Watta Brotha Lynch Hung (Ft. Luni Coleone)

[Verse 1: 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
Niggas be weak just like latex, cheap as Tampax
I walk through the room wid a handful of anthrax
Shakin' niggas hands, makin' niggas 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'