|
Brotha Lynch Hung - Welcome 2 Your Own Death lyrics
As I bail through the woods of the southside Terrors on nine milli chrome kill alone cause I trust no snitch When I peel a dome and bail Gone like hell right through the do I'm rollin' a fat sack of red boogy boo, nigga ooh Watch me bail nigga but you don't see me though Cause I'm rollin' fat sacks in the back of my vehicle But takin' a puff of the dank stuff and enough that double O-A-E dooz me I'm slowly loadin' up the oozy Well now who's he Well it's that dead motherfucker doe Well whatcha know comin' through with that murder mo And I heard you know now whose been bustin' up on the garden block You either give up the information, nigga I get shots, so nigga nah WHAT! I guess you wanna dose of this milla Twenty-four shots from that mommas baby killa Nigga mack hustla, cap busta, infact I'm just a mack ten Bustin' em at your chin before I crept nigga Welcome to your own death Chorus x6 Nigga welcome to your own death (BUCK! For them who don't know bout loc to da brain Them got them nine millimeter strap and true is the game) x2 So niggas miss my sicc Some niggas don't know me, niggas don't know my click That O-loc-double-C-O-G rip gut canibal type of shit Plus many more caps bust Anymore sacks to roll up, we need that high back So niggas done load them nins and pull them high jacks And lie back in the cut and roll another fat one up Tack one up for loc to the brain Them niggas that really don't give a fuck Around and get buck, shot it up and dump in a truck and left in a cut So nigga now whatcha gon do with a mini mack ten ten at yo gut Plus niggas nuts and guts is what I rips for Creepin' up in a six four impala Mobbin' a loots all up to make you vomit from the raw gut cause Nah what I do is let my nine do the talkin' Leavin' you walkin' to your funeral low Diggin'? yo smoke from the mack 1-0 I had ya pussin' just in case I got me a mack eleven for your face that's leavin' no trace Caps leavin' a gate and puttin' holes in a niggas neck So watch the reeper when I creep crept Welcome to your own death Chorus x6 When I hit the block with a nine Them fools better be duckin' My nigga duck got out the car and started buckin' at niggas runnin' untraceable gage shells Only worriers goin' to hell And 5-0 they just can't swoop See cause we mobbin' too well My murder file done pile more than a nigga expected See cause have of the city of Sac still ain't accepted That I'm a pack and when I'm sweated I'ma put in work Cause my O-T told me why Jesus got to kick up some dirt And I'm tired of warnin' a motherfucker about a nigga like me When it's hard to believe the nine millimeter comin' out my pants gonna make you dance See that's the city and it's making a motherfucker stress Gotta watch your back like 24-7 unless you wanna be livin' the rest of your life Up in a cemetery die nigga die you'll repeat until you're buried That nine millimeter givin' no motherfuckin' respect Up on your back with your last breathe Welcome to your own death Chorus x6 |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Lovers Live by Sade |
 It Ain't What U Wear It's How U Play It by Another Bad Creation |
 Payback by Brownside |
 Memory Almost Full by Paul McCartney |
 Years Later by Soulja Slim |
