Brotha Lynch Hung - Welcome 2 Your Own Death lyrics
[Brotha Lynch Hung - Welcome 2 Your Own Death lyrics]
As I bail through the woods of the southside
Terrors on nine milli chrome kill alone
Cause I trust no snitch
When I peel a dome and bail
Gone like hell right through the do
I'm rollin' a fat sack of red boogy boo
Nigga ooh
Watch me bail nigga but you
Don't see me though
Cause I'm rollin' fat sacks in
The back of my vehicle
But takin' a puff of the dank stuff
And enough that double O-A-E dooz me
I'm slowly loadin' up the oozy
Well now who's he
Well it's that dead motherfucker doe
Well whatcha know comin' through
With that murder mo
And I heard you know now whose been
Bustin' up on the garden block
You either give up the information
Nigga I get shots, so nigga nah WHAT!
I guess you wanna dose of this milla
Twenty-four shots from that mommas baby killa
Nigga mack hustla
Cap busta, infact I'm just a mack ten
Bustin' em at your chin before I crept nigga
Welcome to your own death
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know
Bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap
And true is the game)
So niggas miss my sicc
Some niggas don't know me
Niggas don't know my click
That O-loc-double-C-O-G rip gut canibal
Type of shit
Plus many more caps bust
Anymore sacks to roll up
We need that high back
So niggas done load them nins
And pull them high jacks
And lie back in the cut and
Roll another fat one up
Tack one up for loc to the brain
Them niggas that really don't give a fuck
Around and get buck
Shot it up and dump in a
Truck and left in a cut
So nigga now whatcha gon do with a
Mini mack ten ten at yo gut
Plus niggas nuts and guts is what I rips for
Creepin' up in a six four impala
Mobbin' a loots all up to make you
Vomit from the raw gut cause
Nah what I do is let my nine do the talkin'
Leavin' you walkin' to your funeral low
Diggin'? yo smoke from the mack 1-0
I had ya pussin' just in case
I got me a mack eleven for
Your face that's leavin' no trace
Caps leavin' a gate and puttin'
Holes in a niggas neck
So watch the reeper when I creep crept
Welcome to your own death
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know
Bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap
And true is the game)
When I hit the block with a nine
Them fools better be duckin'
My nigga duck got out the car
And started buckin' at niggas runnin'
Untraceable gage shells
Only worriers goin' to hell
And 5-0 they just can't swoop
See cause we mobbin' too well
My murder file done pile more
Than a nigga expected
See cause have of the city
Of Sac still ain't accepted
That I'm a pack and when I'm
Sweated I'ma put in work
Cause my O-T told me why Jesus
Got to kick up some dirt
And I'm tired of warnin' a motherfucker
About a nigga like me
When it's hard to believe
The nine millimeter comin' out my
Pants gonna make you dance
See that's the city and it's
Making a motherfucker stress
Gotta watch your back like 24-7
Unless you wanna be livin' the
Rest of your life
Up in a cemetery die nigga die
You'll repeat until you're buried
That nine millimeter givin'
No motherfuckin' respect
Up on your back with your last breathe
Welcome to your own death
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know
Bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap
And true is the game)
Terrors on nine milli chrome kill alone
Cause I trust no snitch
When I peel a dome and bail
Gone like hell right through the do
I'm rollin' a fat sack of red boogy boo
Nigga ooh
Watch me bail nigga but you
Don't see me though
Cause I'm rollin' fat sacks in
The back of my vehicle
But takin' a puff of the dank stuff
And enough that double O-A-E dooz me
I'm slowly loadin' up the oozy
Well now who's he
Well it's that dead motherfucker doe
Well whatcha know comin' through
With that murder mo
And I heard you know now whose been
Bustin' up on the garden block
You either give up the information
Nigga I get shots, so nigga nah WHAT!
I guess you wanna dose of this milla
Twenty-four shots from that mommas baby killa
Nigga mack hustla
Cap busta, infact I'm just a mack ten
Bustin' em at your chin before I crept nigga
Welcome to your own death
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know
Bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap
And true is the game)
So niggas miss my sicc
Some niggas don't know me
Niggas don't know my click
That O-loc-double-C-O-G rip gut canibal
Type of shit
Plus many more caps bust
Anymore sacks to roll up
We need that high back
So niggas done load them nins
And pull them high jacks
And lie back in the cut and
Roll another fat one up
Tack one up for loc to the brain
Them niggas that really don't give a fuck
Around and get buck
Shot it up and dump in a
Truck and left in a cut
So nigga now whatcha gon do with a
Mini mack ten ten at yo gut
Plus niggas nuts and guts is what I rips for
Creepin' up in a six four impala
Mobbin' a loots all up to make you
Vomit from the raw gut cause
Nah what I do is let my nine do the talkin'
Leavin' you walkin' to your funeral low
Diggin'? yo smoke from the mack 1-0
I had ya pussin' just in case
I got me a mack eleven for
Your face that's leavin' no trace
Caps leavin' a gate and puttin'
Holes in a niggas neck
So watch the reeper when I creep crept
Welcome to your own death
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know
Bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap
And true is the game)
When I hit the block with a nine
Them fools better be duckin'
My nigga duck got out the car
And started buckin' at niggas runnin'
Untraceable gage shells
Only worriers goin' to hell
And 5-0 they just can't swoop
See cause we mobbin' too well
My murder file done pile more
Than a nigga expected
See cause have of the city
Of Sac still ain't accepted
That I'm a pack and when I'm
Sweated I'ma put in work
Cause my O-T told me why Jesus
Got to kick up some dirt
And I'm tired of warnin' a motherfucker
About a nigga like me
When it's hard to believe
The nine millimeter comin' out my
Pants gonna make you dance
See that's the city and it's
Making a motherfucker stress
Gotta watch your back like 24-7
Unless you wanna be livin' the
Rest of your life
Up in a cemetery die nigga die
You'll repeat until you're buried
That nine millimeter givin'
No motherfuckin' respect
Up on your back with your last breathe
Welcome to your own death
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don't know
Bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap
And true is the game)