|
(Brotha Lynch)
|
(talking)
|
Yeah Im back up in this motherfucker
|
For the 9 whatever the fuck
|
You know I ain't dead yet
|
I'm with my real loc niggas
|
I was a dead man, walking they say, so every night I hit the gates
|
Loc'ed up ak and post up, in the window till come day, anyway hey
|
I feel the pay, back simmering in my brain
|
But thought to death cloud my mind
|
As my niggas is gone away many clips and 24 riches, packed
|
but who really got my back
|
Fade now that them niggas hit the grave
|
I'm killing them off for the olds days
|
24 ways and a 24 sack of that purple cush and make me sicker
|
than sick and even get Ripgut Cannibal if you wish
|
cause nigga it's EBK everyday all day to the day I die
|
I'm creepin through yo set with a mini mac 10
|
AR15 rugga with a 12 guage pump in the trunk
|
and a black beany disguise
|
That nigga that you can't see glocks and locs
|
over my eyes crept like a black cat with a mac
|
with a mac 10 in my lap with fat sack of that crack
|
took a hit of that shit and seen some niggas with a 4-5
|
So I let 'em have it bounce to the O you know trippin
|
on that Indonesian shit and a 9 millimeter for you to dump
|
and put one in your bitch and put her in her grave
|
with that empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
|
then bounce to that ounce
|
with a lack and a mac and a fat pack shit
|
I'm sicker than sick you niggas gotta admit when I
|
grab my shit you either gone or get caught with a hot one
|
nigga so rest in piss
|
(Chorus)
|
Just call me agent double O duece foe block
|
I got that 9 milli glock and ready to put one in your knot
|
"Rest in Piss" (Shit) (repeat 4x)
|
(verse 2)
|
(Brotha Lynch)
|
From the rep of the depth of the double O
|
duece foe block with a glock in my pocket
|
full of that sess you betta wear a bullet proof vest
|
When I'm match your set betta pack you a tech
|
cause I'm at your neck with a clip full of that shit
|
nigga don't trip when i put one in your dick that Ripgut Cannibal
|
Hannibal shit nigga nuts and guts all over my chest
|
and stomach running with no slack threw my strap in the back
|
twist me up a sack and I'm back on the block
|
kicking it with maniac the nigga that a maniac sicker than sick
|
when a clips in progress put on the ground
|
with a brain full of them nine slugs read him in Reader's Digest
|
uh I found a new love trickeling in my brain half of the doja
|
half of the OE half of the fact that i am insane nigga
|
it's that duece foe blockster
|
where niggas never put their glocks up
|
and get their cocks sucked nigga you just can't stop us
|
loc to the brain insane with a main game that will maintain
|
untouchable cut your throat and leave you in the street
|
with a lynch around your throat motherfucker
|
cause you ain't got no love foe the block
|
pop gotta hot foe that 24 street block
|
nigga that took a shot rest in piss
|
(Chorus)
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Rest In Piss
|
| Brotha Lynch Hung |
