My Papers - Brotha Lynch Hung

I used to push in '92 like cocaine

Had them gangsta niggaz railed up doin' it wit no name

Stayin' at the roach motel 2 for 2 chesse hamburger deals

Doin' shows in broke down clubs just to get a meal

Imma keep it real it was all skillz that payed your bills

And the fact that you don’t pay niggaz that shit going to get you killed

But don’t worry about me partna

Like I said I’m already dead I hold this infared point blank range steadily at

your head

Cuz I’m a blocc nigga you know what happens when you fucc wit us

We cut your tongues off switch niggaz and stuff bloody’em up (bloody'em up)

Run up in the cut and fucc it rough you up and put you up

These broke niggaz don’t give a mothafucc

I want that meal ticket and we’ll never kicc it cuz you funny styles

Still won’t fucc wit you even if you gave me my money now

Funny how ridaz get bought up you about to get caught up like Bo King

You be gettin' niggaz thats why you got no team

Damn, niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers

Bam, hit’em witta enough lead got away wit the caper

Ran too the 1964 and smashed off

So fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off (1)

Fucc your record company I’m about to blast off (2) I was young dumb full of

cum full of O.E.

and Rum

Spittin' chunccs of meat all heat

Always givin' where I from in every verse like I don’t give a fucc

Suppose to be in the studio but I’m somewhere drunk fuccin' up

Blacc Too Short I ain’t trippin'

Used to be a record thing now it’s a new sport put your clip in

I heard you be dreamin' about niggaz in ski masks with bottles of blacc molasses

Ran up your pad quicc woke your ass up wit the magnum

I could of been platnium a loc went bad when you jacc’d him

You get’em old like you ain’t got no Action Jackson

I’m mirror watchin' when I’m paccin' nigga give me my shit

You the type of nigga that pay for hits I don’t pay for shit

Cuz I’m broke you wanted it that why for some reason

Couldn’t find you for nuttin' ever since I did Picc’em off like Deion

everything you see me on

Is stolin' in your life pure witta colon serious until it’s over

Imma always be at that ass witta butcher knife

Askin' where you put your wife and why did I took your life

Houses got bought up you about to get caught like Bo King

You begettin' niggaz thats why you got no team

Damn, niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers

Bam, hit’em witta enough lead got away wit the caper

Ran too the 1964 and smashed off

Fucc your record company I’m about to blast of (1) So fucc your record company

Imma 'bout to blast off (2)

Shit is gettin' to the point where imma smash on everbody

And it’s gettin' to the point where I don’t fucc wit nobody

Beleive it I tucc the ol' shotty in the glove compartment

Hit the town in???

if he start shit

I spark shit that heat you up cool you off shit

Those old joints you remakin' homes imma get my profit

We struggle for years on the???

we can rap it out

If you???

shows I pull the tec and take you out

It the cut and lay low until I get my shit

Interrupt your day with fadeo’z put 44 holes in your windpipe

They know i’m sicca than sicc when i split your shit leave you coughin' up

liver bits

Fuccin' niggaz to get your grip it aint safe

Nigga where was you faith we could of blow up

You better watch how you do stuff

Can’t wait fot the new stuff it’s called I put your bitch on the ground I say

wheres the money

Swiss count bitch damn that nigga tryin' to get me for my papers

Bam, hit her witta enough lead got away wit the caper

Ran too the 1964 and smashed off

So fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off

Damn, niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers (1, 2, 3, 5)

Damn, that niggaz tryin' to sticc me for my papers (4)

Bam, hit’em witta enough lead got away wit the caper

Ran too the 1964 and smashed off

Fucc your record company I’m about to blast of (1)(3)(5)

So Fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off (2)

NIgga Fucc your record company Imma 'bout to blast off (4) X5