| Yeah, I’m in an all black khaki suit
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| In an all black room feeling like I’m in the back of the room
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| And I’m strapped to something that’s like out of a movie
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| That’s cool. |
| Kill like I’m in a Dracula movie
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| That’s too practical, did a tactical movement
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| Next thing you know I was loose and I was moving
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| Brotha Lynch Hung go through the jungle with a machete
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| And I hunt those, then I cut throat
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| I don’t know what’s happening, maybe I’m blacking out
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| Killing everybody in sight then smashing out
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| Murder date nigga, go 'head ask him out
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| Coathanga Strangla nigga, ask about him
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| Like J-Lo… oh, ass is out
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| Anybody’ll tell ya that nigga’s an acid mouth
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| I will never lose, I’m cruising past your house
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| I’mma start chewing his meat if his ass is out
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| Hit me with the .50 — get your brains blasted
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| Carry me a Billy the Kid and that’s plastics
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| Buried nigga, hid in the crib, and that’s-that's it
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| I be on some dumping the dead niggas in caskets
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| Do it for the bi-bi uh chop chop
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| Do it for the bitches, tch-tch-tch, slash 'em
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| I get all up in a nigga head, aspirin
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| I could get a nigga shot in the head, ask 'em
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| Orville Redenbacher, nigga I’ll pop ya
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| Tore his head like cotton, go need the doctor
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| Call the coroner, leavin' him in a corner
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| Called his boys up, they gon' be looking for him
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| Put these toys up, disappear in the morning
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| Eat these boys up, it was a little boring
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| Shit his prime guts, I’m nuts, I’m sick
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| I must consider Your Highness, bitch
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| Suicide watch
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| Yeah boy, got my mind on the milli
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| Hand gripped tight on the milla
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| Finger on the trigger and you fucking with a straight gorilla
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| Dominate the enemy tremendously
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| And leave 'em with his face on the pillow
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| Reppin' MadeSicc nigga, they don’t really want it
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| If you want it come and get it
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| Come with it, I’mma spit it from the start to the finish
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| With no fault or pretending, hit all in yo' mouth like a dentist
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| (Is it the siccness!?)
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| They got a nigga all in it to win it
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| Busta better pardon my Cripness'
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| Put you on my hit list *gunshot*
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| And just bring a witness to the lyrical massacre of these bitches
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| Played a part in inventing this
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| Cut, slice, dice, chop, beef scrambled up, test and cook syrup
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| Nigga, 'cause I’mma hit 'em with
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| Right, left, punch, uppercut, then throw pronouns and verbs
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| And many other words, I’m like a Thunderbird
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| I mean a Thundercat, that’s just the way I act
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| I put 'em on their back and that’s a known fact
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| I leave their motherfucking sound and their line flat
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| You wanna habitat, where them G’s at?
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| I flip it like a mat and light it like a match
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| Freddy Krueger Luda, with a Ruger on his lap
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| Poom, pang, ping, kill a dream like that
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| So where my niggas, yo? |
| And where the bitches go?
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| We paint a pretty picture from the ceiling to the flo'
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| We tear the club up, been done fucked the streets though
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| If you really want it all you gotta do is let me know
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| You fucking with my Brotha Lynch, I’m busting Calicos *gunshot*
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| I creep up on you, you don’t wanna give you mo'
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| Hotter than the sun, colder than an Eskimo
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| Blap at 'em with the 4″ and have 'em yelling Geronimo!
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| Suicide watch
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| I don’t know, (yeah) I mean
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| My whole point is that I just- I just want it and I- and I need it
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| What exactly is it that you want?
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| I need- I need your blood all over me
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| I think you’ve really gone mad
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| No, I’m just playing
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| I think you’ve really gone insane
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| Let’s just- just go in a
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| Well that’s what you say
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| But I read the other day that you know that it was only for
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| Meanwhile |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Suicide Watch , by - Brotha Lynch Hung. Song from the album Coathanga Strangla, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп