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    Brotha Lynch Hung / Lyrics

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    "Trouble" Lyrics

    Brotha Lynch Hung

    Album:
    track 2
    Plague [2002]
    Genre:
    Duration:00:04:22
    Rank: (−)
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    Video

    Lyrics

    [Verse 1]
    I'm hot enough to make your skin bubble
    Packin a Smith & Wesson
    Uh oh, trouble, don't say nothin
    You can tell that I'm evil
    By the arch in my eye bra
    But I ain't got no pitchfork
    I stick niggaz with this sawed-off
    Clear your porch
    Hit the floor, duck behind your couch
    If I don't hear enough screamin
    I'm burning down your house
    Apocolypse the barbarian
    I kill humanitarians
    Pillage your village
    Slaughter your children
    And rape your women

    [Verse 2]
    Bustin through that door like dun da dun da
    Bitches hit the floor on the double
    Bust off a couple
    Rounds and let it bubble
    In your belly
    Bullets dipped in formaldehyde
    So when they hit you
    You embalmed and ready
    To get carried
    Buried up in your grave
    Trust me, I'm that deadly
    Just test me if you brave
    Eklypse I stay sick
    Eith Pit, Playboy, and Lynch
    Kill a bitch nigga quick
    And run a train on his bitch nigga

    [Verse 3]
    I wish these niggaz would try to rough me for the chips
    I got metal muscle with silent tips
    And pistol grips give violent trips
    First I'm cool with you
    Then I'm not
    When you run up on me I pop pistols
    Gun up on me it's all official
    I'm chewin bone grissels
    Your family gonna miss you
    Do away done with you
    You should of had a gun with you
    I got pistols
    You know cookin utensils
    That shit that'll make your skin bubble
    Fuckin with these plague niggaz
    You gotsta know you in trouble

    [Chorus]
    Trouble (repeat 8 times)

    [Verse 4]
    I keeps it real that's the deal
    Headbuttin motherfuckers like Evander Holyfield
    I makes a full course dinner
    Out of roadkill
    Pops some pills
    Smoke some sherms
    Drunk as fuck
    Rollin up a blunt
    When I get through smokin it
    I'm comin to your house nigga
    What's for breakfast
    Kickin in your door
    At 3:47 in the morning
    I got my ?? yawnin
    Time to wake up, so I can do your bitch ass wrong
    Hear comes trouble
    Hell's angel, some niggaz call me spawn

    [Verse 5]
    Shit I'm off that ??? again
    Ready to load the pump again
    Soon as I put somethin in
    See i'ma aim it at your chin
    Blame it on your friend
    Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man
    I can make niggaz follow me like the pod piper can
    Arachnophobia, I'm the sniper man
    Doom to put 'em in the pan
    Heat 'em and eat 'em as fast as I can
    Stretch your neck like elastic like plastic
    Man I'm first, you last to land
    Tephlon bullets they crash and land
    Nigga I'm double time
    You in trouble time
    I'm a bubble mine

    [Verse 6]
    I'm titani and scandalous
    I do random hits
    Load up all my extra clips
    And lets go handle this shit
    Trouble is what we lookin fo
    Kick in that fuckin door
    Put a gag up on that hoe
    Slit that niggaz throat
    Light up the door
    Smoke until we choke
    I wish you motherfuckers would try to locc
    And get his neck broke
    Kick in the door
    Shotgun up the asshole
    Brains blown
    Eyes closed
    Nothin but trouble

    [Chorus] - repeat to end
    This song was submitted on April 15th, 2011 and last modified on November 23rd, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by Enrique Iglesias, Robert Thomas.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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