Brotha Lynch Hung Dead Man Walking Lyrics

Thus the n____ in that casket hotboxin
How many m____fuckers wanna empty out they glocks in me
The g_______ers most wanted
The first n____ caught me in my side
And my set didn't ride
So I'm locc to the m_____fucking brain
50 pounds of dank in my casket
I'm bout to take my last splift
Before I make that move to insane
Records of a criminal for baby killin nothin
40 ounces wit my game
Them n____s that kill they momma for some fame
For the ripgut trigga to hit what m____fuckers in my aim;
Even my momma tried to take me out the game
By heating up some Brandy and taking it to the dome because I came;
With the siccness and it's just the dank that I smoke
Making me load that millimeter putting deuce up in your throat;
Murder she wrote, in the book, as a gang related homicide
Reality check n____ for the fact she giving it up
It's suicide for the do or the die
True or the die each time
One after each as I creep through the streets
With a 9 millimeter up under my seat
I packs heat, deep cuz a n____ like me can't be played cheap;
blink, before I'm leaving this n____s guts up in the street;
peep, ever since n____ deep I gotta carry me something
Cuz everywhere I go n____s 12 gauge pumping
Oh one thing to know when my 44 bust
I'm taking them n____s brains hookin em up
And murderin n____s up
Then I give it up, then I'm in the cut
5 triple 0 double o Mosburg pump
Point it at your grill
Ready to bust for the fact some call me still
The hardest n____ in that casket hotboxing
So to those m____fuckers that wanna empty out they glocks in me;
Think 24 times fool fo you come wit yo punk 9's
Cuz n____ you n____ me, my oozie say its dinnertime
That ripgut cannibal mind for the s___ that make them violent crimes;
That's atheist so feel the sign
A deadman walkin

See also:

Afghan Whigs I'm Her Slave Lyrics
BOWIE, David Life On Mars? Lyrics