| Block call, Big NoLove, my nigga Sav Sicc, my nigga Bleezo
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| Let’s get it in, to a Phonk Beta beat, you know what I’m saying?
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| I spit the acetous, sick and hazardous flow
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| Schizophrenic for chips, so quick to flash on a hoe
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| Rip adamant 'til the Lynch’ll pass me the dro
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| 'Cause when I get the hatchet I’m cuttin' shit in half at the door
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| A nuisance to the game
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| Bitch, I’m nefarious, etherious
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| Even my therapist swear I’m a terrorist
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| Various niggas snitchin', tryna be a good Samaritan
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| 'Til I leave 'em sleeping with the fishes: Aquarius
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| Ain’t no easy comparison
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| I’m a spitter who’s able to spit it exquisite
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| Givin' niggas the business within this shit
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| I’m so fuckin ridiculous with this game y’all
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| Mouthpiece cause massacres, call me chainsaw
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| Know some niggas that mop shit over 8 balls
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| Sick and vicious, niggas can’t see me 'cause of they Ray Charles
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| Yeah, hit the block with the napalm
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| With the Coathanga Strangla eatin' niggas' brains raw
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| Yeah, Spydie’s back
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| And he’s creeping around town like a Siamese cat
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| I’ma fry these rats
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| Me NoLove, Bleez and I need Sav (and Skitso)
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| I got flame mane, throw up the deuce when I gangbang
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| Rippin' his guts, sippin' a cup of blood up
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| 'Bout to get in the cut, fucking a nigga nut up
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| Nigga, I’m serious, fast and furious
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| Eddy Murph' delirious
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| Sick in the brain
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| Spittin' the dangerous flow
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| Pullin' it out and I aim at his throat, oh
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| I get pie, apple pie, Chevrolet, sever they
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| Human anatomy, assault and battery had to be every day
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| I’m sick, need medicine, Excedrin
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| I’m ahead of them, I’m a dead man walkin' and it’s evident
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| Gettin' bread like I’m takin' out the President
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| It is what I said it is, I’ma be rippin' a nigga up in a head again
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| Better men the veteran is giving out the medicine and ever since amphetamine
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| My sentiments exactly, to the backseat with the black heat
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| Hit 'im in the head then I’m like a track meat 'til a nigga get back, sleep
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| Exactly, pull a nigga cap to the backseat, get that deep then it’s that eat
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| I’ma eat people, lethal and he know, a heatseeker
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| He’s ether, please, give me the guns and them keys
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| I said give me the guns and them keys
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| Ey, all my niggas crippin' and gang bang
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| So if a nigga trippin' then we makin' your brains hang
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| My niggas never switch and we gon' stick to the same thing
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| With this bundle of yola that I’m flippin to maintain
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| And I’m infamous, niggas’ll they get their liver split
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| I’m militant, I’ve been a Crip, you niggas sound illiterate
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| Nigga I keep it one hundred like my cigarettes
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| Articulate, come get a whiff of this nigga, I’m venomous
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| I get high like a satellite
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| Niggas know I spit fire, dragon fire
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| MC’s know I got an appetite
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| (Dark chest niggas fold when I grab the mic)
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| Nigga
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| And I’m sick like venereal
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| Carry your body to give it a proper burial
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| Hysteria, I’m spittin' malaria through your stereo
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| Spit the uzi and ooh wee like my nigga montario
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| Bitch, I chew beats like full piranhas
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| Bud Light in my hand, provoking drama
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| The hoe don’t put the dough in my hand I’ma open-palm her
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| Super fly, I turn the brokest mama to Pocahontas
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| I roast any opponent that flows upon us
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| Will hop out of that focus, unloading llamas
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| Gun fight like it’s the coke from contra
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| But I keep a chrome katana
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| 'Cause when I’ve been smoking ganja I’m flippin them hoes Blanka
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| We got that mass pass connect
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| If niggas try to smoke me I got that gas mask effect
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| My gat’ll blast caps the rent, so if I smash past your symbol
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| It’s a flash for no reason, you sweat my scrap past the rent
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| Ain’t no reason at all, the things were involved
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| The things when they fall
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| This nigga wouldn’t even swing at a broad
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| Get seen in a mall, catch you while he leavin' the stall
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| Right hook, left jab, back hand, Steven Seagal
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| Chop, chop, to the head, leavin' him red
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| Red, dead bodies in the bed, cleaver in hand
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| I’m the kind to fryumup, with Sionel my nuts
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| I’m nuts, I’m Russian, I’m your highness
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| I’m the finest minus, yeah I got it covered like Linus
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| I’m his thymus, I’m his primus, guns are shining
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| I’m in the lead and I’m bleeding
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| I prime guts I got sinus problems it’s the |
| Spit like cocaine snorting MDMA, GBC in it
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| Eatin' human beings like seasoning
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| Coathanga Strangla: believe in him
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| You can get cooked with the beavers creep
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| We even, we even-steven
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| I’m leavin', No Love bringing me cleaverwhich
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| Off top on my block niggas sick in the brain
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| I spit toxic and got ridiculous aim
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| My whole clique got ridiculous fame, spit syphilis flame
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| Keep a bitch with ridiculous brain
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| Cut him into pieces when the trigger releases, my niggas in pieces
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| I’m squeezin' if you give me a reason
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| I’m like lieutenant Dan
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| Give these niggas the business
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| I cock back, blow your brain all over your tenants
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| In it to win it, I fight 'til the finish
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| And have a bitch lick my balls while I’m eating my spinach
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| Everytime I turn my back somebody biting me in it
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| I pull her ovaries out and fucking finally end it
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| Raised up in the gaze like nigga less
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| Now I’m out, got some niggas on my hit list
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| Sick shit, 666 shit, this shit I spit, my flip look ridiculous, yeah
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| And when I’m out in your place
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| Cock back, pop that and put one in your face
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| Never catch me slippin' without out one in the waist
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| One under the pillow case and I keep one in the safe, nigga |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Therapy Session , by - Brotha Lynch Hung. Song from the album Coathanga Strangla, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп