Brotha Lynch Hung
Brotha Lynch Hung - Money, Power, Respect lyrics
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C-Bo, Floss B, hehe yeah money, power, respect Yeah yeah uh huh, uh huh West Coast uh huh West Coast uh huh Other side you know how we ride, uh what? [Vesre One] Oh my god, times here are so hard Baby brothers in trouble and mothers got no cards The oldest of the pack got to bring the food back I'm packin a magnum on one of the hottest corners, movin sacks Duckin from one-times, life in the blind got me pointin 9's Squeezing triggers for freedom and dimes My homie Tone caught a bullet in his chest They said they heard he was pullin in the west Retaliation is a must that we run em down Wit fully loaded high powered rifles and gun em down Everyday in my city some where someone bites the dust If you here hope you with a city nigga you be trust [Chorus x2] We down for Money, Power, Respect How much you hold on yo neck? How much you roll on that Lex? [Verse Two] You know it's crackin on the Southside so I hopped in my Reagle With the homie Lil Stoke and ofcourse my Desert Eagles And it's like an All-Star Game I mean we 10 to 1 with business And we platinum down surrounded by killers sittin on switches Ain't that a bitch? You set trip you bound to get set I'ma get my respect nigga I don't give a fuck what town it is Cuz I'ma respect yours and you gon' respect mines And if it ain't correct I'ma check with the tech 9 Nigga I'm a Thug Lord ask my mama Yeah these niggas got it made but they don't want no mutha fuckin mama No fuckin drama, no comma As I bounce in my rounce with a mirror on the trunk of my big black ass [Chorus x2] [Verse Three] Connect the dots I done shot through my enemies spot Then you can plot to get half of the stripes that I got My Chuck T's tounges tucked, hung for the sprung clubs Duck or get struck, no luck with this young buck Young truck, how the fuck I look in the sell stuck? Dick in a man's hands gettin my nuts sucked I'm bossed bangin, leavin all those crossed hangin Slangin death at a high cost, that's nina ross hangin Do, re, me, fa, so, la, say hola to the misses Bow down and kiss this pistola Run up wit ya gun up and get done up I'm one up, from sun down to sun up I ain't givin none up [Chorus x4]