First Degree The D.E. - D.O.A. lyrics

[Intro: Lauren Yvettea Brinson] Mr. Mannibalector It's all over the news right now You couldn't have missed it Do you have any idea what might have happened to him? Any idea at all? Everybody thinks you do Not me, but lots of people do Tell me what happened (He died a violent d**h) [Hook - Brotha Lynch Hung] (x2) He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) Give him a enema then I'mma send him a endin' Ten of the men is the minimum, I eat ten of the Tick tock on the clock taking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) [Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung] Yeah, I don't do it to get famous Somethin' 'bout the brain is aimless, body where the stain is (Right there!) I'mma be in the 6-4, a skitzo Talk another language, I may miss, ya brain split I'mma commit the hit flow til the sh** blow, this the fo' Gangin' and bangin' Lay in the playpen with the stainless Put his brain in my apron, then I'm escapin' Staple his legs, when I get the okay I'm tapin' his legs When I get the dope, hey I'm breakin' his legs Want an omelet? Betta be breakin' some eggs Duck when the bomb hit, they finna pay Smoke when the bomb lit They finna pa** it or they get the acid I'm bakin' that a** quick, rapin' that a** quick Rhymes sound like I be takin' the acid [Hook: Brotha Lynch Hung] (x2) He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) Give him a enema then I'mma send him a endin' Ten of the men is a minimum, I eat ten of the Tick tock from the clock ticking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) [Interlude] Maybe, the reason that you're so paranoid Is cause you smoke so much f**in' marijuana? Wouldn't you think? [Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung] I don't know, I just spit that sh** like I do coke (You do coke?) I do hope, you get this sh** quick cause Spydie's broke (Spydie's broke?) I do choke, I got sh** that rip that Chinese dope I do low, I got Crip sh** in me like Tiny Loc I ain't active, my nine-millimeter make n***as do back-flips And I'mma get with 'em with minimum practice Then I'mma just hit 'em with a little gymnastics My heat is plastic, I beat the ba*tard, I eat that a** quick For dinner, the winner get me, I'm acid And I don't have to be the n***a that spit it the fastest Mr. NASA, A.S.A.P. give me my cashes Muhammad Ali, n***a's whippin' they a**es Frizz was alive he'd be beatin' their a**es (Rest in peace!) I leak mola**es, couldn't see me with 24 pairs of gla**es You ain't the only one that got goons sh** that'll bloody up rooms, rips that'll bloody up shoes Hop the 6-4, pop the pistols And I can get close, enough to hit those Rock that, split those She talk a good talk, so walk a good walk Get up and let's go, it's the Mr. Piston It's the sickest, this is Get ya kids quick, take 'em and rape 'em It's the sickness, take 'em and bake 'em [Hook: Brotha Lynch Hung] (x2) He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) Give him a enema then I'mma send him a endin' Ten of the men is a minimum, I eat ten of the Tick tock on the clock taking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) [Interlude] It's quite obvious that people are addicted to your sickness And they all seem to be emulating you Perhaps you should do something about that? [Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung] I just know, n***as couldn't see me with a telescope I just hope, you tell 'em Lynch Hung comin' So tell his ho (Tell his ho!) Tell this ho, I got thick dick b**h, so smell this dope I mean sniff this coke, it's terrific sh**, drips out his nose sh**, I don't need this, I carry a machete and I rip the cleavage I carry 'em, I bury 'em I'm leavin' 'em deep-6 "Marion the Barbarian" when I grind the teeth, grit I prefer a deep-dish, I'mma be hidin' behind 'em with the meat-cleaver Momma be cryin', I fry him with the heat-seeker Prolly be tryin', I'm coming with the heat, eat sh** Peter Parker, a.k.a. Coat-hanga' Strangla' They may pray, but the Lynch is hangin' her After she's dead, Lynch Hung is bangin' guts (Strange!) Ain't no tamin' us We get your brains and your veins, and bring 'em with us Get a tat and bang it with us One thang we insane and bringin' it up My tongue hang when I'm aimin', aim at the guts n***a loc'd to the brain, wrapped all into one Hotdog a** n***as get wrapped in a bun Tongue slit, neck, brains hangin' wit Hung The real sickness is back, so get it and run I'mma get this sh** intact, when I aim it, it's done I'mma get this sh** in fact, when I aim it, it's done Sickness, get ya dick split [Hook: Brotha Lynch Hung] (x2) He won't have no head no mo', he won't have no bread no mo' I won't have to get fed no mo', he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) Give him a enema then I'mma send him a endin' Ten of the men is a minimum, I eat ten of the Tick-tock on the clock taking out many men, he's D.O.A. (Dinner On Arrival) [Outro] I can't control my own mind, my mind (Is that so?) Is uncontrollable (Well, just keep coming back and we'll figure it all out) That's all the answers I can give you (Don't worry too much) That's all the answers I can give you (All right, I'll see you tomorrow)