Bleeding House Mystery Lyrics
| Song | Bleeding House Mystery |
| Artist | Brotha Lynch Hung |
| Album | Lynch By Inch, Suicide Note |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Lokei | |
| Must be some leakage in my click, some niggas done ran up in my shit | |
| Forced to use the fo-fifth, leavin 'em layin' in | |
| Ol 8 English piss | |
| Got me all stressin' and sick, pickin' up bodies 'n draggin 'em, body baggin 'em | |
| Try'na get it all done before the wagon come stashin' them | |
| Aye put Scarface on the | |
| T.V, put the volume up to ten and a half | |
| That way when the police come, | |
| Al Pacino bustin' caps | |
| I got away with a killin', it was self defence | |
| Had to rinse niggas off the hallway walls, send my hate out to all they dogs | |
| Yellin' like a psycho when | |
| I pulled it | |
| It was cuttin' every bullet plenty of full clips | |
| **** em, feed em tef' tips | |
| Got a tool kit, filled of kill em up shit | |
| I be puttin' niggas on the ground wid it, **** niggas who ain't down wid it | |
| They can hit the back door, see | |
| I'ma handle this | |
| I'm so scandalous, like a preacher to teach ya of this (?) shit | |
| If I gotta trip, | |
| I'ma heat ya and eat ya | |
| I swear I'm serious, herious, feriously hittin' chest plates | |
| I hit them niggas up quick and have it all cleaned up by the next day [Chorus: Brotha Lynch] | |
| See I was shootin' through the hallway | |
| Try'na hit everything in sight | |
| Thinkin' in my mind | |
| I knew this shit could happen one night | |
| Gotta hit that one right, when | |
| I hit that one left | |
| And I'm in the room fillin' up the wycelf, quiet steps - | |
| Boom! Mutha****a what'chu doin' here, don't you know | |
| I got kids? | |
| Hold up, he ain't dead yet, one mo' to the ribs | |
| Try'na get body parts to relatives, like nigga you don't get it? | |
| I cut when | |
| I hit it, nigga nuts 'n guts ripped when | |
| I did it [Verse 2: Zigg Zagg] | |
| Night after night, | |
| I had another thought of destruction | |
| Until this evening, couldn't believe it ran up in my home with the heat, buckin | |
| My baby's watchin' it, front row seated, with the chrome to the (?) momma | |
| No pain right now, but later on down the line with the head drama | |
| Didn't expect this to happen to me but this evening was heated | |
| When I walked outta the bedroom, witnessed 'em flash by deep and all black eye ...(?) | |
| I mean five or six of 'em, strapped, with the nine-milla to my face | |
| I (?) the hallway, backed up, and ran to the closet for the 12 gauge | |
| What could | |
| I do right now beside let it all surface | |
| Then come **** up your shit on purpose, | |
| I got your whole system nervous | |
| But you lied to me compulsive, hit me the hardest like explosives into your underground | |
| Black Market recordin' shit, get focused | |
| Dis Siccmade, can't nothin' possibly take that away | |
| But if you make me mad, | |
| I get that rage | |
| Inflict pain, then make arrangements | |
| Labelled the most wanted, the most dangerous | |
| Wake up out of a dead sleep, walkin' to the murder | |
| Then flamed the rush [Chorus x1] [Verse 3: Brotha Lynch] | |
| See now it's two weeks later, | |
| I had to cut like a cheese grater | |
| Did in all black like a | |
| Raider and hit niggas up like a pager, red beam laser | |
| My trust got all ****ed up so now | |
| I'm watchin' the lights behind me | |
| Tuckin' the metal stuff, try'na get that shit behind me | |
| Testin' my ghetto luck, in the streets | |
| Zigg Zagg, my crimey | |
| We lookin' for that prime meat | |
| We lookin' for that man that plotted the crime to try to tie my life span, splatter my pipe dream | |
| Leave you stiff like a mic stand | |
| Yeah I'm the | |
| Burbank titan, whether you likin' it or not | |
| Grew up right out of 24th street, yeah some call it the block | |
| And when they first hit the locks, see | |
| I was shot | |
| All I saw was chrome and niggas in black ski masks, comin' in my home | |
| They try'na take my money, they try'na get paid, so | |
| I don't blame 'em | |
| But I wish | |
| I had the chopper to put the flame to 'em | |
| But I didn't, just a hand pistol, same doin', bone gristle | |
