Spydie's Birth Lyrics
| Song | Spydie's Birth |
| Artist | Brotha Lynch Hung |
| Album | Lynch By Inch, Suicide Note |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Evil | |
| Yeah, I'm in the dark on these niggas... | |
| Okay [Verse 1] | |
| Maybe they don't know | |
| I'ma, O.E | |
| You just a king cobra straight | |
| No via satellite, it'd take more than a car battery to juice me | |
| Killa appetite, never catch me actin' right | |
| Smoke a two hundred sack a night, like an | |
| AK when I shoot these | |
| Please believe | |
| I pack it right, produce rapid stripes(?) | |
| They call me | |
| Randy Johnson, hundred and twenty miles an hour ...(?) | |
| Nigga you must be off that powder, | |
| I'm Spiderman | |
| Give me a blunt, pen, pad, and an hour, | |
| I'll make it shower | |
| My taliban, | |
| Siccmade Muzicc we keep it heated like | |
| Nascar (guess what) | |
| Plain and simple patna, fill up the clip and then blast ours | |
| Ain't no rippin shit, it's all | |
| S-I-double | |
| C, you trouble me | |
| I'm loco in the cabesa and | |
| I'm siccer than the rest-a | |
| I'll blow your chest up, he need an ambulance | |
| Two minutes left, he don't have a chance, not even half a chance | |
| Leave him with feces all in his pants when we pick him up | |
| I rip 'em up right out the dump truck 'cause | |
| I'm [Chorus] | |
| Spiderman, | |
| Spiderman, try'na see how much you know you can | |
| He sports the tec's, any size | |
| You playin' him close he might blow your mind | |
| He's deep in the cut, heat all around | |
| Tryin' to find him he's no where to be found | |
| Okay, here comes the | |
| Spiderman (Here comes the Spiderman...) [Verse 2] | |
| I'm like (?) snipers, | |
| I ain't try'na brag, but here | |
| You need these numbers to this place that be makin' body bags | |
| I'm the kamikaze magnum while | |
| I'm draggin' um | |
| To the spot, gotta get the ...(?) | |
| Like roast beef, nigga | |
| I ain't supposed to beef | |
| But I love meat and | |
| I got Sacramento enemies, | |
| So I love heat | |
| Got a sack of indo green leaves and | |
| I'm 'bout to twist it | |
| So move with me nigga, quick shit patna, you 'bout to miss it | |
| Now I don't smoke with them busted browns(?), | |
| I clutch the pounds | |
| And if you **** wid it | |
| I rub ya down | |
| With seventeen rounds, crack the everclear now | |
| Forever real now, spittin' at the whole crowd verbs and nouns | |
| And no felonies so | |
| I pack somethin' heavy | |
| I took the | |
| Chevy to the levy, two hundred and fifty pounds of red meat 'n feddy | |
| You got it twisted up like crazy | |
| Eddie ...(?) | |
| From two hundred and yards away | |
| I make ya head bleed steadily [Chorus] [Verse 3] | |
| Bet I could teach ya how to dissect your stomach muscles 'n eat 'em | |
| These days that ain't shit, cut 'em and bleed 'em | |
| I seen worse shit, **** em and feed em bloody spaghetti | |
| That Siccmade shit, cuddy get ready, bloody your | |
| Chevy interior quick | |
| Muddy your driveway, that's what | |
| I say **** it, you 'bout to die today | |
| Got a chopper in the hideaway, don't make me use it | |
| Off a half pipe(?) with the | |
| Ol' 8 English, don't make me lose it | |
| I'm cry baby locc, that's it | |
| I'm from the block where you learn at sixteen to load glocks, pack clips and smoke pot | |
| Slumpin' Tupac, ' | |
| Me Against | |
| The World' cuz it juice me | |
| I got episodes and episodes like | |
| Ricky and | |
| Lucy Drama shit, dead momma shit, don't give a **** shit | |
| Rough shit, shut you up in the back of the truck shit | |
| Them gangsta bitches love this, they jack off to it | |
