Verse 1
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We can go one on one
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tango with the brotha lynch hung.
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I come from under the garden,
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looney retarded pull it out
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and make ya heart split eatin
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ya carcass. Now who think they
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the hardest? Start it we can load
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those cartridges. Niggas know me
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it's that nigga that's in the casket.
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It's my bedroom no it aint cause I
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got blasted as you quicc and learn
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call me the west best. red like
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asbestos test us get two to the chest
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Yes i'm a bowl the hole in ya victimized
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holdin that ice picc steady cloccin
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them victims eyes now you really couldn't
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see me be me i'm spreadin this siccness
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easy like it's a VD i'm a hit niggas up
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like creepy please believe me rappers
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picc up the cd and they find out they
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beneath me on the franchise like Keke
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Vandaway put the body in the plastic
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and drive the van away.
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Chorus X2
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With no D.J. with out my D.J.
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With no D.J. with out my D.J.
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With no D.J. with out my D.J.
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With no D.J. with out my with out
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Verse 2
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Now all the ladies in the house
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throw ya M's up made sicc music
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till they lay a nigga in the cut
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I wish I could pull you on stage
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and put it in the butt, but shit
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goes down I might have to shoot
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your man up since he claimed he
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was a fan of lynch, but now he
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didn't share his bitch now he's
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out the picture like fucc that
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nigga knife rippin that trigga
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right aye meet me at the car
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I'm a make sure it hit you right
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you dicc van dyke i'm a get the
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clip that night A.K.A act right
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put a bullet up in yo gut side
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then I'm a step slide over to
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6 fo I'm a skitzo paccin a pistol
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opposite of his skull cause I hit
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fast rip grass get glass quicc fast
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shit last to long now I got the tool on
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it's goin down i'm bout to shoot up
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the place embed it up down i'm about
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to shoot up ya face then i'm a burn
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up the tapes I'm a motha fuccin serial
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killa puttin that poisonin in ya baby's
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mommas cereal here we go all up in ya
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stereo like a vanerial hot like lava
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partna pop you up in the saliva buccet
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fucc it I'm a gangsta I do what I do
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I'm blacc when I'm blacc I'm definitely blue
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when I'm blue. Who wanted who what's with
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it my nigga I dig ditches real fishes
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this is the siccness you missin pissin
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this shit and ya stomach's splittin
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Chorus
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Lynch Speakin:
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yeah this songs dedicated to the real spittas
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in the game shouts out to lil buttpain we in
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the top five spittas of all time my nigga
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holla at cha boy
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-----------------
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No D.J.
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Brotha Lynch Hung |