| I’m mastermindin the plot, you ??? |
| the spot
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| Wicked intentions, sensin friction, when the funk gon' pop
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| I tote my heat, and hold my ground
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| They know I clown
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| Pistol whippin and strippin em
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| Down to they riches, rapin they bitches
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| Nigga it’s a, jack move, 187, count yo blessin
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| Hollow tips fire from all directions, leavin em wetted
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| Yo pieces deleted from existence, don’t make no difference
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| I’m bangin like Metallica, serve any challenger
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| With a tre 8 caliber, fuckin em up like Algebra
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| From Cali to Florida, call the coroner
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| I’m missing in action, packin a full clip, for the bullshit
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| I told my nigga Lynch I got his back face
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| What’s up now, ???
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| Killa Tay, and I’m jackin the ditch
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| From the shit that get spit to take a lock on the dick
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| Like a red nosed pick nigga
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| I don’t really give a shit about they life man
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| Off that night train
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| Cut they fuckin throat wit a knife man
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| And that’s right man
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| Leave em layin in the cut
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| With they guts cut up what up
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| Put ya nuts up, on the shelf with no help
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| I’m so hell I’m so stealth, (I'm so, I’m so)
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| Nigga, Mr. know where to be contacted
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| Just bombsack it, tell my momma how I’m actin
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| When I’m packin I got my practice
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| In, I’m off that gin, losin wind (What you waitin for)
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| I’m waitin for the show to begin, half past ten thirty
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| Reverend like James, straight up strange
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| Shootin range, twenty four feet
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| Leave you off the earth with this heat
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| Leave you in the street, human meat
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| Believe me, I still be workin this like a thug (Like a thug)
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| Put you in the back of the Coupe DeVille
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| Take you to the alley, shoot to kill
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| Fuck that I gotta buck back (Nigga)
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| Fuck that (Nigga)
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| I ain’t goin out like no zombie
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| Nigga smokin all that bomb weed
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| You possess and yes, I’m strapped like tombstone
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| Ready to pull out the Rafe, man, clackin wit Killa Tay
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| Lunasicc, Marvaless
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| Like Jason, and CamCrystals with a pistol
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| Chainsaw and merchetti when the funk start, we ready
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| Like Jason and CamCrystals with a pistol
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| Chainsaw and merchetti, we serious about that fetti
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| Paper chase, but still credit to large accounts
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| Survive by the ounce all in the mix
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| Just as deep as it gets, ??? |
| no counterfeits
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| Strictly bout my six, but don’t ever doubt it
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| My niggas is bout it
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| For the love of the money and game
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| Shakin you niggas is funny
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| It’s just somethin about, the way the game get spit
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| Cali niggas find a ??? |
| in, for the scrilla strictly ballin
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| I figure a bitch nigga be the first to test
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| The first to get blessed
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| Not the one to stress I’m too complex
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| And my mind-state, no contest
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| Hot what I do so it takes a god to do what I must
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| Never had no trust
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| Cuz niggas will snitch
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| Go on some other shit real quick
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| Scholar, bout that dollar, make you holla, make you feel it
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| Drop wit Killa, we the realest
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| Cali niggas runnin the chain up
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| Double C, the gangsta with the Glock in the cut
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| Identify the busta, aim first, then I bust
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| Creepin with the mask, blast on any nigga that move
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| Put my bitch in the back seat, cuz my AP need room
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| I got a real crew of niggas, ain’t no punks in my squad
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| Bitch, to get away, drive, but don’t leave till the bank get robbed
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| I wear Khaki Pants, Levi Jeans, and Hilfiger’s
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| Puttin em on they back like they drunk off liquor
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| So throw them rags up
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| If niggas trippin, we catch em slippin, hold them 9's up
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| Blast on they ass, flash on they ass
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| Light my weed up, I like to get away high
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| On the cut postin like Pac
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| Niggas scream til I die, I’m no lie |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song So Serious , by - Brotha Lynch Hung. Song from the album The Appearances, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп