(feat. Luni Coleone)

[Brotha Lynch]

I'm the hardest ^!$$% you never heard of
And I'm a pro when it comes to these tools a four four
when it comes to these raw venemous spit send him his dick

In a wool shoe package, peel back his cap wid this automatic
Cold hefty and black %#@! I make a rapper disappear like magic
It's Siccmade, all the way to the mother$#&@in' casket

And six feet deeper, get these heaters right off the lips
I stack chips and I, sip these litres on the hips
It's some %#@! that'll split ya wig

You can't spit enough %#@!, that'll get ya big
Get the gig, you pay him first then I'll lay him next
^!$$%z be weak just like latex, cheap as Tampax

I walk through the room wid a handful of anthrax
Shakin' ^!$$%z hands, makin' ^!$$%z dance like
Paula Abdul when I pull out the tool

Ya kids get napped when I run out the school
Ya nig did that, it's the mother$#&@in' Lynch
Take a long barrel four four and run up in ya (*##$

Real %#@!, cause it turns me on and
What kind of %#@! do these nerds be on and
What kinda clips should I put in this chrome four

What kind loopty-loop ya on
Pass me the Newport and let's get it on like Marvin
I've been starvin' creep through the trees like Tarzan

Ya meat we carvin'

[Hook]

It's watta, watta, and ya know I'm thirsty
And even though it hurts me
I stay blood thirsty for watta, watta

Take it how you want ^!$$%
So make it how you want ^!$$%
[x2]


[Luni Coleone]
You punk ^!$$%z want war we make %#@! happen

When it comes to the money drugs scrappin' and cappin'
I'm a veteran and I bet when I pull my thang
You hoe ^!$$%z run faster than cut out segas

We some spiritual lyrical individuals ^!$$%
I ain't fearin' no negro we leavin' bullet holes ^!$$%
When a soldier bow down we leave him alone

Tape his tail to his $$# cheek and send him on home
I'm a mother$#&@a ^!$$% ain't you heard of Co-le
My music it use ^!$$%z like a guard against Kobe

Hittin' hard like Shinobi, you ^!$$%z don't know me
I throw 'em harder than Drew breathes
And shake 'em like police

I mean who tryna take it there let me know
We leave him cryin' like when a kid get a Nintendo
Coleone, I'm known to stay high as a kite

And shoot notes to X-Loc keep my cuz alright

[Hook]


[Brotha Lynch Hung]
While you be internet thuggin' I'll be in ya set muggin

You be in the bathroom tuggin' cause you can't get lovin'
I'll be in the last room pluggin' while you in the front room drippin'
I bust nuts on ya livin' you come in the back room kissing

So don't trip cause I'm harder than you
Just like every mother$#&@er that's a part of my crew
Gimme a carton full of Newports and a metal junt from the Midwest

And I'ma disappear and come back the sickest ^!$$% you ever met
What happens next ^!$$%, whatever happens
We pull techs ^!$$%, whatevers crackin'

We pitbulls in a backyard full of poodles
And I'm foamin' at the mouth like Kuja
Put blood and guts in yo spaghetti noodles

I got problems in the head
Got ya lookin' for slugs, well it's probably in the bed
Got me lookin' for love all in the wrong places

I'm tasteless and I chew to the bone homie
Now, look at ya faces it's watt