Brotha Lynch Hung - Refuse To Lose lyrics

(Chorus 4x) [Lynch & D-Dubb] I re-fuse to lose f** them 22's I got an AP 10 and a throwaway Tech 9 So you know you can't f** with mine (Verse 1) If I was standing in the dark letting my nine spark Maybe in the morning, motherf**ers might feel me yet It's that nine tech n***a that got them motherf**ers tore up As I smash of in a seven deuce cut, you holding your gut Talking about What the f** you smoking on? All dome as the chronics got me gone n***a it's on On 'til the slugs come out At night I do my murder red rum so tight I'ts the third strike n***a So now I'm aiming up at your dome 'Bout to make your brain split and hit the Fleetwood Brome I'm like Richard Chase, mixed with Al Capone If you want some ripgut sh** n***a Yeah, I got it sewn So bone to the crib, or get your wig split fool, with the tech chrome And say the alphabet backwards fast or find you a brand new dome A criminal minded n***a that gots tefs in his nine So head to the East side, cause it's red rum time, n***a (Chorus) (Verse 2) n***a, it's that-Sac of Indo-k**afornia State of mind Where n***as put their gangster gear on, and bend corners In a Chev 69 Wire rims You can't see me With their neighborhood flags and their black Carthart beenie I'm like a genie As I scoop through the hood and get up to no good And I wish you would Test my tech, cause n***a, it loves to take out necks And empty backs out, so I max out 350 on the black top More smoke than chronic smoking Loced out sherm, cla**ic perm In my ashtray, there's always a roach Hit the left lane in case one times approach I got, 5 warrants and some '89 tags 17 in the clip of my, auto mag I'ts sad I gotta watch my back, cause these n***as wanna throw me up in a black Leather sack, and throw me over their back But f** that Why you think I got extended clips Cuz im so high Most of the time I just can't miss, n***a (Chorus)