Brotha Lynch Hung - 187 On 24th Street - Brotha Lynch Hung lyrics

[Chorus x2] There was a 187 on 24th Street There was a 187 on 24th Street Did you know there was a 187 on 24th Street See you can get yo mind tore up f**in wit us, we let straps bust [Brother Lynch] 21st Street, 24th and 29th Florinreau to Metiview just to say a few Every night I used to walk down the street drunk with a bottle and my strap Cuz block n***as don't sock n***as they shoot n***as in the back While you ain't lookin, yo livin get tooken, run up in yo living room With choppers tryin to take out yo poppers, it's a f**ed up interlude I was only 17 with a dream in a scheme Apparently the gangsters took me under, no wonder It must of been a gang bang thang and the slang caine game Gotta maintain range on you roaches like dirty poachers I may leave you in the game even if you broke sh** Cuz I don't give a f** I put the quarter in the slot And play the game until I see what I got, I let straps pop If I got to cuz the streets is hot too so I pop fools Never unsderstood em couldn't understand em and I'm not too Down for half them bandits so I ran it the way I had to Met him in the park after dark And it took less than seconds for the 9 to spark the park [Chorus x2] [Brother Lynch] See it's drastic, put yo body all up in plastic We drag sh** to the river and deliver yo a** quick We always bad kids didn't even like eachother that much All we did was mean mug and put that 9 on the clutch n***as could get touched, we touchin em up like Gerry Curls Every girl was trippin we ripped em to the levy wit him Said he earl like Earl the Pearl don't miss to often in a coffin Yeah that's your new world, we keep it poppin Automatics be knockin Garden Block beats Cuz we the hardest knock on the streets Jig CD's like rock on the streets We ridin yo sh**, cuzz and we lovin you for it You can't ignore it it's that rip sh** That put you in the trunk half dead with yo wig split sh** Live that sh** everyday, all day, every chance we get And in the backyard we got pits that eat raw meat in tid bits They just as Sicc I don't give a f** put the quarter in the slot And play the game until I see what I got, I let gats pop [Chorus x2] [Brother Lynch] Come against me I look in yo face and I don't see nothin but hate And even though you say you love me I'm still clinchin the weight That's how it goes in this state where blue rags murder blue rags And who lags get body bagged in Mazarati bags zipped with toe tags It's so bad, see I don't know who to trust Last time I trusted a n***a he came out with some stuff He was talkin sh** about me, n***a and I didn't know what to do So I keep that heat that'll eat like Cujo and that'll fold up ya crew Like new clothes, I choose those n***as that carry 4-4's and do those Things that'll put somethin cold up in yo toes Ya whole body froze no matter you think I should kick it wit I do it solo and that's it ... you trip