Brotha Lynch Hung - Watta lyrics

(feat. Luni Coleone)

[Brotha Lynch]

I'm the hardest nigga you never heard of

And I'm a pro when it comes to these tools a four four

when it comes to these raw venemous spit send him his dick

In a wool shoe package, peel back his cap wid this automatic

Cold hefty and black shit I make a rapper disappear like magic

It's Siccmade, all the way to the motherfuckin' casket

And six feet deeper, get these heaters right off the lips

I stack chips and I, sip these litres on the hips

It's some shit that'll split ya wig

You can't spit enough shit, that'll get ya big

Get the gig, you pay him first then I'll lay him next

Niggaz be weak just like latex, cheap as Tampax

I walk through the room wid a handful of anthrax

Shakin' niggaz hands, makin' niggaz dance like

Paula Abdul when I pull out the tool

Ya kids get napped when I run out the school

Ya nig did that, it's the motherfuckin' Lynch

Take a long barrel four four and run up in ya bitch

Real shit, cause it turns me on and

What kind of shit do these nerds be on and

What kinda clips should I put in this chrome four

What kind loopty-loop ya on

Pass me the Newport and let's get it on like Marvin

I've been starvin' creep through the trees like Tarzan

Ya meat we carvin'

[Hook]

It's watta, watta, and ya know I'm thirsty

And even though it hurts me

I stay blood thirsty for watta, watta

Take it how you want nigga

So make it how you want nigga

[x2]

[Luni Coleone]

You punk niggaz want war we make shit happen

When it comes to the money drugs scrappin' and cappin'

I'm a veteran and I bet when I pull my thang

You hoe niggaz run faster than cut out segas

We some spiritual lyrical individuals nigga

I ain't fearin' no negro we leavin' bullet holes nigga

When a soldier bow down we leave him alone

Tape his tail to his ass cheek and send him on home

I'm a motherfucka nigga ain't you heard of Co-le

My music it use niggaz like a guard against Kobe

Hittin' hard like Shinobi, you niggaz don't know me

I throw 'em harder than Drew breathes

And shake 'em like police

I mean who tryna take it there let me know

We leave him cryin' like when a kid get a Nintendo

Coleone, I'm known to stay high as a kite

And shoot notes to X-Loc keep my cuz alright

[Hook]

[Brotha Lynch Hung]

While you be internet thuggin' I'll be in ya set muggin

You be in the bathroom tuggin' cause you can't get lovin'

I'll be in the last room pluggin' while you in the front room drippin'

I bust nuts on ya livin' you come in the back room kissing

So don't trip cause I'm harder than you

Just like every motherfucker that's a part of my crew

Gimme a carton full of Newports and a metal junt from the Midwest

And I'ma disappear and come back the sickest nigga you ever met

What happens next nigga, whatever happens

We pull techs nigga, whatevers crackin'

We pitbulls in a backyard full of poodles

And I'm foamin' at the mouth like Kuja

Put blood and guts in yo spaghetti noodles

I got problems in the head

Got ya lookin' for slugs, well it's probably in the bed

Got me lookin' for love all in the wrong places

I'm tasteless and I chew to the bone homie

Now, look at ya faces it's watt