brotha lynch hung – it’s real lyrics
[hook: sample]
hey man, it’s real
knowin that
hey man, it’s real
knowin that
hey man, it’s real
knowin that
hey man, it’s real
knowin that
[verse 1: brotha lynch hung]
i put you up n-gg-, don’t trip
you did your dirt for that mark
and he left you in the dark
sky-divin’ in a bullet-proof parachute
no remorse, left you hangin
easy aimin, lock down shoot
the glock sounds tootin
one minute til’ i’m in it
got a business, still they -ss to death
and get my scrill up in the corner, none left
shots out to my n-gg- in the pen.
didn’t switch, didn’t act b-tch
try to stop a n-gg- from gettin rich
you could dig a ditch, but you won’t find sh-t
left you in flames, kept the roach
you can smell the sh-t when i approach
i be off that stanky sack of indo-nesia
it’s a evidential
i leave you hungry, eat yo cheese up
heard you was sweet, like a almond joy
and i know you heard of me
cause i’m a west-coast bad boy
and i’m a sick n-gg-, “sicc made! ”
it gets real as i pull the pin out this grenade!
“body parts” like the movie
old school uzi
rip yo arms out from the elbows
n-gg- i smell those green leaves
the six thieves
a twenty-sack of green weed is all i need
i make you bleed, i take yo cream
i know you got it from the “ice cream man”
before you make that transaction
i need the cash in my hand
and if you don’t, we can do the murder-man dance
under any circ-mstance, i’m a have yo hands
[hook]
[verse 2: master p]
brotha lynch, i’m a make you a deal you can’t refuse
my phone tapped
the new code for halfs and wholes is t-shirts and tennis-shoes
from the yay, i got the sneakers
sixty-five for a shoe n-gg-, if you got the tweakers
meet me down-south, new orleans we b-mpin
i get this b-tch jumpin, you got the money
i got the g’s, flip the ki’s, and the o-z’s
we could blow some weed
and talk about this sh-t smokin some trees
but watch yo back, keep yo handle bar c-cked
too many federal agents pretend to be hustlers, but really cops
send it across the border, n-gg- like taco bell
put it in a plane, a boat, ups, n-gg- i could get it there
i’m surrounded by c-cktails, i mean hoes in mini-skirts
ain’t no free d-ck out here, it’s time to put in work
put these hoes on a greyhound, fool if it’s goin down
and make ’em bring it back, from my hood, to your town
and it’s all good, n-gg- it’s like wax
and we could slang these records like motherf-ckin crack
and if they b-mpin, we gotta keep ’em jumpin
cause it’s all about the cheddar, the cheese, and the money
[hook]
[verse 3: mr. serv-on]
a criminal tatted front-to-back
always ’bout my jack
doin a dope-deal, forget to bring yo strap
let it be fact, i blast first
i know no n-gg- that smart in a he-rs-
who cursed, my dope and money life
a eagle with blood stains in the scope
be my wife, live yo life
til’ death do us part
start my gangsta bounce
thirty-six ounce, to a ki
got this t-o-d in ya face
now tell me the f-ck else you got free
a thousand pounds of that skunk
ready to jump, smokin everything i can, huh
master p, and brotha lynch hung
let me serve some d-ck to these n-gg-s with they tongues out
eighty-five in the south
twenty-four in the east
see my scrilla, blow like yeast
cross my fingers, pull my wife
it’s hot tonight
a murder case, got away with a hundred g’s
and a couple of wild geese, headed west
capiche?
a hundred clunkers waitin my arrival
dirty… survival
[hook: to fade]
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