My Mind Ain’t Right Brotha Lynch Hung
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "My Mind Ain’t Right" by Brotha Lynch Hung. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
Whats up man?
(Lynch) Whats that?
Its that prozac
(Lynch) How many - how many milligrams is that?
Shit, five hundred. Better watch out for these boys
(Lynch) Let me get some of that. I NEED it
Hahaha... Shit. What the fucks wrong with you boy. Whats up..
[Hook]
See - my mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
Cause they won't find your body - shine your lobby
With flashlights - run in your spot time the robbery
[Verse 1]
Last night ran in your spot - blinded the other three
Talkin to my A-K forty seven like cover me
I'm goin' in - here I go again
Back to fuckin' with that O-8 English mixed with gin
Back to tuckin' shit thats cold make things rip your chin
Crack your dome I'm takin' gold thangs - shake mixed with cocaine
No brain - nigga it ain't no thang to
Run up on you with the rain leavin blood stains - who
Wanna fuck with me - the psycho of the city
I spit poison like poison boy back in the eighties
And it ain't pretty - the Sacramento Frank Nitty
The black version - all you heard is the Mac burstin'
(Lynch) Whats that?
Its that prozac
(Lynch) How many - how many milligrams is that?
Shit, five hundred. Better watch out for these boys
(Lynch) Let me get some of that. I NEED it
Hahaha... Shit. What the fucks wrong with you boy. Whats up..
[Hook]
See - my mind ain't right - I got personal issues
Bout to drop your family off a box of some tissues
Cause they won't find your body - shine your lobby
With flashlights - run in your spot time the robbery
[Verse 1]
Last night ran in your spot - blinded the other three
Talkin to my A-K forty seven like cover me
I'm goin' in - here I go again
Back to fuckin' with that O-8 English mixed with gin
Back to tuckin' shit thats cold make things rip your chin
Crack your dome I'm takin' gold thangs - shake mixed with cocaine
No brain - nigga it ain't no thang to
Run up on you with the rain leavin blood stains - who
Wanna fuck with me - the psycho of the city
I spit poison like poison boy back in the eighties
And it ain't pretty - the Sacramento Frank Nitty
The black version - all you heard is the Mac burstin'
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