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lirik lagu home of the body bagz – insane poetry

[intro: cyco & pope locc]
aye, f*ck it
thought you know we was lying and conquering n*gga
n*ggas ain’t knew
this is nitebreed n*gga sh*t (naw)
you in the home of body bags
aye, ah
motherf*ckers get rolled up like doja sacks around here (tripping on the o.e.)
i thought they knew (i don’t got the time for the o.e.)
and i’m p*ssed, i gotta bring it all for ’em, here it’s like this
home of body bags
[verse 1: cyco & pope locc]
i creep through the streets with my n*ggas and my piece (uh huh)
roll in buckets and the juice, f*cking n*ggas with the*
f*ck the police, cause the peaceful n*ggas over and they grеase motherf*ckers with somе heat
make a move and you’ll get beat (haha)
home of body bags fool when it’s done (uh huh)
tape off the scenery and notified, then it’s fun (then it’s fun)
sh*t is brung to yo block to execute (uh huh)
mac*11s c*cked
n*ggas raid yo block ready to shoot

n*ggas losing flesh when k!llers wet up sh*t (uh huh)
f*cking with these scandalous hoes and look to get set up quick (ah)
guess what b*tch? nightbreed is up all day
b*tch, you know my name, i’m insane (ha)
with half my brain (uh huh)
blown out from the shrooms making rap tunes
cause rap sells with rap tales
we’ll take you to the land where all the crack sells, we’ll blackmail
use blackmail tactics to get that cream
pistol seen in the room hold the n*ggas around the triple beam (uh huh)
zombies gleam at a chance to get a blast (yeah)
n*ggas scream “get the cash!”
bullet straps are quick to blast
quick to mash, time to dash
like seasoned salt
tweaking for the motherf*cking system cause we all falling victim
it’s some crazy sh*t (ah), that will f*ck with yo mind (uh huh)
that’s why you’ll find (yeah), i’m high and strapped with my nine (n*gga)
millimeter gat, even though i rap and make capes living
in the k!lling fields where everybody want they case (n*gga)
[chorus 1: cyco & pope locc]
it’s the home of the body bags
n*gga, k!ller cali (cali)
where n*ggas get dead for f*cking with a n*ggas caddy (uh huh)
it’s the home of the body bags
n*gga, that’s where it is (i’m right here babe, yeah)
where n*ggas run up and stick a gauge in your ribs

[verse 2: pope locc & cyco]
ha, ha, bloodslide
i’m coming to bring the ruckus for you motherf*ckers
hustler as in hip, get this nightbreed with them pink n*ggas (come on)
simp n*ggas retreat cause see we beat and break n*ggas like beat street till they greased
(blow)
we’ll come through your vicinities with ten of these black entities (haha)
twelve gauge, double hennies
plenty of avenues to choose when it comes to blasting fools (ah)
i’m asking who’s the first to make the eleven o’clock k!ll, n*gga
uh huh, i got tools in my box for you b*st*rds
when i was sixteen with the ratchet to twist you n*ggas caps backwards (blow)
it’s drastic in the gutter for you b*tch n*ggas and busters
cause like, robin harrison, sh*t, i’ll pull that motherf*cker (ha)
so just scoot your b*tch ass over and let this young n*gga show ya
you’ll get done away like fay and watch me run away like o.j
no way locc, the pope a nice dude
i shoot to k!ll like ice cube
so don’t you f*ck around and get smoked (smoked, n*gga)
because we running this motherf*cker so you sit and don’t say sh*t (don’t say sh*t)
because the west side nightbreed n*ggas ain’t the clique you want to play with (uh huh)
pick any n*gga up out of the breed and try to exceed your boundaries
you bound to get planted like a seed cause we cultivate n*ggas like weed (mmm)
heed the warning, i’ve been sworn in by my n*gga locc
then i released speaking, i’m seeking to leave n*ggas leaking they typo
ready to die for the n*ggas that i know, that nightbreed (yeah, yeah)
now you know like i know, now why the f*ck a n*gga got locked up (n*gga)
[chorus 2: cyco & pope locc]
it’s the home of the body bags
n*gga, k!ller cali (cali)
where n*ggas get dead for f*cking with a n*ggas caddy (uh huh)
it’s the home of the body bags
n*gga, that’s where it is (uh huh, yeah, sh*t)
where n*ggas run up and stick a gauge in your ribs (bow)
it’s the home of the body bags (uh)
n*gga, k!ller cali (come on)
where n*ggas get dead for f*cking with a n*ggas caddy (uh huh, yeah)
it’s the home of the body bags
n*gga, that’s where it is (come on)
where n*ggas run up and stick a gauge in your ribs (bla blow)

[outro: pope locc & cyco]
ha, uh, west side, n*gga (this is how it goes down)
1990 whatever (n*gga here)
touche n*gga (ah)
pope and cyco
f*ck everything else
nightbreed big pimping (insane poetry)
ha, n*gga, n*gga
realize it

- insane poetry

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