Текст Brotha Lynch Hung – Mask And Knife

Текст:

Intro Skit

Dude 1:
Ay my nig, is that some weed right there, my nig?
Let me hit that shit, man ya feel me? Pass that shit

Dude 2:
Naw, this ain’t weed, nigga, you know what this is

Dude 1:
I don’t know what it is…

Dude 2:
You see how shiny the cigarette is, nigga (hehehe)

Dude 1:
Awww, that crippler dippler!

G-Macc:
Roberto, let’s do it again!

Verse 1: G-Macc
Clear my throat, then I
Pull a butterfly knife out the back pocket chop it with a semi
Half of the body left in the closet
The other half in the cutlass with me
Wanna come back with the gonorrhea
Feed it to ’em, stomach empty
Look at her fifty stab wounds, hit her with ten
Droppin’ the knife, then pickin’ it up, then shiv her again
Deliver it to the meat grinder, makeshift grade weed finder
Dig her back up, eat the eyes up
Beat your wife up, keep the knife cut
I got decay, put it to your face, piece releasin’
I bury your face deep to the sea creatures’ region
I’m knee deep in your niece’s feces
Right of the pee screamin’ finger up, back from the guts, eat these

You can look at me, I’m three people
One of em axe murderer, one of em cat burglar, other one pure evil
Lil’ Ripgut ’bout to pick it up and then rape shit, sake shit
Alcohol and razor blade kit… (Let’s rip it!)

Hook:
Every single day I take a fetus with me (eat it!)
x8

Verse 2: Bleezo
Frequent, with a black ski mask and a knife!
The freak hazardous type
Got sick habits to beat rappers, deceased afterlife
I’ll sneak in your pad and catch you while you sleep stab you twice
And with no knee pads knee pads I’ll tea bag your wife!
Nigga, I breathe gass in the mic
No 2 Chainz, but I be in the trap with bean bags all right
Did I mention G-Macc, I hope you got a beast appetite
Spit at nuts and guts and chunks of human meat slabs tonight…!
I eat the beat alive, I’m a mic vulture
Play all my money, I carve you niggas like an ice sculpture
My mind’s kinda bipolar
I’m a high roller, eye swoler
I’ll probably stab a bitch before the night’s over
My flow’s dope bitch, I rhyme yola
I be eatin’ niggas like side orders, when I ride on ’em
A scoundrel
Run up in your household with a scalpel and scalp you
For one hundred thousand and counting, I suicide note’cha

Hook:
Every single day I take a fetus with me (eat it!)
x8

Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung
Everybody ’bout to get chopped up
Meat grinder, heat finder, we find her
Puttin’ her up in the cut, with a couple of razors up in her butt
Ya boy be fucking it up, and there ain’t nobody that can touch
I ain’t lyin’ nigga, I’m Kobe Bryant in the clutch
Grrr, Mask and the Knife
Run up in your house, nigga, and I’m slashin’ your wife
Kidnappin’ your infants, I’m rippin’ shit, I get into shit
Run up on ’em, gun up on ’em, I won upon ’em, sickle sick! (Grr)
Kill a nigga like cancer if he think about fucking with me
Sticking a .50 caliber up the gut, hit the kidneys
Rapin’ a nigga, scrapin’ a nigga off the plate
I think my brain is off the slate
(Ay nigga, ay, come here nigga) Altercate
Running through niggas like Walter Payton
Dead wife at the altar waiting
Grr, splitting the cleavage, I got the meat cleaver
Cuttin’ em up when I eat people!