Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Sorta Like a Psycho , by - RBL Posse. Release date: 06.01.1992
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Sorta Like a Psycho |
| Sorta like a psycho, a nigga just might go Spray the whole town cuz a nigga is a schizo |
| Little freaky deetch try to say a nigga mean |
| But I’m sprayin punk ass with my Uzi machine |
| (What you gonna do that shit fo?), lay your punk ass on the floor |
| So you wanna be captain save a hoe? |
| Rat-a-tat rat-a-rat rat-a-tat-tat |
| (Is that a cap gun?), no it’s my mothafuckin mac |
| Or my deuce deuce, mothafuckin call it what you want to |
| (I call my shit a gun), well I call my shit the make-room |
| Mothafucka Mothafucka mothafucka pretty soon |
| Since you’re on my fuckin penis |
| why don’t you drop to your fuckin knees |
| Bow wow wow yipee yo yipee yipee yeah |
| Bark like a dog and just make my mothafuckin day, nigga |
| Ya fuckin wit the wrong one, psycho ass lunatic |
| nigga that is all wrong |
| B-L-A-C-K-C, my mothafuckin name |
| I put up the deuce deuce so pull out my 12 gauge |
| Boom boom boom I watch the nigga head fall off |
| Then I hit the cuts with my mothafuckin sawed off |
| Duck while the body rot, nigga still on the plot |
| But next time, I use my mothafuckin Glock |
| To the old school nigga where I’m known the most |
| Hunter’s Point, give it up smooth |
| Knick knack paddy wack, give a bitch a crack sack |
| While I’m up in the cuts, blowin off niggas backs |
| But it ain’t no thang, my bitch in the dope game |
| And I gotta ride, kill, and maintain my mothafuckin biz wax |
| A nigga’s fin to get tax, a nigga goin mad, they call me mad max |
| A mothafuckin rebel (a crazy ass basket) |
| Punk mothafucka just call me Charles Manson |
| Tear it off bro, (man wit the funk flow, give it up smooth) |
| Is my mothafuckin moto |
| But I see the blue and white suits wanna get me And I’m not goin out like my boy Tony T Bring em on bring em on bring em, I’m fin to hit the cuts and I’m |
| feelin shake and bake em Tippy tippy toe to my mothafuckin back door |
| I’m fin to straight chill wit a fat sack of indo |
| Bitch gimme some mothafuckin zig zags ho Now I got my zig zags, 40 ounce and watchin mad |
| Shoes all muddy, and pants filled wit green grass |
| But I’m not trippin, a nigga gotta kill time |
| Went to the closet, and pulled out my 9 |
| Stepped went crept to the mothafuckin window |
| The gun in the right hand, the left one indo |
| But the course is clear I’m fin to take a chill pill |
| Fuck that shit gimme a break down before I get ill |
| I’m startin off my last verse, five niggas in a herse |
| Fuckin wit me should’ve checked his fuckin head first |
| I pulled out the U to the Z to the I Punk mothafuckas weren’t prepared for the homicide |
| Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat same damn thing |
| Got four in the head and one in the nigga layin |
| And if they didn’t know me right now |
| Then they’ll never ever ever ever know me |
| (Mr.Cee) |
| So you should’ve be listenin from the get go Cuz the villian on the under is about to flow |
| I’m a nigga that moves in silence |
| And I get a head rush in the midst of violence |
| A lot of people don’t think highly |
| The reason cuz I’m a product of a violent society |
| And that’s the why the shit goes |
| Why go to a wholesale when I can jack you for your gold |
| And it don’t matter if you’re ten pounds bigger |
| You’ll just fall harder when I pull this trigger |
| Yeah there’s a lesson to be learned |
| But no one took notes, so niggas get burned |