| I'm Spiderman, bitch ass nigga | |
| I thought you knew this [Chorus x2] |
| zuo ci : Evil | |
| Yeah, I' m in the dark on these niggas... | |
| Okay Verse 1 | |
| Maybe they don' t know | |
| I' ma, O. E | |
| You just a king cobra straight | |
| No via satellite, it' d take more than a car battery to juice me | |
| Killa appetite, never catch me actin' right | |
| Smoke a two hundred sack a night, like an | |
| AK when I shoot these | |
| Please believe | |
| I pack it right, produce rapid stripes? | |
| They call me | |
| Randy Johnson, hundred and twenty miles an hour ...? | |
| Nigga you must be off that powder, | |
| I' m Spiderman | |
| Give me a blunt, pen, pad, and an hour, | |
| I' ll make it shower | |
| My taliban, | |
| Siccmade Muzicc we keep it heated like | |
| Nascar guess what | |
| Plain and simple patna, fill up the clip and then blast ours | |
| Ain' t no rippin shit, it' s all | |
| SIdouble | |
| C, you trouble me | |
| I' m loco in the cabesa and | |
| I' m siccer than the resta | |
| I' ll blow your chest up, he need an ambulance | |
| Two minutes left, he don' t have a chance, not even half a chance | |
| Leave him with feces all in his pants when we pick him up | |
| I rip ' em up right out the dump truck ' cause | |
| I' m Chorus | |
| Spiderman, | |
| Spiderman, try' na see how much you know you can | |
| He sports the tec' s, any size | |
| You playin' him close he might blow your mind | |
| He' s deep in the cut, heat all around | |
| Tryin' to find him he' s no where to be found | |
| Okay, here comes the | |
| Spiderman Here comes the Spiderman... Verse 2 | |
| I' m like ? snipers, | |
| I ain' t try' na brag, but here | |
| You need these numbers to this place that be makin' body bags | |
| I' m the kamikaze magnum while | |
| I' m draggin' um | |
| To the spot, gotta get the ...? | |
| Like roast beef, nigga | |
| I ain' t supposed to beef | |
| But I love meat and | |
| I got Sacramento enemies, | |
| So I love heat | |
| Got a sack of indo green leaves and | |
| I' m ' bout to twist it | |
| So move with me nigga, quick shit patna, you ' bout to miss it | |
| Now I don' t smoke with them busted browns?, | |
| I clutch the pounds | |
| And if you wid it | |
| I rub ya down | |
| With seventeen rounds, crack the everclear now | |
| Forever real now, spittin' at the whole crowd verbs and nouns | |
| And no felonies so | |
| I pack somethin' heavy | |
| I took the | |
| Chevy to the levy, two hundred and fifty pounds of red meat ' n feddy | |
| You got it twisted up like crazy | |
| Eddie ...? | |
| From two hundred and yards away | |
| I make ya head bleed steadily Chorus Verse 3 | |
| Bet I could teach ya how to dissect your stomach muscles ' n eat ' em | |
| These days that ain' t shit, cut ' em and bleed ' em | |
| I seen worse shit, em and feed em bloody spaghetti | |
| That Siccmade shit, cuddy get ready, bloody your | |
| Chevy interior quick | |
| Muddy your driveway, that' s what | |
| I say it, you ' bout to die today | |
| Got a chopper in the hideaway, don' t make me use it | |
| Off a half pipe? with the | |
| Ol' 8 English, don' t make me lose it | |
| I' m cry baby locc, that' s it | |
| I' m from the block where you learn at sixteen to load glocks, pack clips and smoke pot | |
| Slumpin' Tupac, ' | |
| Me Against | |
| The World' cuz it juice me | |
| I got episodes and episodes like | |
| Ricky and | |
| Lucy Drama shit, dead momma shit, don' t give a shit | |
| Rough shit, shut you up in the back of the truck shit | |
| Them gangsta bitches love this, they jack off to it | |
| I' m Spiderman, bitch ass nigga | |
