[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
I used to push twenty-fo' deep in '92 like cocaine
Had them gangsta n***as riled up doin' it wit no name
Stayin' at the roach motel two for two cheese hamburger deals
Doin' shows in broke down clubs just to get a meal (Just to get a meal)
I'ma keep it real it was all skills that paid your bills
And the fact that you don't pay n***as that shit gon' get you killed
But don't worry about me partna', like I said I'm already dead
And I hold this infrared point blank range steadily at your head
'Cause I'm a blocc n***a you know what happens when you fuckin' wit us (fuckin' wit us)
We cut your tongues off switch n***as and stuff bloody 'em up (bloody 'em up)
Run up in the cut, fucc it up, rough you up and put you up (Put you up)
These broke n***as don't give a mothafuck (Mothafuck)
I want that meal ticket and we never will kick it 'cause you funny style
Still wouldn't fuck wit you even if you gave me my money now
Funny how ridaz get bought up, you about to get caught up like Bo King
You be gettin' n***as that's why you ain't got no team n***a

[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
So fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
Fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
I was young dumb full of cum full of O.E. and Rum
Spittin' chunks of meat all heat always givin' up where I'm from
In every verse 24 Blocc, I don't give a fucc
Suppose to be in the studio but I'm somewhere drunk fuckin' up
But like Too Short I ain't trippin'
Used to be a record thing now it's a new sport put your clip in
I heard you be dreamin' about n***as in ski masks with bottles of black molasses
Ran up in your pad quick and woke your ass up wit the magnum
I could have been platinum, a loc' went bad when you jacked him
You gettin' old like Carl Weathers you ain't got no Action Jackson
I'm mirror watchin' when I'm packin' n***a give me my shit
You the type of n***a that'll pay for hits I don't pay for shit
'Cause I'm broke you wanted it that why for some reason
Couldn't find you for nuttin' ever since I did Season
Of Da Sicc, pick 'em off like Deion everything you see me on
Is stolen in your life pure wit' a colon seriously until it's over
I'ma always be at that ass wit' a butcher knife
Askin' where you put your wife and why'd I took your life
Houses got bought up you about to get caught up like Bo King
You be gettin' n***as that's why you got no team

[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
So fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
So fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
[Verse 3: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Shit it's gettin' to the point where I'ma smash on everybody
And it's gettin' to the point where I don't fuck wit nobody
Believe it I tuck the ol' shotty in the glove compartment
Hit the town wit the pound, it'll be ground round if you start shit
I spark shit, that heat you up and cool you off shit
No choice for relinkin' homes I'ma get my profit
We struggled for years on the bus wit a record out
If it wasn't for shows I'll pull out the tec to take you out
Hit the cut and lay low 'till I get my shit right
Interrupt your day with fadeo'z put 44 holes in your windpipe
They know I'm... I'm sicker than sick when I split your shit
Leave you coughin' up liver bits, fuckin' n***as'll get your grip
It ain't safe, n***a where was yo' faith? We could of blew up
Better watch how you do stuff can't wait for the new stuff
It's called Lynch By Inch I bit your bitch on the ground
I say where's the money? Swiss account
Bitch damn! That n***a's tryin' to get me for my papers
Bam! Hit her up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
So fuck your record company I'm about to blast off

[Chorus: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
Fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
So fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
Fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
Damn! That n***a tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit him up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
N***a fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
Damn! N***as tryin' to stick me for my papers
Bam! Hit 'em up wit' enough lead got away wit the caper
Ran! To the 1964 and smashed off
Fuck your record company I'm about to blast off
Damn!
[Interlude: Brotha Lynch Hung]
You know what I'm saying n***a? (Shit)
Can't do that shit for ever n***a (You know you can't)
You know what I'm saying? You gots to pay n***as (That's real)
You know what I'm saying
Fuck all that shit, oh I'ma get mine n***a
Can't stop that shit (Can't stop that shit)
You know (I know) Back here where I'm supposed to be, you know? (Where that at?)
It's all Siccmade music n***a (You know)
Now what?

[Bridge: Brotha Lynch Hung]
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
N***as tryna get me for my papers
N***as tryna get me for my papers
N***as tryna get me for my papers
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
N***as tryna get me for my papers
N***as tryna get me for my papers
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
N***as tryna get me for my papers
N***as tryna get me for my papers
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
N***as tryna stick me for my papers
Tryna stick me for my...

[Outro: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Rest in peace Biggie and 2Pac
You know what I'm saying
N***as put it down
Shouts to them real n***as putting that real deep shit
You know what I'm saying, you know who you are
You know what I'm saying, making n***as cry over your shit
Shit, making n***as ride to your shit
I like that type of shit you know what I'm saying?
That drunk, high, ride, night time shit
Damn!