Had 2 Gat Ya - Brotha Lynch Hung

I’mma let it be known

That I’m with the foe so nigga you know it’s on

Oil my chrome cause I got murder in my blood and in my chromosone

For the fact that I take none, pack a gun in my dang-a-lang

That nigga that nigga that gang bang no never that nigga that claim

Yeah, I’m a nigga eating Jesus brains

I got the evil in my muthafuckin back and in my muthafuckin veins

Wearing my black to creep

Momma told a muthafucka he’d be dead in a week

So nigga what?

load me like a tre five sev

Pass the dank takin dead body’s to the blood bank

And while I hook em up proper

I got them swallowing in my loaded heart stopper

POP!

POP!

the trigga fiend, the niggas spleen

Plus the barrel on my muthafuckin nine, lookin plus

That nigga that nigga that runs them mothafuckas back

I got you fiendin for a nigga like you fiend for crack

Cause its like that (mo wiggita then a nigga get might packed???)

Cause in the 4 you know never know you better gat right back

So niggas know us brothas can’t go out like that

Sellin my momma the crack, watch yo back cause (You know I had to gat ya)

Chorus: repeat 4X

(Yeah, you know I had to gat ya)

(187 on a) (nigga)

Yeah, picture your death

That nigga that siccness

Figure to sick this, foo

That nigga that rips

(??? look at that nigga) that siccness drops

And as my trigga goes Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

That niggas be ducking from the buck shot

See, fuck it when the gun drops, you know its in a hoes cot

So there it goes, not the average nigga

The baby killa, (???a rabies)

Dealin that nigga maybe killin that nigga that smooth way

That mothafuckas ain’t shit to me

White nigga, black trigga cracks every mothafuckas back

Late in a day, fools used to get they squabs on

The blood gang deuce-nine Creek Mobb zone

Runnin a mothafucka like a pit bull, loadin up that clip tool

But stealin on muthafuckas like a clepto

Let no, other muthafuckas raise yo hood

Half the mothafuckas smokin niggas like wood

Got locked up with they cock up, some other niggas asshole

But atleast my niggas had enough heart to blast though

Now the deuce ain’t deep like 86

I’m solo, might as well pin me on a crucifix

The deuce-fo' age, baby killin athiest

For the funk right back, cause (You know I had to gat ya)

Same ol fool, that nigga deep load, what up

Ain’t no doubt who runs the muthafucka

Cause every cut I drop is like a muthafuckin main course

Hella niggas eat that’s why I make so many corpse

Cause when they hear that nigga that nigga that siccness drop

My nine millimeter goes Pop!

My sign going to creep them

Nightmare creeper millimeter meter

Lock up, main corpse, spirit your brain

Got niggas killin niggas, just because I’m rappin insane

Something like a Manson mind, my nigga Triple Sicx

(i got em doing a devil dance of mine)

Leavin em only one chance to die and niggas wanna used a Glock

Niggas wanna go to heaven but don’t want to get shot down

Yeah, with my .38 snub nose

I got niggas crawlin to me tryin to pack me for the hella holes

Lettin loose like Antonio Montana

With a Uzi and I’m kickin em with a 12 gauge Moss'

And I’m off, psycho like I’m Michael Myers part six

Brotha Lynch, rippin his arms off up the crucifix

And when I grab my 9 millimeter gun, puttin' it to your back

'Cause I don’t know how to act so (You know I had 2 Gat Ya)

(You Know I had 2 Gat Ya)