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lirik lagu my papers – brotha lynch hung

[verse 1: brotha lynch hung]
i used to push twenty*fo’ deep in ’92 like cocaine
had them gangsta n*ggas riled up doin’ it wit no name
stayin’ at the roach motel two for two cheese hamburger deals
doin’ shows in broke down clubs just to get a meal (just to get a meal)
i’ma keep it real it was all sk!lls that paid your bills
and the fact that you don’t pay n*ggas that sh*t gon’ get you k!lled
but don’t worry about me partna’, like i said i’m already dead
and i hold this infrared point blank range steadily at your head
’cause i’m a blocc n*gga you know what happens when you f*ckin’ wit us (f*ckin’ wit us)
we cut your tongues off switch n*ggas and stuff bl**dy ’em up (bl**dy ’em up)
run up in the cut, fucc it up, rough you up and put you up (put you up)
these broke n*ggas don’t give a mothaf*ck (mothaf*ck)
i want that meal ticket and we never will kick it ’cause you funny style
still wouldn’t f*ck wit you even if you gave me my money now
funny how ridaz get bought up, you about to get caught up like bo king
you be gettin’ n*ggas that’s why you ain’t got no team n*gga

[chorus: brotha lynch hung]
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
so f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
[verse 2: brotha lynch hung]
i was young dumb full of cum full of o.e. and rum
spittin’ chunks of meat all heat always givin’ up where i’m from
in every verse 24 blocc, i don’t give a fucc
suppose to be in the studio but i’m somewhere drunk f*ckin’ up
but like too short i ain’t trippin’
used to be a record thing now it’s a new sport put your clip in
i heard you be dreamin’ about n*ggas in ski masks with bottles of black molasses
ran up in your pad quick and woke your ass up wit the magnum
i could have been platinum, a loc’ went bad when you jacked him
you gettin’ old like carl weathers you ain’t got no action jackson
i’m mirror watchin’ when i’m packin’ n*gga give me my sh*t
you the type of n*gga that’ll pay for hits i don’t pay for sh*t
’cause i’m broke you wanted it that why for some reason
couldn’t find you for nuttin’ ever since i did season
of da sicc, pick ’em off like deion everything you see me on
is stolen in your life pure wit’ a colon seriously until it’s over
i’ma always be at that ass wit’ a butcher knife
askin’ where you put your wife and why’d i took your life
houses got bought up you about to get caught up like bo king
you be gettin’ n*ggas that’s why you got no team

[chorus: brotha lynch hung]
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
so f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
so f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
[verse 3: brotha lynch hung]
sh*t it’s gettin’ to the point where i’ma smash on everybody
and it’s gettin’ to the point where i don’t f*ck wit n0body
believe it i tuck the ol’ shotty in the glove compartment
hit the town wit the pound, it’ll be ground round if you start sh*t
i spark sh*t, that heat you up and cool you off sh*t
no choice for relinkin’ homes i’ma get my profit
we struggled for years on the bus wit a record out
if it wasn’t for shows i’ll pull out the tec to take you out
hit the cut and lay low ’till i get my sh*t right
interrupt your day with fadeo’z put 44 holes in your windpipe
they know i’m… i’m sicker than sick when i split your sh*t
leave you coughin’ up liver bits, f*ckin’ n*ggas’ll get your grip
it ain’t safe, n*gga where was yo’ faith? we could of blew up
better watch how you do stuff can’t wait for the new stuff
it’s called lynch by inch i bit your b*tch on the ground
i say where’s the money? swiss account
b*tch d*mn! that n*gga’s tryin’ to get me for my papers
bam! hit her up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
so f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off

[chorus: brotha lynch hung]
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
so f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
d*mn! that n*gga tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit him up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
n*gga f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
d*mn! n*ggas tryin’ to stick me for my papers
bam! hit ’em up wit’ enough lead got away wit the caper
ran! to the 1964 and smashed off
f*ck your record company i’m about to blast off
d*mn!
[interlude: brotha lynch hung]
you know what i’m saying n*gga? (sh*t)
can’t do that sh*t for ever n*gga (you know you can’t)
you know what i’m saying? you gots to pay n*ggas (that’s real)
you know what i’m saying
f*ck all that sh*t, oh i’ma get mine n*gga
can’t stop that sh*t (can’t stop that sh*t)
you know (i know) back here where i’m supposed to be, you know? (where that at?)
it’s all siccmade music n*gga (you know)
now what?

[bridge: brotha lynch hung]
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
n*ggas tryna get me for my papers
n*ggas tryna get me for my papers
n*ggas tryna get me for my papers
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
n*ggas tryna get me for my papers
n*ggas tryna get me for my papers
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
n*ggas tryna get me for my papers
n*ggas tryna get me for my papers
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
n*ggas tryna stick me for my papers
tryna stick me for my…

[outro: brotha lynch hung]
rest in peace biggie and 2pac
you know what i’m saying
n*ggas put it down
shouts to them real n*ggas putting that real deep sh*t
you know what i’m saying, you know who you are
you know what i’m saying, making n*ggas cry over your sh*t
sh*t, making n*ggas ride to your sh*t
i like that type of sh*t you know what i’m saying?
that drunk, high, ride, night time sh*t
d*mn!

- brotha lynch hung

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