| I thought you knew this Chorus x2 |
| zuò cí : Evil | |
| Yeah, I' m in the dark on these niggas... | |
| Okay Verse 1 | |
| Maybe they don' t know | |
| I' ma, O. E | |
| You just a king cobra straight | |
| No via satellite, it' d take more than a car battery to juice me | |
| Killa appetite, never catch me actin' right | |
| Smoke a two hundred sack a night, like an | |
| AK when I shoot these | |
| Please believe | |
| I pack it right, produce rapid stripes? | |
| They call me | |
| Randy Johnson, hundred and twenty miles an hour ...? | |
| Nigga you must be off that powder, | |
| I' m Spiderman | |
| Give me a blunt, pen, pad, and an hour, | |
| I' ll make it shower | |
| My taliban, | |
| Siccmade Muzicc we keep it heated like | |
| Nascar guess what | |
| Plain and simple patna, fill up the clip and then blast ours | |
| Ain' t no rippin shit, it' s all | |
| SIdouble | |
| C, you trouble me | |
| I' m loco in the cabesa and | |
| I' m siccer than the resta | |
| I' ll blow your chest up, he need an ambulance | |
| Two minutes left, he don' t have a chance, not even half a chance | |
| Leave him with feces all in his pants when we pick him up | |
| I rip ' em up right out the dump truck ' cause | |
| I' m Chorus | |
| Spiderman, | |
| Spiderman, try' na see how much you know you can | |
| He sports the tec' s, any size | |
| You playin' him close he might blow your mind | |
| He' s deep in the cut, heat all around | |
| Tryin' to find him he' s no where to be found | |
| Okay, here comes the | |
| Spiderman Here comes the Spiderman... Verse 2 | |
| I' m like ? snipers, | |
| I ain' t try' na brag, but here | |
| You need these numbers to this place that be makin' body bags | |
| I' m the kamikaze magnum while | |
| I' m draggin' um | |
| To the spot, gotta get the ...? | |
| Like roast beef, nigga | |
| I ain' t supposed to beef | |
| But I love meat and | |
| I got Sacramento enemies, | |
| So I love heat | |
| Got a sack of indo green leaves and | |
| I' m ' bout to twist it | |
| So move with me nigga, quick shit patna, you ' bout to miss it | |
| Now I don' t smoke with them busted browns?, | |
| I clutch the pounds | |
| And if you wid it | |
| I rub ya down | |
| With seventeen rounds, crack the everclear now | |
| Forever real now, spittin' at the whole crowd verbs and nouns | |
| And no felonies so | |
| I pack somethin' heavy | |
| I took the | |
| Chevy to the levy, two hundred and fifty pounds of red meat ' n feddy | |
| You got it twisted up like crazy | |
| Eddie ...? | |
| From two hundred and yards away | |
| I make ya head bleed steadily Chorus Verse 3 | |
| Bet I could teach ya how to dissect your stomach muscles ' n eat ' em | |
| These days that ain' t shit, cut ' em and bleed ' em | |
| I seen worse shit, em and feed em bloody spaghetti | |
| That Siccmade shit, cuddy get ready, bloody your | |
| Chevy interior quick | |
| Muddy your driveway, that' s what | |
| I say it, you ' bout to die today | |
| Got a chopper in the hideaway, don' t make me use it | |
| Off a half pipe? with the | |
| Ol' 8 English, don' t make me lose it | |
| I' m cry baby locc, that' s it | |
| I' m from the block where you learn at sixteen to load glocks, pack clips and smoke pot | |
| Slumpin' Tupac, ' | |
| Me Against | |
| The World' cuz it juice me | |
| I got episodes and episodes like | |
| Ricky and | |
| Lucy Drama shit, dead momma shit, don' t give a shit | |
| Rough shit, shut you up in the back of the truck shit | |
| Them gangsta bitches love this, they jack off to it | |
| I' m Spiderman, bitch ass nigga | |
| I thought you knew this Chorus x2 |
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