Break Ya Loccs - Brotha Lynch Hung/Yukmouth/JV
About to leave the studio it's 9-11 2002
Up in here wid my ni**a C-O once again
Ya know what I'm sayin
And the motherf**kin' bad news is
What Suspicion is back
You know here we go
I got that spit venom sh*t that'll
Wrinkle up ya denim sh*t
F**k them niggaz they all hoes
I run up in them quick
Turn 'em into statues
Lead tattoos I stay
Twenty four deep and bring
Niggaz the bad news like
The Metro Section
I spit petrol like gas nozzles
Bang wid my thangs ni**a
You the last models
From the Garden to
The creep module
I'm off the bottle makin'
Money like I won the lotto
You wanna follow wid ya tongue stickin'
Out ready to lick these nuts
Had a dream watchin' me get out
The four door to get these guts
I spit flames
Beat niggaz like Rick James get aim
Cause like Pac's attraction I grip thangs
And it's hard and cold it'll
Make ya heart a cold
I sweat so much I'm so hot
I'm hard to hold
And I'll tell you somethin'
Else fool Suspicion for life
Have you comin' home from
Work late missin' ya wife
And ya kids and ya cribs tore up
I leave ya ribs tore up
Nuttin' else better I do
Than cut up cold cuts
I'm a meat eatin'
Skin collector been connected
Wid some niggaz that'll cut you
In the neck and leave you butt naked
Layin' dead in ya Lexus
What you doing
Fryin' niggaz like they
Do out in Texas Why
Lyin' to niggaz cause they fakin' the love
You be the one takin' the slug
And you show me that you ain't
Got no love for me I'm done cuz
Niggaz that say they real fake as f**k
Have you left set up dead in a vacant lot
No matter what they can
Talk all that gangsta sh*t
If ya gangsta walk still ain't sh*t
I break ya loccs and run up in yo sh*t
Niggaz that say they real fake as f**k
Have you left set up dead in a vacant lot
No matter what they can
Talk all that gangsta sh*t
If ya gangsta walk still ain't sh*t
I break ya loccs and run up in yo sh*t
Look we roll sh*t blow sh*t
I been blue sh*t
Old sh*t new sh*t keep it true sh*t
Always in a blue fit and old school kicks
Posted where they move
Bricks if it was me quick
I sold sh*t stole sh*t
I had to move sh*t
Old sh*t new sh*t
To keep a few chips
Man my life wasn't nothin' sweet
At fifteen years old was
Livin' out on the street
With rocks between my teeth
Like where the f**k I'm gon' sleep
Grandmomma don't want me and
I ain't seen dad for weeks
And momma ain't never been there for me
It's like she probably never
Cared to shed a tear for me
So now the whole world's like a glare to me
Through all these hard times
Can barely see prepared to leave
But I dare one of these cats
Wid no haps for they fame
This rap's for the tracks yeh
They wack but they flames
Tryna dirty up my name
I leave 'em stained
Gunshots to middle of they brain
I leave 'em drained
Duck cops from here to the gate
I leave 'em dazed
Bust shots at all of them
Cops this sh*t be crazed
Cause f**k goin' back to that
Place I take the grave
Whether you see me go
Out ridin' or as a slave
Just look at how they got us
Dealin' wid drama
F**k it pour another shot of that
Vodka load up the chopper
Niggaz that say they real fake as f**k
Have you left set up dead in a vacant lot
No matter what they can
Talk all that gangsta sh*t
If ya gangsta walk still ain't sh*t
I break ya loccs and run up in yo sh*t
Niggaz that say they real fake as f**k
Have you left set up dead in a vacant lot
No matter what they can
Talk all that gangsta sh*t
If ya gangsta walk still ain't sh*t
I break ya loccs and run up in yo sh*t
I'm young black sh*t wid mack sh*t
In the back sh*t make 'em do back flips
You must be off that crack sh*t
F**kin' wid the tactics got
Spitz like a gat spit
And I'm gonna rip a ni**a
To bits for instance
I burn incense and think about sh*t
I don't need your ten cents juts
Break 'em right quick
Shake 'em right quick
Make 'em bite dick
You suck lug nuts ya love nuts I plug stuff
Cut guts up
Ya tough luck punk
F**kin' wid flames around gas
Heat enough heat to cook
Ya turkey fried deep like
Louisiana blow sacks like
Santana might
Run up in ya spot with the
Dark blue bandana right
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