Brotha Lynch Hung, C-Bo - Flippin' Chiccens lyrics

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
We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's

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

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
We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's

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
We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's

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'mma 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

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
We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's

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
We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's

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

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
We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's

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
We the T-H-U-G-L-O-R-D's