| Came to 'em, dumpin at shadows, and | |
| I was havin' shoot-out battles [Chorus x2] |
| zuo ci : Lokei | |
| Must be some leakage in my click, some niggas done ran up in my shit | |
| Forced to use the fofifth, leavin ' em layin' in | |
| Ol 8 English piss | |
| Got me all stressin' and sick, pickin' up bodies ' n draggin ' em, body baggin ' em | |
| Try' na get it all done before the wagon come stashin' them | |
| Aye put Scarface on the | |
| T. V, put the volume up to ten and a half | |
| That way when the police come, | |
| Al Pacino bustin' caps | |
| I got away with a killin', it was self defence | |
| Had to rinse niggas off the hallway walls, send my hate out to all they dogs | |
| Yellin' like a psycho when | |
| I pulled it | |
| It was cuttin' every bullet plenty of full clips | |
| em, feed em tef' tips | |
| Got a tool kit, filled of kill em up shit | |
| I be puttin' niggas on the ground wid it, niggas who ain' t down wid it | |
| They can hit the back door, see | |
| I' ma handle this | |
| I' m so scandalous, like a preacher to teach ya of this ? shit | |
| If I gotta trip, | |
| I' ma heat ya and eat ya | |
| I swear I' m serious, herious, feriously hittin' chest plates | |
| I hit them niggas up quick and have it all cleaned up by the next day Chorus: Brotha Lynch | |
| See I was shootin' through the hallway | |
| Try' na hit everything in sight | |
| Thinkin' in my mind | |
| I knew this shit could happen one night | |
| Gotta hit that one right, when | |
| I hit that one left | |
| And I' m in the room fillin' up the wycelf, quiet steps | |
| Boom! Mutha a what' chu doin' here, don' t you know | |
| I got kids? | |
| Hold up, he ain' t dead yet, one mo' to the ribs | |
| Try' na get body parts to relatives, like nigga you don' t get it? | |
| I cut when | |
| I hit it, nigga nuts ' n guts ripped when | |
| I did it Verse 2: Zigg Zagg | |
| Night after night, | |
| I had another thought of destruction | |
| Until this evening, couldn' t believe it ran up in my home with the heat, buckin | |
| My baby' s watchin' it, front row seated, with the chrome to the ? momma | |
| No pain right now, but later on down the line with the head drama | |
| Didn' t expect this to happen to me but this evening was heated | |
| When I walked outta the bedroom, witnessed ' em flash by deep and all black eye ...? | |
| I mean five or six of ' em, strapped, with the ninemilla to my face | |
| I ? the hallway, backed up, and ran to the closet for the 12 gauge | |
| What could | |
| I do right now beside let it all surface | |
| Then come up your shit on purpose, | |
| I got your whole system nervous | |
| But you lied to me compulsive, hit me the hardest like explosives into your underground | |
| Black Market recordin' shit, get focused | |
| Dis Siccmade, can' t nothin' possibly take that away | |
| But if you make me mad, | |
| I get that rage | |
| Inflict pain, then make arrangements | |
| Labelled the most wanted, the most dangerous | |
| Wake up out of a dead sleep, walkin' to the murder | |
| Then flamed the rush Chorus x1 Verse 3: Brotha Lynch | |
| See now it' s two weeks later, | |
| I had to cut like a cheese grater | |
| Did in all black like a | |
| Raider and hit niggas up like a pager, red beam laser | |
| My trust got all ed up so now | |
| I' m watchin' the lights behind me | |
| Tuckin' the metal stuff, try' na get that shit behind me | |
| Testin' my ghetto luck, in the streets | |
| Zigg Zagg, my crimey | |
| We lookin' for that prime meat | |
| We lookin' for that man that plotted the crime to try to tie my life span, splatter my pipe dream | |
| Leave you stiff like a mic stand | |
| Yeah I' m the | |
| Burbank titan, whether you likin' it or not | |
| Grew up right out of 24th street, yeah some call it the block | |
| And when they first hit the locks, see | |
| I was shot | |
| All I saw was chrome and niggas in black ski masks, comin' in my home | |
| They try' na take my money, they try' na get paid, so | |
| I don' t blame ' em | |
| But I wish | |
| I had the chopper to put the flame to ' em | |
| But I didn' t, just a hand pistol, same doin', bone gristle | |
| Came to ' em, dumpin at shadows, and | |
