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Correct Can I Have A Napkin? Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Brotha Lynch Hung
►
Correct Can I Have A Napkin?
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Lyrics:
I might just eat your brains to see what's in your soul I'm high drunk wet angry They gone have to capture me I'm cookin' 'em up in a factory Nigga ya dead now Nigga ya dead now Can I have a napkin? I eat his insides out nobody knew what happened I ran down the avenue, all red like mac10 Jailhouse shank tako nigga he died laughin' Blue dickies bloodied up always keep em saggin' Head trauma, you couldn't even fix it up wit aspirin As if Niggas wanna eat but I eat ask em Nigga you wanna certified dope record cash em Thats why I'm STRANGE on that ass I gotta passion Only reason I spit like this nigga I drink acid Modern day Ca$his Roy Jones Mayweather You couldn't tell me nothin' bout sicc nigga we stay together Sleep in the same bed runnin' through the same bread Still spittin' fire if you know the rap games dead GRRR I eat spaghetti intestines so I don't give a fuck about your funny ass tactics And I don't wanna run up in your stomach PEPTO All you other horrorcore rappers DREP though Run up in em Cut em in the mother fuckin neck though No more rappin' no need to use the Techno My rhymes like lead bullets leavin' your set wet though I challenge you motherfuckers I'ma broke nigga so lets go Tech N9ne Sacramento cannibal I eat Breath stink like human meat got pieces in my teeth Can I Get A Toothpick? Overdose on 24 pills that way you guilty motherfuckers know what the truth is Niggas think they know me they callin' me a OG Fuck all your sympathy nigga you can die slowly Poisonous get your boys in this I take em by the dozen Nigga I get devious that was my little cousin Nigga I'm just sick in the head you thought I wasn't? I'll make a nigga drink my piss guzzle n love it! I might just eat your brains to see what's in your soul I'm high drunk wet angry They gone have to capture me I'm cookin' em up in a factory Nigga ya dead now Nigga ya dead now Excuse me, can I have a napkin? I'm drippin' like a vampire when he ain't rappin' I eat rappers up, I admit, I eat swine With a little squeeze from the lemon and lime Me I hate women all the time (I really mean) exes Dream about Leavin' em in the back of the Lexus Cut throat legs spreaded open like Texas Razor blade pussy lips nigga she died gaspin' Murder without a motive its ya boy I gotta passion N I be puffin on that kush like Ashton, Sebastian You don't wanna fuck around gattin' Music either I gotta couple of them fat ones
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