Brotha Lynch Hung
Brotha Lynch Hung - Flippin' Chiccens lyrics
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[Chorus] We flip more birdies than Kernels chicken And I ain't shit without my niggas and my bitches Y'all can't see me, 3-D on T.V. We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's [x2] [C-Bo] Y'all niggas that don't know me why the loc be frontin? Just cuz 38 a day I'm bluntin, trey 8 for nuttin But incase for the waist for bustin, close range erase your bluffin Like major snuffin, blaze the oven Boiling hot everytime I drop Metaphor get caught get addiction like rock on the block And my glock closed down shop It's like "Cops" I'm a Bad Boy Catch me frontin back in the rag, boy C-Bo keep niggas all up in they peepholes But hold up I'm lethal like blowin up a Reagle Full of your people, Desert Eagles to your kids I'm sick and I can't help myself Somebody please help me before they melt me But naw dog you ever felt me So it's a must that I clutch guns pop pills To keep my feelings real, illings will but hold up It's a bust of the dough blow up I bet that I make the world get these Nike's like sho nuff [Chorus x2] [C-Bo] Teck, I'm Cowboy the pistol holder, the missile loader Call me Christmas, death wish under the missile toe-ah Off of Crys will I piss or throw up? They diss and load up Roll through the scene with a peace sign as they get blowed up Mob figure til I die, Westside off the roof with the bubble lie Y'all don't want no trouble, guy You rap about all that ice I could had that Grab that, make you stab that and blast that but I'ma pass that We ruthless, we get em up until they toothless Killin me on the West Coast nigga it's useless I run from Seattle to Dago with my lasso Callhourt to Paso, new force from that Avanal 29th Street to Avalon Long Beach, Compton, Watts, E.C's and Magnums 357, Ghost Town, Gebermona Hoovers and 6-O's the rest better get ghost Fuck with real niggas that bang Not a bitch ridin a dick or the next nigga gang With a teck that I stang from the neck to the brain When I step in the range I get respect you know I flame Boilin hot, make my gat roar on the spot Disrespect the block fuck how much they got, the cops When my weasle go pop you gets the last sound If he ain't dead when I dump then we beat his ass down [Chorus x2] [C-Bo] I pack two glocks, drop bodies with two shots Run a code if they got bitch it's gots on the rocks When my pen and pad connect, plaques I collect Then gats I collect to keep these nacks in check You wanna handle this with guns the stamina, son I run tons for Pamela, one show shit forget the dough I'm all in the get the blow Fully automatic, cuzz, you know how shit get go Flipmode when shit work more than a ship load And a grip flip like in a double zip code Your whole city locked down til the big bird drop Cut for the recoppin color gettin for the block Dancin, ballin snortin coke at the mansion Add a mill plus like what the fuck Ecstacy pills and kill, boy we play in the fields And that 4 mill we spent sittin way in the hills [Chorus x2]