Sicc & High

Brotha Lynch:(Talking)

Yeah man, ya know,

I was trying to tell you ****** man,that ****** was trippin out man.

I did all kinds of *******t,for him and *******t, and

I help that ****** outa bad situations, you know?

Cuz was trippin man,

I was like man.

Still was talking *******t ******, dirty ass songs about me and *******t, you know.

Man, so I gotta hit him back:

****** you tha, king of comedy,and

Ima be g thatz what

Ima be.Let you see that *******t at close range,when

I tap you with the bang, wrap you up in cellophane (sphhhh).

That’ll be the endin, no pretendin,siccmade and high side ¿crash?, do a drive by wide em.

Do or die by which in em, get in em, any time, any where.

Cut through the lane like

Chris Webber.

Better get it together ******,

I toughen up your leather with a,touch, shoot you in the neck, get my respect, you mutha****** bet.

Might as well not sweat when

I put these flames to your set,and leave you, smokey like robinson.

My oozie weigh 24 tons, and

I got them,******s on rum in em, and those 221’s, you getted this done.

Thats why

I pack my gun,cause when you tappin into this gangsta *******t you gotta pack yo gun.

Some ******s gon shoot, some ******s gon run.

Its all mathematical, ¿bet off and get tragical?,holding out the cadillac roam with the metal thangs,to do that ghetto thang, you know, cellophane.

To hit them pedal thangs,smash off in the cup where you get that ¿hedikane?

You watch that medic bring, black bags and gloves.

I gotta be thug (why?),

I made that decision a long time ago.

Drinkin 40’s in ¿plash? dominoes,goin through drama with hoes, you know how it goes.

I aint been doin no shows, aint been steppin on no toes.

But the p11 9mm ruben (what’s that?), is the weapon

I chose.I don’t need much cause

Im clutch like shaq diesel,and

I love the way the ruben make dead people.

Catch em comin out the church steeple,cause he did my people.

You know, paybacks to the first degree,and

Im cript walkin to my funeral, so it aint no hearsin me.

A-Blocc:Bouncin off to the turf, this is

A-Blocc,Im posted pu*******n ¿yayrocks?, to see right through these ******s character.

They blasted like the glock, neighborhood watch keeps lookin,but

I keep jookin, *******t

I know where

Pablo gots his birdies cookin.

I probably crook em.

See the plots to get richer quicker, make my feddy thicker,perkin off the finest liquors, pass pen, triggas get clutched.

I get my bucks man,

MOB, thats money over ******es,six straight rags with switches, got the feds takin pictures,half heart half ****, invested my ism, is some pimp, he’s upset with a hoe.

And made her hump till my pockets got the mumps like ¿gody?

Ask the little ******, she said, “oh he’s a ****** cody.”

So D, pistols everything from fake

ID’s.I put hoes in shady ******s, left them eatin through our piece.

Roll dese through the ghetto, vogues smoked like indo.

High speed chases throwin choppers out the window.

I’m wanted by the task, and ****** ass ******s gun blast,and all

I ever wanted was the cash.

*******t its like

I’m hunted but

I still get blunted rollin through the set.

Ima do my thing for now though, cause they aint killed me yet,and if

I die then

I die, *******t, don’t even shed a tear.

I’m better off where

I’m goin man, cause

I aint happy here.

Got no fear, *******t, them ******s bruise like

I bruise,lose ¿screws? like

I do, ******, choose how you choose ******, ooh!