma blow up
Usin all the fury inside to make some more cuts
’cause all i see is what?
Black muthafuckas walkin ’round tryna’ found out what’s what
Smoke up, but all i see is threats
Swear if i see anotha muthafucka i don’t know
In my crib, i’ma shoot him in the neck
Pimp respect for a muthafuckin vet
Causin anotha nigga death
Do a little time for a slut
Shoot before i get shot, playin fools like a half deck
’cause all i see is devils and gunsmoke
I say that ’cause i don’t wanna claim and end up like x-raided
You know i gotta eat if i eat ya, see if i see ya
Shoot up, then i’m on my way
’cause my mama used to say, it ain’t a hoax
Because niggas are hatin god and all i see is devils and gunsmoke
