Brotha Lynch Hung - One Mo Pound Lyrics
I was rollin through the hood one dayThought shit den calmed down,Gang-bangin den played out by the years since I den been aroundAint talked to nobody from my blockCause all my niggas is locked upAnd its been all ever I seen wit a guillotineSo I was in the cut supremeFifteen grams and some greenodineAint seen a block nigga sinceBut now Im off that kill green(mothta*****as aint got no love for me)(niggas wanna put some slugs in me)So Im double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my three fifty sevenBrotha lynch hung, but the *****es call me kevinThey try to make me think they close to me, but nebin [never]You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for alibisAnd the meat they ate from them drive-bys aint mineCause mines a supe desguiseAs I swoop the skies high off that buddhaTah mixed the cusche and the purple hairsAnd it got me high(now Im rollin on the river)Labeled mr. fedex(cause them bodies I deliver)Got to get to my next plotUnlock the freezer get the meat for the rocks [rotweilers]And heat the heat cause its the nine-nebin [97]And its hot den a motha*****a(all day everyday) imma stay loaded up, krondike in the trunkAnd a pound full of james brownCause I gots to get loaded so hold up soldier[chorus: 2xs]The count goes(one more pound of smoke and its guaranteed to make a motha*****a choke)(aint got no down ass ***** at my sideBut I got some bomb ass weed in my ride)Nothin but notches, boochesFill my pockets, hit em up everyday, gotta have my payThe gaungay got me high now Im paranoida den these boochesFilthy rich, imma take the lootAnd the dig a ditch, tell your neighborhood *****To miss me with that hoe shitCause imma get this nigga when he surfaceAnd thats on everything I love, I gots to split his wigOpened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacketRib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic shellsSend him to hell express from his mailing addressWe got his name, for sho, then we went to the house and did that shitI know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood knewSomebody betta jack his ass up like a six-four impalaYou floatin on dirty waterPack your shit up nigga like its on only you and your ? woda-goda?Track your ass down, smoke your last pound[chorus 2xs](if you smell any smoke its just me and my homies gettin blown)And I was late gettin home, intoxicatedFight with my old ladyShe was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now shes animatedMotivate through you like a foggy mistYou can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hitFirst degree told me if the weed can tossItll talk some shit, gotta get me an underspotMake me a hemp museum like b-legitIm tryin to bump my head on the moonLive so high up in the mountains eatin snake meat, fried raccoonsWith a attitude I need food to eat upSmoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet upTop notch program, dos mode indo 95 upgrade siccmadeStay paid til the day on the ground, imma lay, imma stay loaded upIn my trunk I got the blow you up and itll blow you upAnd the count goes[brotha lynch hung sends out shout outs til the end]
