Lyrics My Papers - Brotha Lynch Hung

My Papers

I used to push 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
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) 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 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 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 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
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) So fucc your record company
Imma 'bout to blast off (2)
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 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
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