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<[grisly voice] |
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Yeah, the baby killas back up in this motha****a... |
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Straight from tha grave, it gets so deep right under the garden blocc... |
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Oh, me? ya can just call me manson...yeah, we met before... |
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But ya forget that I aint gonna die so Im back up this motha****a... |
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So peep the motha****in words from the dead man, yeah... |
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[brotha lynch hung] |
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And when I pack me a gun and, oh, when I was young |
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I dreamed of feedin them niggas niggas with a ? ? ? ? ? |
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Motha****as get hung, my bullet weights a ton |
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The garden blocc don, the valley of the slum |
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Tha cannibalistic nigga that got that 9 millimeter gun |
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That nigga that nigga that got them motha****as on the run |
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They thought that I was done but lynch is not the one |
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To go out from a gunshot wound, nigga, Im not done that soon |
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Bitches, they come but nut just like the rest, caught one in the chest |
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Shoulda wore a vest and, oh, what a bloody mess |
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Puffin off the cess, dealin with the stress, killin off the less... |
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Fortunate but they trip when my nine gets sick |
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Them niggas either die or stay stuck on my dick |
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Cause Im that nigga they call lynch, I gotem niggas fiendin for my shit |
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I empty clips, drinkin, ****in with tha splift |
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And its the nigga that kill for reason, its the season of the sicc |
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Thats why I got the urge to shoot that pussy clit |
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And kill off that infant, so what is my intent? |
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To show them motha****as livin life aint shit |
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I gets to gettin real sick and eatin bloody clit, the baby killa shit |
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Put em in a grave with an empty 40 ounce bottle and dont leave a drip |
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Cause livin with tha tripple-six |
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Ya learn to **** devil in his mouth and eat the shit out of his bitch |
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And I admit: my brain is kinda sick |
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But now Im like j. dahmer, Im chewin up all the evidence |
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I killed to cure my fit, the human meat fix |
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Bitin to the skin rips, that sick nigga, so sick |
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Livin dead ever since... |
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[grisly voice] |
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Yeah, do ya wanna know what that siccness is? |
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The siccness is when you hug your mama and ya dick get hard |
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Or you walk in on your babys mama and shes suckin your sons dick |
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Thats the motha****in siccness... |
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So, ya motha****as dont ya forget that shit... |
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And dont forget where the sicc came from... |
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That nigga lynch... |
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[brotha lynch hung] |
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I take my mouth off up that cog and trip |
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Cause eatin dead pussy clit I make ya sick |
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But its the season so my reason is legit |
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Im havin fits, I dreamed of eatin bloody pussy clits since I was six |
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I fiend for a dead pussy on dick, I gotta skits |
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Meanin I dont give a shit about ya biyatch |
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That nigga thats from tha blocc, killin up tha cog, so, nigga, shii-it |
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Baby barbeque ribs and guts and, ah, dont let me get too deep |
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Fryin baby nuts, sluts get ate out alike, dank is what crooked teeth heard |
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I pull the tampax-string out and straight put in work |
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It wouldnt work without that sick, so page a nigga quick |
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So I can serve ya some of this shit and have ya murderin ya biyatch |
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Cause me and triple-six grew up ****in bitches up the gut |
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With tha 9-millimeter clip, season of the sicc, picture this: |
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Pussy meat ripped in a pan full of nuts and guts and intestines and shit |
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I gets ta chewin on tha clit, the sick, they just dont understand it |
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Its so outlandish, chewin nigga nuts to cure my fit |
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The human meat fix, bitin til the skin rips, that sick nigga, so sick |
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Livin dead ever since...> |
