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    Brotha Lynch Hung / Lyrics

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    "Return Of The Baby Killer" Lyrics

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    You better pray
    When you see me put that nine up in that pussy, ho
    Cock it back slow
    Rock it back and forth, wait for the nut, then let my trigger go
    Pussy-guts all over the room
    If you ain't seen it
    Then you're fiendin'
    For the meanin'
    Of that nina of doom
    2 inches in and, uh, 4 inches out
    You back that nigga that pack that gat
    And hit that indo-sack
    It's like that
    Cannabis seteva got me stuck on stump, fool
    All it take is a way, a fat green-bud blunt and a stunt
    Cause it's that nigga that work 'em nigga deep
    And block creep
    And witness murder, baby, kill a seed
    Once it'll make you vomit
    Guts in a mama's baby, nuts in a bottle, maybe it's common
    Biatches keep fuckin' and suckin' and keepin' it comin'
    With they drama. POP! It's baby killa season
    Put 6 in the clip, put it up that clit
    And watch them baby's brains
    Drip out that fetus
    Bleed, it's that nigga that kill 'em
    I'll fill 'em all full for that sicc reason
    Season of da siccness broodin', got me trippin' for no reason

    Guess what daddy's bringin' home for supper
    Nigga nuts and guts and slabs of human meat, motherfucker
    Now eat! Cause daddy's workin' hard for you, real, huh?
    Killas run around everyday that's why I'm hard for you, nigga!
    Now eat!

    As I creep, picture every human that I seek
    Slabs of human meat
    Cause my kids gotta eat
    I lives kinda deep, dark, up in tha cut
    Where niggas load nines, and barrel-fuck a slut
    Nigga, what? You ain't even seen me in my prime
    Eatin' baby brains, maby veins, maby spines
    I know they be cryin' when I'm cuttin' off the neck
    I'm peelin' off the skin for some bacon-fried croquettes
    Baby villain spine, that baby-killin' mind
    A fifth-pint of gin cause I know I'm doin' time
    So catch me now before I do my next crime
    My kids' gotta eat, somebody's baby's on the line, nigga


    Get ready for the nigga shit
    That siccer-than-sicc gut ripgut
    Pick-a-vic-up, fuck 'em up with a couple of nine-milla slugs
    And put 'em on the ground. Murder toll. Buck buck!
    Slugs to the womb
    Guts all over the room
    That legion of doom
    That S to the I-C-X
    With a locc and a tech for the throat
    and a neck full of gunsmoke it up, locc
    One for the nigga who kills them infants and senses
    Then this time, I hit 'em with a nine-millimeter, meter
    look me nigga me breakin up your skin
    Never knew nigga-meat cooked so thin!
    So I pack me a nine-milla gat
    And creep in the back of the 'Lac
    With a sack of the indo


    (verse 4 X-Raided)

    That's right, once upon a time
    A nigga that hella sicc up in the skids
    With a lie for the snitch
    As a victim's stoned, sayin' "I'll be bones to the pussy clits"
    They're a baby ditch to the mastermind
    Nine-millimeter shells, they're blind!
    Devils made a pact to fuck with match-to-heat, it's one of a kind
    Low enough to the shit got hella deep that I had to patch it
    To a soul who had the heart to put his mama in a casket
    Who could it be?
    where can he be
    Locked up in the county
    cause the bounty
    finally found a nigga like me?
    What's up, my nigga?
    Pull this trigger
    And take my muthafuckin' legacy
    But watch your back
    Niggas be claimin' that they sicc
    But really don't know which way to go when they be fuckin' up with my lunatic
    Shiiiit, have you ever seen your mama's cock? (yeah!)
    Have you even seen a body drop? (yeah!)
    Have you even loaded up your glock?
    Well, I could gives a fuck cause even then, nigga, you not my nigga
    From that 24 Garden Block
    That's doin' time
    For shootin' shadows up in the dark
    And tryin' to bite before he bark
    And when his heart stops
    From the metal blue blocks up in the cut
    They try to lynch my muthafucka to make some dice up out his nuts
    And what the fuck goes thru my nigga's mind up in his cell?
    That 24 Deep, no sleep, much stress, nigga
    Nigga must be livin' up in hell
    And here I am, same muthafucka that got my nigga sicc
    Tryin' to kill myself but slippin' more deeper into the siccness shit

    • submitted by ctw44 on October 11th, 2005

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