legal dope compilation lyrics – brotha lynch hung

chorus(lynch and d-dubb)4x
i re-fuse to lose
f*ck them 22’s
i got an ap 10 and a throwaway tech 9
so you know you can’t f*ck with mine

if i was standing in the dark letting my nine spark
maybe in the morning, motherf*ckers might feel me yet
it’s that nine tech n*gg* that got them motherf*ckers tore up
as i smash of in a seven deuce cut, you holding your gut
talking about
(d-dub and lynch)
what the f*ck you smoking on?
all dome as the chronics got me gone
n*gg* it’s on
on ’til the slugs come out
at night i do my murder red rum so tight
i’ts the third strike n*gg*
so now i’m aiming up at your dome
’bout to make your brain split and hit the fleetwood brome
i’m like richard chase, mixed with al capone
if you want some ripgut sh*t n*gg*
yeah, i got it sewn
so bone to the crib, or get your wig split fool, with the tech chrome
and say the alphabet backwards fast or find you a brand new dome
a criminal minded n*gg* that gots tefs in his nine
so head to the east side, ’cause it’s red rum time, n*gg*

chorus 4x

n*gg*, it’s that-sac of indo-killafornia state of mind
where n*gg*s put their gangster gear on, and bend corners
in a chev 69
wire rims
you can’t see
with their neighborhood flags and their black carthart beenie
i’m like genie
as i swoop through the hood and get up to no good
and i wish you would
test my tech, ’cause n*gg*, it loves to take out necks
and empty backs out, so i max out
350 on the black top
more smoke than chronic smoking
loced out sherm, cl*ssic perm
in my ashtray, there’s always a roach
hit the left lane in case one times approach
i got, 5 warrants and some ’89 tags
17 in the clip of my, auto mag
i’ts sad
i gotta watch my back, ’cause these n*gg*s wanna throw me up in a black
leather sack, and throw me over their back
but f*ck that
why you think i got extended clips
’cause i’m so high, most of the time
i just can’t miss, n*gg*

chorus 4x

/ brotha lynch hung lyrics