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]
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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

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Language: English

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