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Brotha Lynch Hung » Went This Way
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	Two years ago, a friend of mine told me to write me a tight ass rhyme and so I, I wrote this rhyme that I am about to say the rhyme is tight and it went this way And I'm on my briefcase wit some crumbled weed shystie niggas keep staring at me I had my 45 and my 44 i put one on my briefcase so them niggas'll know lives get took that's it just like a book do you want a meathook smoke a fat blunt on my couch wit my feet up while you get took fo yo skrill hundred dolla bill take yo pill muthafucka while you bullshitin dis shit is real i ain't no twelve inch can't mix me up in this shit i got full clips and alone i do my shit so trust me you information faulty and i wouldn't eat you cause your meat's too salty i'd rather, step through a fire ring wit some gasoline draws than fuck wit you cause you the type of nigga that'll tell'em everything you saw, wit my big bad forty auto mag twenty sac nigga get yo money back if you don't think you of that sliznack motivated, totally undominated i got that sickness and the remedy, my momma made it easy fo me i didn't have to work fourteen years old in the backseat drinkin o.e. like kirk now just the other day a friend of mine told me to write me a tight ass rhyme and so i, i wrote this ryhme that i'm about to say the rhyme is tight and it went this way i know it's been a long time, i shouldn't left you without a tight rhyme to step to think of all them weak ass albums you slept through well i'm yo medicine, sorry i kept you went to my brother's house, without a doubt twisted one up with the nigga, smoked'em out got to writin some of dat sicc made my own bacc fade type script high enough to write a whole career full of shit i mean blitzed, toe up, drug cost up, ready to fuck, throw up man i got my cheddah cheese ass nigga know what i don't hold no grudges i just ain't fuckin wit you no mo, mission stay sicc made and don't let nothin penetrate my barracade barracade barracade barracade, barracade
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