| I was havin' shootout battles Chorus x2 |
| zuò cí : Lokei | |
| Must be some leakage in my click, some niggas done ran up in my shit | |
| Forced to use the fofifth, leavin ' em layin' in | |
| Ol 8 English piss | |
| Got me all stressin' and sick, pickin' up bodies ' n draggin ' em, body baggin ' em | |
| Try' na get it all done before the wagon come stashin' them | |
| Aye put Scarface on the | |
| T. V, put the volume up to ten and a half | |
| That way when the police come, | |
| Al Pacino bustin' caps | |
| I got away with a killin', it was self defence | |
| Had to rinse niggas off the hallway walls, send my hate out to all they dogs | |
| Yellin' like a psycho when | |
| I pulled it | |
| It was cuttin' every bullet plenty of full clips | |
| em, feed em tef' tips | |
| Got a tool kit, filled of kill em up shit | |
| I be puttin' niggas on the ground wid it, niggas who ain' t down wid it | |
| They can hit the back door, see | |
| I' ma handle this | |
| I' m so scandalous, like a preacher to teach ya of this ? shit | |
| If I gotta trip, | |
| I' ma heat ya and eat ya | |
| I swear I' m serious, herious, feriously hittin' chest plates | |
| I hit them niggas up quick and have it all cleaned up by the next day Chorus: Brotha Lynch | |
| See I was shootin' through the hallway | |
| Try' na hit everything in sight | |
| Thinkin' in my mind | |
| I knew this shit could happen one night | |
| Gotta hit that one right, when | |
| I hit that one left | |
| And I' m in the room fillin' up the wycelf, quiet steps | |
| Boom! Mutha a what' chu doin' here, don' t you know | |
| I got kids? | |
| Hold up, he ain' t dead yet, one mo' to the ribs | |
| Try' na get body parts to relatives, like nigga you don' t get it? | |
| I cut when | |
| I hit it, nigga nuts ' n guts ripped when | |
| I did it Verse 2: Zigg Zagg | |
| Night after night, | |
| I had another thought of destruction | |
| Until this evening, couldn' t believe it ran up in my home with the heat, buckin | |
| My baby' s watchin' it, front row seated, with the chrome to the ? momma | |
| No pain right now, but later on down the line with the head drama | |
| Didn' t expect this to happen to me but this evening was heated | |
| When I walked outta the bedroom, witnessed ' em flash by deep and all black eye ...? | |
| I mean five or six of ' em, strapped, with the ninemilla to my face | |
| I ? the hallway, backed up, and ran to the closet for the 12 gauge | |
| What could | |
| I do right now beside let it all surface | |
| Then come up your shit on purpose, | |
| I got your whole system nervous | |
| But you lied to me compulsive, hit me the hardest like explosives into your underground | |
| Black Market recordin' shit, get focused | |
| Dis Siccmade, can' t nothin' possibly take that away | |
| But if you make me mad, | |
| I get that rage | |
| Inflict pain, then make arrangements | |
| Labelled the most wanted, the most dangerous | |
| Wake up out of a dead sleep, walkin' to the murder | |
| Then flamed the rush Chorus x1 Verse 3: Brotha Lynch | |
| See now it' s two weeks later, | |
| I had to cut like a cheese grater | |
| Did in all black like a | |
| Raider and hit niggas up like a pager, red beam laser | |
| My trust got all ed up so now | |
| I' m watchin' the lights behind me | |
| Tuckin' the metal stuff, try' na get that shit behind me | |
| Testin' my ghetto luck, in the streets | |
| Zigg Zagg, my crimey | |
| We lookin' for that prime meat | |
| We lookin' for that man that plotted the crime to try to tie my life span, splatter my pipe dream | |
| Leave you stiff like a mic stand | |
| Yeah I' m the | |
| Burbank titan, whether you likin' it or not | |
| Grew up right out of 24th street, yeah some call it the block | |
| And when they first hit the locks, see | |
| I was shot | |
| All I saw was chrome and niggas in black ski masks, comin' in my home | |
| They try' na take my money, they try' na get paid, so | |
| I don' t blame ' em | |
| But I wish | |
| I had the chopper to put the flame to ' em | |
| But I didn' t, just a hand pistol, same doin', bone gristle | |
| Came to ' em, dumpin at shadows, and | |
| I was havin' shootout battles Chorus x2 |
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