Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Close My Eyes, artist - Brotha Lynch Hung. Album song The Plague, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 18.04.2005
Record label: Orchard
Song language: English
Close My Eyes |
Die |
(Open your eyes, Hypnotize, Surprise muthafucka you gonna die) |
I… I close my eyes |
And am I surprised to see what’s on my mind |
I dwell in the spot that’s super hot |
Welcome to my area |
There’s a dead nigga on the block, call the cops |
Welcome to my area |
Makin fat knot, sellin chronic and them rocks |
Welcome to my area |
My hoggs drop dawgs and you will get dropped |
Welcome to my area |
It’s like this |
Past destruction, Consequences |
Repercussions, Sick intensions |
I blew a left tire on the gta, on I-15 |
When the cops was chasing |
Made it to the exit ramp |
Feelin amped but I swerved and hit the curb |
My best chance was appear in Perry Ellis |
Two strike felon, So I’m runnin from the ghetto bird |
So they chased me out the Suburbs |
But it’s all good, cause I’m in my hood |
I know the dark places and the corners to cut like the back of my hand |
Like I know I should, Rough neck |
Oh shit, The ghetto bird |
Hit the fence and ripped a sleeve |
I’m in the backyard of Dynomite’s |
So I jumped in the dog house with his pit bull Hercules |
And let the bitches in the sky fly by |
I tapped his window |
He said, |
«What up nigg», What up |
«Get your ass in», Alright |
«We need to g», Okay |
«Hit this blunt», Alright |
«Sip this Henn», Yeah |
Rough Neck syndrome makes it hot in December |
Enough to jack Chris Cringle |
You could call me the ghetto grinch |
I keep it true with Doom |
'Cause of my Siccmade family members, Uh |
I… I close my eyes |
And am I surprised to see what’s on my mind |
Die |
(Open your eyes, Hypnotize, Surprise muthafucka you gonna die) |
Die |
(nigga what’s up, Now you stuck with nuthin but bad luck) |
(nigga you fucked) |
I’m scorchin you |
Might have to torture you |
Cut your nuts with razor blades |
Make corpses' stew |
I like pork and meat |
I’m on your porch with heat |
You want the Triple Crown? |
I’ll cut off your horses' feet |
Yeah of course it’s me, The B-A-B-Y-K-I- Double L |
Right when you stomach swell |
Kick it with a size twelve |
You was a fluke, bitch |
I couldn’t let you keep your dottles off of two fifth’s |
It’s our little secret |
Put you in the bedroom, Rip your guts |
Bitch give me some head room, No nicks and cuts hoe |
I hate that shit, You know I rape that shit |
Call me super-dick |
They can’t find a cape that fits, So I don’t hate |
I like cumin in your throat straight |
You bitches is so fake, You could die a slow fate |
You get’s no breaks, Just nuts in your mouth |
Strap in your mouth and the Mac in your mouth, nigga |
I… I close my eyes |
And am I surprised to see what’s on my mind |
Die |
(Open your eyes, Hypnotize, Surprise muthafucka you gonna die) |
Die |
(nigga what’s up, Now you stuck with nuthin but bad luck) |
(nigga you fucked) |
Motion detector, Plague infector |
Knife dissector, Bone collector |
Hannibal Lecter like nigga |
With a lighter and a fire in my fuel injector |
I set 'em up, Knock 'em down |
Get my clown on, Cut 'em up with a frown on |
I gets down on niggaz |
Hell bound with the trigger |
I’m a killa lookin to make more than six figures |
Get twisted up like a French braid |
Rippin you up cause you bitch made |
Cin Sity and the sickest nigga from Siccmade (Lynch) |
Apocalypse Pit and Eklypss from Doomsday |
Us niggaz is crazy |
If you can imagine what goes through the mind of a sick muthafucka |
You gotta be a sick muthafucka to love us |
And understand not to fuck with us gut rippers, s*** dickers, |
Steel-toed boot butt kickers, rough niggaz |
Nuttin in bitches, throwin on the Dickies |
And leavin the pussy red and dead, Infected with the plague |
Understandin what I’m sayin? |
I’m Doom to the max |
Don’t make me have to break out the axe |
I done did it before, I’ll do it again |
Cut a nigga from his nuts to his appetite and grin |
It’s all sin |
Make you notify your next-of-kin |
Drinkin a hundred and eighty proof of liquor |
I get sicker, gets wicked |
Get your bitch and dick her like my name was Dirt Diggler |
Call me the grave digger |
I can do you when you awake, nigga |
Don’t even gotta hate, nigga |
Or I can do you with your eyes closed |
Clog your nostrils, nigga die slow |