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(Lynch Talking)About to leave the studio it's 9-11, 2002Up in here wid my nigga C-O once againYa know what I'm sayin?And the motherfuckin' bad news isWhat? Suspicion is backYa know, here we go(Brotha Lynch Hung)I got that spit venom shit that'll wrinkle up ya denim shitFuck them niggaz they all hoes I run up in them quickTurn 'em into statues, lead tattoos I stayTwenty four deep and bring niggaz the bad news likeThe Metro Section I spit petrol like gas nozzlesBang wid my thangs nigga, you the last modelsFrom the Garden to the creep moduleI'm off the bottle makin' money like I won the lottoYou wanna follow wid ya tongue stickin' out ready to lickthese nutsHad a dream watchin' me get out the four door to get thesegutsI spit flames, beat niggaz like Rick James get aimCause like Pac's attraction I grip thangsAnd it's hard and cold it'll make ya heart a coldI sweat so much I'm so hot, I'm hard to holdAnd I'll tell you somethin' else fool Suspicion for lifeLetras de cancionesHave you comin' home from work late, missin' ya wifeAnd ya kids and ya cribs tore up, I leave ya ribs tore upNuttin' else better I do, than cut up cold cutsI'm a meat eatin', skin collector been connectedWid some niggaz that'll cut you in the neck and leave youbutt nakedLayin' dead in ya Lexus, what you doing?Fryin' niggaz like they do out in Texas, Why?Lyin' to niggaz cause they fakin' the loveYou be the one takin' the slugAnd you show me that you ain't got no love for me I'm donecuz(Hook)Niggaz that say they real fake as fuckHave you left set up dead in a vacant lotNo matter what they can talk all that gangsta shitIf ya gangsta walk still ain't shitI break ya loccs and run up in yO shit(Suspicion)Look we roll shit blow shit, I been blue shitOld shit new shit, keep it true shitAlways in a blue fit, and old school kicksPosted where they move bricks if it was me quickI sold shit stole shit, I had to move shitOld shit new shit, to keep a few chipsMan my life wasn't nothin' sweetAt fifteen years old was livin' out on the streetWith rocks between my teeth like where the fuck I'm gon'sleepGrandmomma don't want me and I ain't seen dad for weeksAnd momma ain't never been there for meIt's like she probably never cared to shed a tear for meSo now the whole world's like a glare to meThrough all these hard times can barely see prepared toleaveBut I dare one of these cats wid no haps for they fameThis rap's for the tracks yeh they wack but they flamesTryna dirty up my name, I leave 'em stainedGunshots to middle of they brain, I leave 'em drainedDuck cops from here to the gate, I leave 'em dazedBust shots at all of them cops this shit be crazedCause fuck goin' back to that place I take the graveWhether you see me go out ridin' or as a slaveJust look at how they got us, dealin' wid dramaFuck it pour another shot of that Vodka load up the chopper(Hook x2)(Brotha Lynch Hung)I'm young black shit wid mack shitIn the back shit make 'em do back flipsYou must be off that crack shitFuckin' wid the tactics got spitz like a gat spitAnd I'm gonna rip a nigga to bits for instanceI burn incense and think about shitI don't need your ten cents juts break 'em right quick (thenwhat?)Shake 'em right quick (then what?), make 'em bite dickYou suck lug nuts ya love nuts I plug stuff, cut guts upYa tough luck punk, fuckin' wid flames around gasHeat, enough heat to cook ya turkey fried deep likeLouisiana blow sacks like Santana mightRun up in ya spot with the dark blue bandana rightWid banana clips takin' you out, run in ya houseLet the nine milli cum in ya mouthRunnin' the South like Cash MoneyI bang niggaz in the head you a crash dummyI mash niggaz(Hook x2) From Letras Mania