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feat cos crookwood brotha lynch hung - mannibalector (feat. cos & crookwood) - brotha lynch hung lyrics

[intro]
not again, fool, come on, man.
alright, alright, check it out
personal belongings in the basket
i got a bag for you right here, so just put the clothes in there
and take off them motherf-ckin’ boots too, i got some new ones for you

go ahead and holler at me when you’re done
i’ll be in the back room, i got some sh-t for you, so

[verse 1: brotha lynch hung]
now, that i know it’s time to eat
i can feel it in my gut and i’m ’bout to run up
and put a gun up in ’em, cut up in ’em
autocratic, automatic reaper
i will leave ’em bleedin’ in the street with the heater
diabolical, after i follow you i eat your meat up
why he’s hollow, i swallow a bottle as i eat the anatomy
amityville, mannibal can and he will
man i’m an animal, when i’m heatin’ ’em up i’m lethal
you don’t want to be f-ckin’ with me, i eat dead people
i’m that n-gg- that’s keepin’ body parts in the freezer
sh-t, f-ck her and leave her
i’d rather put her up until i’m hungry then i eat her
the doctors, the coroners, the cops they’ll never see her
i eat that b-tch up quicker than a crocodile, believe it
now i wish a n-gg- would, that’s what emcees get
these motherf-ckers is b-tches, i hit ’em in the cleavage

[hook: brotha lynch hung]
yeah, i’m mannibalector
she’s standing there naked, i’m ’bout to get naked
she’s tied to the bedpost, i like to give head most
she likes to give head best, blood on the headrest
strange music, b-tch, you can tell by the necklace
i carry me a chainsaw but this ain’t the texas
chainsaw m-ssacre, n-gg-, worse than the manson
murders, i turn ’em to hamburger meat

[verse 2: brotha lynch hung]
i put ’em in the trunk of the droptop
i don’t wanna get blood on my pioneer boxtop
operation make pasta
makin’ it, test the spaghetti noodles, i’m a coo-coo
and a local in the? with a cleaver in the dresser
butcher knife and machete, i do you in the p–p chute
poke ’em and i undress ’em and leave ’em in the recipe
i told you i was an atheist, eatin’ ’em with lettuce and meat
puttin’ n-gg-s in a wok pot, takin’ n-gg-s to the chop shop
n-gg-s is as soft as a box of cotton
n-gg-s be off that oxycotton
probably rotten ’em, body rotten
obviously potty tottened
probably not in danger yet, internet cable
watchin’ id channel cause i’m able
and cocaine in cellophane wrapped up under the table
ready to murder rappers, cut ’em and clap ’em, reppin’ the label
blue house in the stable, mini macs on the table
tornado, nato, egos get? and they know

[hook]

[verse 3: brotha lynch hung]
fresh out the motherf-ckin’ county jail
pillows with no feathers and the county smell
black sweat t-shirt, brown as h-ll
if a n-gg- try to f-ck with me i crown his head
he don’t wanna get bl–dy does he?
i’mma have to get muddy, buddy
hit ’em with the chainsaw, cuddy
leavin’ his brains raw, dummy
i’m gonna have to get silly putty
i’m gonna have to hit ’till he’s ugly
i’m gonna have to get really ugly
killing cuddy, killing cuddy
mr. mcgillicuddy, he’s the high school teacher
used to take the b-tch to the closet to teach her
until he took my daughter to the closet to teach her
now i’m usin’ his head as my alb-m’s main feature
serial killers kill a n-gg-, i’m timin’, i’m the creature
from the black side of town now i’m about to eat?
cut her up and i eat her, crack domes like easter
easter egg, leave me, eat her

[hook]

[outro]
this right here, this is traditional br-ss knuckles
easily penetrate any vital organs
uh, this right here, i know you lose this a lot

sick–ss brain works, so
youknowwhati’msayin’

grrr

hey, man, give me some bigger pants or somethin’
some bigger pants

- feat cos crookwood brotha lynch hung lyrics

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