Lyrics Siccness - Brotha Lynch Hung, Doomsday Productions

Siccness

Please Mr. D.O.C, tell me could ya get a P.I.T remedy, im poison.
I got this aching in my tum tum, everytime i hit the chronic blunt i’m thinking
red rum.
Doomsday and EBK is all that a killa see, i’m having visions of ripping out a
niggers spleen.
my patience short and i killed before, and them voices in my head keep teelin
me to kill once more.
whats up DOC is there any hope?, i try to cope but im loco to a cut throat
addicted to weed, smokin and drinking like a pirate, aint no denying it
a niggea down to start a riot.
Sick wit it, down for killin niggas,
im down for killin bitches
set rippin on the haters, fuck i pop a witness, siccness using chronic for my
coffee fuck robotussin,
Death runs in my day, is my prescription.
Im sick brotha stay away unless you
kick it too.
Cause not no more you got the common cause of it too.
So i stay true 347
dedicated to doom.
Antibiotics, pennicillin cant help this feeeling and i cant help kicking it
with sick niggas,
cause my mind is gone and my blood is black.
And wit da siccness trickling in
my dome im not alone.
Ekklyps, Lynch and a nigger «unknown» sic the in a glass of «unknown»
with a hot bowl of monkey shit.
So imma call you in the morning docter gonna
have my cure, my mediction 187 cure da siccness.
its tha tha siccness
The siccness
Its the siccness
the siccness
(Ekklyps)
Evilistic eternal burnin sherm sticks, hit dat shit and feel like superman in
mental clicks.
I got that sick in the brain psycho norman bates shit.
But im still that wicked
insane siccness
nigga Eclipse.
Load the clip and hit dat alley with the torch, Bust, be sure to get them
bitches on the porch.
If you miss aint no time for reloadin no empty clips, get your ass split,
hit with a dose of this evil siccness.
How could you love me the killer, with murder in my eyes everytime i see a
bitch nigga.
with the millimeter to your gut, 9, 10, 11, 12 niggas i done fucked up.
Shit Doc, im steady swingin with this axe, and a fact ive done sharpened every
tool in my shack.
Attacks imma brainstormer body draining embalmer, bitch harmer with that same
sick doom drama.
My definition of a killer, 6ft 240lb nigga, Ekklyps, i got some evil shit thats
creeping through my terror dome
i take an axe and hack up every motherfucker on.
And goin murder with the
quickness, nigga this wickedness, doom shit siccness, not shit tell me what the
fuck is wrong with the Ekklyps (you gotta mutherfuckin fatal case of the
siccness)
its tha tha siccness
The siccness
Its the siccness
the siccness
(Lynch)
Just touched down, 15 years, knowing nigga’s rather put a spike in ya ears.
Cut ya nuts of mix’em with ya grits, cut ya dick off ya stitchem with ya bitch
made nigga’s die early, hard nigga’s die quicker off the jail house liquor,
now you a sicker nigga.
Quick creeping with yo black ice pick, trust me it
aint a good sight when ya killin them.
mix’em up and i fix’em up in a crockpot
full of gravy.
Need more shit so i hit the block with my baby, 80 rounds clips
admit if it aint that siccness then witness dead bodies and maserati’s lookin
like swiss chesse and tato chips.
Whats wrong with a nigga DOC?
I cant stop fiendin for the chop chop and i bet the nigga’s on my lot dont like
my plot.
So i empty out these nigga’s chest house the session, robotussin.
Couldnt hurt but these chromosones done got me stressin.
Smith and Wesson,
murder session, sick nigga’s doomsday taught a nigga one lesson.
Off the 4−0 oz.
and im sicker than sicker they told me.
Straight «unknown»
fuck tricks drink Olde E.
its tha tha siccness
The siccness
Its the siccness
the siccness