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Brotha Lynch
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One Mo Pound
I was rollin' through the hood one day, thought shit den calmed down
Gang-bangin' den played out by the years since I den been around
Ain't talked to nobody from my block 'cause all my niggas is locked up
And it's been all ever I seen wit a guillotine
So I was in the 'Cut Supreme', fifteen grams and some greenodine
Ain't seen a block nigga since but now I'm off that kill green
Mothafuckas ain't got no love for me
Niggas wanna put some slugs in me
So I'm double 0 seven, murder Redrum wit my three fifty seven
Brotha Lynch Hung, but the bitches call me Kevin
They try to make me think they close to me, but Neb'in
(Never)
You know I gots to say high, stay high, keep receipts for alibis
And the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain't mine
'Cause mine's a supe' disguise as I swoop the skies high off that Buddha
Tah mixed the cusche and the purple hairs and it got me high
(Now I'm rollin' on the river)
Labeled Mr. FedEx
('Cause them bodies I deliver)
Got to get to my next plot
Unlock the freezer get the meat for the rocks
(Rotweilers)
And heat the heat 'cause it's the nine-neb'in
('97)
And it's hot den a mothafucka
(All day everyday)
I'mma stay loaded up, 'Krondike' in the trunk
And a pound full of James Brown
'Cause I gots to get loaded so hold up soldier
The count goes
One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed
To make a mothafucka choke
Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side
But I got some bomb ass weed in my ride
The count goes
One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed
To make a mothafucka choke
Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side
But I got some bomb ass weed in my ride
Nothin' but notches, booches fill my pockets
Hit 'em up everyday, gotta have my pay
The gaungay got me high, now I'm paranoid a den these booches
Filthy rich, I'mma take the loot and the dig a ditch
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Tell your neighborhood bitch to miss me with that hoe shit
'Cause I'mma get this nigga when he surface
And that's on everything I love, I gots to split his wig
Opened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacket
Rib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic shells
Send him to hell express from his mailing address
We got his name, for sho', then we went to the house and did that shit
I know I said I do it alone in the pass
Everybody in the neighborhood knew, somebody betta jack his ass up
Like a six-four impala, you floatin' on dirty water
Pack your shit up nigga like it's on only you
And your [unverified], woda-goda [unverified]
Track your ass down, smoke your last pound
The count goes
One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed
To make a mothafucka choke
Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side
But I got some bomb ass weed in my ride
The count goes
One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed
To make a mothafucka choke
Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side
But I got some bomb ass weed in my ride
If you smell any smoke, it's just me and my homies gettin' blown
And I was late gettin' home, intoxicated
Fight with my old lady, she was comin' at unreal
Hit the blunt and now she's animated
Motivate through you like a foggy mist
You can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hit
First Degree told me if the weed can toss
It'll talk some shit, gotta get me an under spot
Make me a Hemp Museum like B-Legit
I'm tryin' to bump my head on the moon
Live so high up in the mountains eatin' snake meat, fried raccoons
With a attitude I need food to eat up
Smoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet up
Top notch program, DOS mode indo 95 upgrade siccmade
Stay paid 'til the day on the ground, I'mma lay, I'mma stay loaded up
In my trunk I got the blow you up and it'll blow you up
And the count goes
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