[Grisly voice]
Yeah, the Baby Killa's back up in this m*********a...
Straight from tha grave,
it gets so deep right under the Garden Blocc...
Oh, me? Ya can just call me Manson...Yeah, we met before...
But ya forget that I ain't gonna die so I'm back up this m*********a...
So peep the m**********' words from the dead man, yeah...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
And when I pack me a gun and, oh, when I was young
I dreamed of feedin' them n***** soufle (soofley) a' la dunn
m*********as get hung, my bullet weights a ton
The Garden Blocc Don, the valley of the slum
Tha cannibalistic n**** that got that 9 millimeter gun
That n**** that n**** that got them m********** on the run
They thought that I was done but Lynch is not the one
To go out from a gunshot wound, n****, I'm not done that soon
b******, they come but nut just like the rest, caught one in the chest
Shoulda wore a vest and, oh, what a b***** mess
Puffin' off the cess, dealin' with the stress, killin' off the less...
Fortunate but they trip when my nine gets sick
Them n***** either die or stay stuck on my d***
Cause I'm that n**** they call Lynch, I got'em n***** fiendin' for my s***
I empty clips, drinkin', f*****' with tha splift
And it's the n**** that kill for reason, it's the Season Of The Sicc
That's why I got the urge to shoot that p**** c***
And kill off that infant, so what is my intent?
To show them m********** livin' life ain't s***
I gets to gettin' real sick and eatin' b***** c***, the baby killa s***
Put 'em in a grave with an empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
Cause livin' with tha Tripple-Six
Ya learn to f*** devil in his mouth and eat the s*** out of his b****
And I admit: my brain is kinda sick
But now I'm like J. Dahmer, I'm chewin' up all the evidence
I killed to cure my fit, the human meat fix
Bitin' to the skin rips, that sick n****, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...
[Grisly voice]
Yeah, do ya wanna know what that Siccness is?
The Siccness is when you hug your mama and ya d*** get hard
Or you walk in on your baby's mama and she's suckin' your son's d***
That's the m**********' Siccness...
So, ya m********** don't ya forget that s***...
And don't forget where the Sicc came from...
That n**** Lynch...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I take my mouth off up that cog and trip
Cause eatin' dead p**** c*** I make ya sick
But it's the Season so my reason is legit
I'm havin' fits, I dreamed of eatin' b***** p**** c***'s since I was six
I fiend for a dead p**** on d***, I gotta skits
Meanin' I don't give a s*** about ya biyatch
That n**** that's from tha Blocc, killin' up tha cog, so, n****, shii-it
Baby barbeque ribs and guts and, ah, don't let me get too deep
Fryin' baby nuts, s**** get ate out alike, dank is what crooked teeth heard
I pull the Tampax-string out and straight put in work
It wouldn't work without that sick, so page a n**** quick
So I can serve ya some of this s*** and have ya murderin' ya biyatch
Cause me and Triple-Six grew up f*****' b****** up the gut
With tha 9-millimeter clip, Season of the Sicc, picture this:
p**** meat ripped in a pan full of nuts and guts and intestines and s***
I gets ta chewin' on tha c***, the sick, they just don't understand it
It's so outlandish, chewin' n**** nuts to cure my fit
The human meat fix, bitin' 'til the skin rips, that sick n****, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...
Yeah, the Baby Killa's back up in this m*********a...
Straight from tha grave,
it gets so deep right under the Garden Blocc...
Oh, me? Ya can just call me Manson...Yeah, we met before...
But ya forget that I ain't gonna die so I'm back up this m*********a...
So peep the m**********' words from the dead man, yeah...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
And when I pack me a gun and, oh, when I was young
I dreamed of feedin' them n***** soufle (soofley) a' la dunn
m*********as get hung, my bullet weights a ton
The Garden Blocc Don, the valley of the slum
Tha cannibalistic n**** that got that 9 millimeter gun
That n**** that n**** that got them m********** on the run
They thought that I was done but Lynch is not the one
To go out from a gunshot wound, n****, I'm not done that soon
b******, they come but nut just like the rest, caught one in the chest
Shoulda wore a vest and, oh, what a b***** mess
Puffin' off the cess, dealin' with the stress, killin' off the less...
Fortunate but they trip when my nine gets sick
Them n***** either die or stay stuck on my d***
Cause I'm that n**** they call Lynch, I got'em n***** fiendin' for my s***
I empty clips, drinkin', f*****' with tha splift
And it's the n**** that kill for reason, it's the Season Of The Sicc
That's why I got the urge to shoot that p**** c***
And kill off that infant, so what is my intent?
To show them m********** livin' life ain't s***
I gets to gettin' real sick and eatin' b***** c***, the baby killa s***
Put 'em in a grave with an empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
Cause livin' with tha Tripple-Six
Ya learn to f*** devil in his mouth and eat the s*** out of his b****
And I admit: my brain is kinda sick
But now I'm like J. Dahmer, I'm chewin' up all the evidence
I killed to cure my fit, the human meat fix
Bitin' to the skin rips, that sick n****, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...
[Grisly voice]
Yeah, do ya wanna know what that Siccness is?
The Siccness is when you hug your mama and ya d*** get hard
Or you walk in on your baby's mama and she's suckin' your son's d***
That's the m**********' Siccness...
So, ya m********** don't ya forget that s***...
And don't forget where the Sicc came from...
That n**** Lynch...
[Brotha Lynch Hung]
I take my mouth off up that cog and trip
Cause eatin' dead p**** c*** I make ya sick
But it's the Season so my reason is legit
I'm havin' fits, I dreamed of eatin' b***** p**** c***'s since I was six
I fiend for a dead p**** on d***, I gotta skits
Meanin' I don't give a s*** about ya biyatch
That n**** that's from tha Blocc, killin' up tha cog, so, n****, shii-it
Baby barbeque ribs and guts and, ah, don't let me get too deep
Fryin' baby nuts, s**** get ate out alike, dank is what crooked teeth heard
I pull the Tampax-string out and straight put in work
It wouldn't work without that sick, so page a n**** quick
So I can serve ya some of this s*** and have ya murderin' ya biyatch
Cause me and Triple-Six grew up f*****' b****** up the gut
With tha 9-millimeter clip, Season of the Sicc, picture this:
p**** meat ripped in a pan full of nuts and guts and intestines and s***
I gets ta chewin' on tha c***, the sick, they just don't understand it
It's so outlandish, chewin' n**** nuts to cure my fit
The human meat fix, bitin' 'til the skin rips, that sick n****, so sick
Livin' dead ever since...