Brotha Lynch Hung

Brotha Lynch Hung - Corpse Came To Dinner lyrics

[Verse 1]

It's a must that I bust any strap ya hand ta me

It's inherited, it runs in the family

Niggaz in the town got pounds of beef

Threaten a niggaz life, make it sound so sweet

I peel 'em back like corn-on-the-cob, cap peel 'em

Make 'em sound like a whore on the job

Witta Mac in the backpack, fulla that crack sack

Gettin' it off (Better have my muthafuckin money)

Bitch where my siccmade 'til I die shit, nobody saw

So I was able ta wipe the blood off the hallway walls

Ain't got nothin ta live for

Can't even trust a bitch, might have ta leave her alone

Ma had ta dig a ditch, shit so rigorous

Dealin' wit hataz, snitchaz, and bitchaz, get they brains gone

Find a new home, you one life is gone

Cuz I'm O-One, check the clock

And if these walls could talk, muthafuckaz'll be shot

I'm about ta go 51-50, got nobody wit me

Stressed out like Whitney, Bobby Brown, weed and whiskey

Smokin' Newports, no support

But like Too Short I keep it goin'

Shootin' up forts, who in this sport wanna fuck wit me

Come on the court, rippin' out insides

Puttin' stains on thangs, that's when I rip-ride

And I slip-slide through the Gardens witta bloody t-shirt, it won't hurt

Look at this way, 6 feet deep in the dirt won't hurt

Flirtin' wit murda, I leave 'em unheard of

And I'm sicca than period pads drippin'

All over your hands gettin'

The back seat or the trunk, it's your choice

Dead or alive, smothered and fried

The way you better uncover your eyes, I'm in the skies

Witta 9 tryin' ta take out your spine

Nobody know crime, throw up that sicc sign

And strike hard like stricc-nine

No recovery, you other G niggaz betta duck

Leave you in the tuxed up

Psycho, off the wall like Michael

Always paranoid cuz I be blowin' out that nitro

All day, every day, murda spray, got you in Glad Bags

Headed for the pad, and you can ask my dad

I was a scavenger, 14 years old eatin' scabs

Graduated ta nigga meat, but I don't wanna brag

Fuck Jeffry Dohmer, he a muthafuckin fag

I got nigga nuts and guts in the bag, draggin' 'em ta the pad

[Chorus]

(Corpse came ta dinner)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

(Corpse came ta dinner)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

(Corpse came ta dinner)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

(Corpse came ta dinner)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

[Verse 2]

Fuck under the influence, I'm hella fucked up

Swervin' down the freeway, spillin' my cup

Tryin' take you out this rap on the Underbelly

He ain't shit, he 'bout ta be in the trunk smelly

By me and my Relly, you never know

Whatever tho, I got auto magazines and that weak intro

What you got against me?

Don't you know I rip niggaz up, turn 'em ta minced meat

Well if you got some sense, beat it, like raw eggs

I used ta have hella homies, now they all hate

But I'ma leave it alone, I'm on my own like a voodoo nigga

If a nigga want ta get ate, what would you do nigga

I was too cool wit 'em, group of niggaz and they tripped on me

Gave 'em a little bit of fame, then they dipped on me

But you know, it's all in the game, tell the crip homie

Ta hit 'em witta slug in the brain, that's what you get from me

Crash dummy, your careers defected

And you ain't sold a record last time I checked it

You just keep knockin', I feel disrespected

Now your neck got disconnected by the Lynch Hung necklace

Hey, I leave 'em red, and I don't eat the head

Let the Tec spit and chop niggaz down ta the ground like Judge Dread

Come up in the door lookin' just like a fed

And you call yourself a rap vet

Get out the bed, and let me fuck her like she should be fucked

All in the butt, wit the 9 milly, swallowin' nut

And you see me in black clothes, creepin' from the back

Don't know how ta act, black blankets fulla Mac's

I use 'em for nutsacks and full body sacks

Better not let your daughter out, end up in the slaughter house

Chokin' and spittin', chest open and bleedin'

And me fuckin' her from the back, and I hope for you ta see it

[Chorus]

(Corpse came ta dinner)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

(Corpse came ta dinner)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

(Hey Folks, open the door nigga)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

(Nah, nah, open the trunk)

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Ziplock, body-bag, toe-tag, wet t-shirt, black mask

Get this song at:  amazon.com sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

Comments