Brotha Lynch Hung Deep Down Lyrics

Deep Down Lyrics

[Brotha Lynch]

Yeah I could load a 9 up everyday, but why

My locc's told
me homie make them tapes

And keep that 24 block alive

But if I feel I'm
in need, I got's to ride

Carry a 9 for straight business, not just a
side

Man it's the night-mare, creepin up in the cut

I'm hittin dice
games, barbeques, no matter what

The things I've seen'll make ya throw
up

Flaunt your flag, shoot your gats, hit your dank

Where I'm from
that's how ya grow up

Man it's that wicked and 9 millimeter

Carrier
bein stereo-typed daily

Ya got's to feel me, foo it's that baby

Killas
run around everyday that's why I'm strapped

Ya heard it I got my own
back-fade

Out into the 'lac and hit the city of Sac

Them homies given
me that

But you got them fools that want a foe then

They wonderin why
I'm carryin me a 12 gauge pump

Man I ain't no punk

The average everyday
thug that's how it sounds

I'm defendin myself, and loadin that mili

And
leaving em layin



[Chorus] X 4

Deep down, there's a place for
hope



[Mr. Doctor]

I guess it's hard to explain why I'm feelin how
I'm feelin

I guess I'm feelin sorrow cus my homies got some stealin

And
foos would say that it's my fault I bet

See cus I wasn't strapped yo, but I
can't fuck my set

How could I know that them foos would blast?

Later
on, on my folks

It's funny how this bangin's got its different
strokes

I think about my loccs and how they made it

Though I'm stressin
from the fact

They gotta suffer from a bullet hole

And Mr. Doctor just
don't have hope locc

It's only been a month, since my last down partner got
smoked

And rivals is deep, up in my city foo

Since I'm on the
underground team, I can't have no peace

My life is tore up so I guess I'm
stuck

Yeah, I got my St. Ides, I'm turnin it up

To get drunk, then I
post up on the street

While I say to myself, for the block

Homie rest
in peace



[Chorus] X 4



[Brotha Lynch]

They say that ain't
the way to handle that type funk

But now I'm loadin up the strap, smokin on
that blunt

Just cus the Brotha Hung is flag-up

What that mean, I can't
ride?

Why G's up in my face, I'm bout to help them ride

I keep a low
pro, drink the 4-0

And lounge until it's time to go

Shinin up the
forty-fo

Rollin up the boogey-boo, indo

And hopin if I should die,
before I'm high

That they bury me in 50 pounds of chocolate thai

I got
them homies from the south-side givin it up and

Them homies from the
east-side slangin that stuff and

I'm right up in the middle tryin to hang
on and

Tryin not to end up like them niggas doin time in the pen

But
then again

I'm down for when the homies is ready to roll em up

You
know, stick in a dark-blue cut

And as I'm creepin through ya set

Trip,
don't get caught up, shot up

The gardenblock locc's, man we leave em
layin



[Chorus] X 4