X-caliba Lyrics

X-caliba lyrics

[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]



That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods



Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left



And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away



Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre



Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup



Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up



(X-caliba *echo*)







[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]



It all started when I twisted the lid of the Olde E



And see E-A-R-double-O-E... ... ... (??)



Where my motherfuckering siccmade jacked at



Cuz that's the only one I could use



When I saw you at the war yeah when I lifted you out your shoes



It was the pressure from the twenty game (the twenty game)



Felt like it could split your chest whide open wit it



Well nigga you should when I'm round talkin that shit



Bout the nigga that's my kin-folks



Should knew the wheel while you was givin up that info...



...mation, I'll be of that Parry Mason



When I hit em all up, creep em all up, kill em all up, fill em all up



Real deal, dig a ditch give em hit a licc then take the grip



Put em in the back of the Cadillac show em how my Mini-Mac gonna act



My tactics is lethal



Leave the whole town hella smokey 



like that band that steppin over dead people



It's like that, and you wouldn't know it cuz I'ma cool ass mufucca



Then dump on a gang of succas 



as I wait for the city to heat up like a Hot Pepper



Gotta whole load fulla Evian 



and a trunck fulla FO take no's and I can't let go



Catch you at yo show slippin



Hoes trippin, rows rippin in the street after I heat my heat of



I'm of the hook with this siccmade shit, straight made nigga



Fuck it, pass me the straight lace liquor to the face nigga



Off the Thunder Burger and Kool-Aid and O 8



Easy on the liver still make me kill a nigga



Split you head like a pineapple



Die natural!



Five at your dome send em home in a pinebox



Lift you out your sox



Pay attention to the Glock



Half pass a niggas ass where aimen at the grass take suitcase fulla cash and
mash



16 in the clip crumble the urb roll a sliff bout to whatch you brain split in
half



Bloody bath watter, infried nigga nuts and bones locaded at home I think him
name is Tyrone



But you know...







[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]



That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods



Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left



And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away



Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre



Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup



Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up



(X-caliba *echo*)







[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]



You can call me black Sadam Huseain



Pump St Idees through my wein ass nigga



You can see me on the southside of the street



Man remembered by the ((opposet)) nigga that flod the city



Get ready for some pretty if you sicc like Frank Nitty



Sucked blood from my momas tittie - instead of milk



Played murda muzicc in my tape deck - instead of Silkk



Enden up killen one of them motherfuckers 



So fuck them hoes, they like Grim 



havin killin niggas like they gots to go



With the 380M - got high til seven



Jump in what you call it headin throughwards heaven, whit my



50 sacc of some shit, that'll make you get there



About 11:30 with your T-shirt dirty, 



I'm worthy strapped like James as ventured in this faulty game



In a mainframe, that I bucked in ruff terrain, then hit the plane



15 guts on a tripple beam scale nigga



acual contact from the strap that I hale nigga







[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]



That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods



Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left



And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away



Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre



Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup



Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up



(X-caliba *echo*)







[Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung]



They got this motherfucker twisted up



And from the sound of the barrle I got hella motherfuckers runnin up



What should I do about these fuckin fleas?



Give em all A-1 and put they seeds in they weed



Figga a way out this nigga I know you got me in file



But I got you on scanner so plan anotha way (anotha way)



Told me it was (?Coda steady?)



But I catch you slippin like pimpin 



and shake bankin like (?Trail Leonard?)



Hit your mind workin these swine 



tripp time get's deepa as you meat the Grim reapa 



in the form of a man double M 24 5 got your brains leaking I'm peakin



That's why these nigga wanna rip keep me



I'm rollin squeeky and what you want call it



witta .45 in my pocket and I'm a young alcoholic



Like P-Folks I had to make it happen



Sacramentos most wanted I gotta keep packin, cuz of that



My favorite cousin just go four years



And when his little brotha died he showed me no tears



your point is you get deep as the ocean



Take a shiesty niggas blood and rub it on like lotion



It was like: once apon a time a long time ago



I was sticken 9 milis in a pussy hole



Get of the Ol 8 old Murda moe then i gotta go to a spot



when they don't know I'm the leath nigga given up my info







[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]



That motherfucker kept sniffin for goods



Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck left



And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta away



Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre



Wit the windows up, must have had gin in the cup



Cuz I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up



(X-caliba *echo*)