Liquor Sicc - Brotha Lynch Hung, Mr. Doctor

So what really happened, nigga?

I understand ain’t nobody did shit

Ain’t nobody did shit for my cuz

Where them niggas at that said they’d put it all on the line?

'Cause nigga

Only chop they emptied went up toward the sky

I gotta know where niggas heads at

'Cause my cousin still ain’t got no peace yet

So all you motherfuckers wanna know where I stand?

Nigga, I stand right next to my cousin Emil, nigga

You know what I’m sayin'?

And that’s on the Blocc nigga

However you wanna handle this shit, nigga

Look up in the sky, it’s a motherfuckin' slug

Some nigga done let one off and only my cousin’s sheddin' blood

That loccest muthafucka from 29th Street throwin' up his flag, some nigga got

mad

And went to the crib for the forty-four mag, returned to the set-up and let my

cousin have it

That nigga that died for the Garden Blocc gang, did time for the Garden Blocc

And ended up stuck in a muthafuckin' casket, but I don’t be givin' a fuck

I’m tappin' up in your program

Before you know it I’m creepin' up on you in a licorice dark, black,

drop-top Brougham

With a twelve gauge pump in the trunk and a clip full of funk

And a fat Purple Kush blunt, so call it what you want

I call it the fever of the funk house, dumpin' gauge shells in that ass

Leavin' you face down, chest down with a gang of guts hangin' out your ass

Nigga you know the process, they wanna kill me now

I’m a dead man walkin' to my funeral, can you feel me now?

And if I die before your set gets blasted

That’s on the Gardens I’m gon' rise up out my casket

I’m liquor sick and I just might lose control

So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks

I’m liquor sick and I just might lose control

So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks

And I’m out in six-five hardtop Impala lookin for that one eight seven

There he go and I’m right behind him bustin' with my MAC-11

Straight bumper-to-bumper twelve gauge pumpin' was that Lil X Loccsta

Givin' up his set and dumpin' on niggas just like he’s supposed to

Nigga this is real deal shit

It’s not about Crip or Blood, it’s about payback

That family love, so nigga now fuck your whole clique

Like 24 Deep they tryin' to kill me for my fuckin' tapes

Them baby rapes, so nigga get out my fuckin' face

If I was really bangin' niggas would know, 'cause I’d have they whole set

Lookin' like L.A. when the earthquake hit, nigga, fuckin' with my Tec

I’m from the Garden Blocc, no matter what nobody say

I’m makin' my money, not lettin' that bangin' shit get in my way

Niggas get mad, they wanna see the Lynch rippin'

I’m wearing blue, yeah, but motherfucker I ain’t even trippin'

But for my cousin Q-Ball, Mr. Doc and Sicx

My cousin Eklypss and two of my kids, nigga, catch these clips

I’m liquor sick and I just might lose control

So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks

I’m liquor sick and I just might lose control

So load your clips, locs, 'cause we ridin' for my folks

There ain’t no fuckin' way

My cousin’s gonna lay up in a casket with no retaliation

There ain’t no fuckin' way

That motherfucker died for the Blocc, so lets heat them motherfucking Glocks

There ain’t no fuckin' way

My cousin’s gonna lay up in a casket with no retaliation

There ain’t no fuckin' way

That motherfucker died for the Blocc, so lets heat them motherfucking Glocks