Lirik Lagu Deep Down - Brotha Lynch Hung F/ Mr. Doctor
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[Brotha Lynch]Yeah I could load a 9 up everyday, but whyMy locc's told me homie make them tapesAnd keep that 24 block aliveBut if I feel I'm in need, I got's to rideCarry a 9 for straight business, not just a sideMan it's the night-mare, creepin up in the cutI'm hittin dice games, barbeques, no matter whatThe things I've seen'll make ya throw upFlaunt your flag, shoot your gats, hit your dankWhere I'm from that's how ya grow upMan it's that wicked and 9 millimeterCarrier bein stereo-typed dailyYa got's to feel me, foo it's that babyKillas run around everyday that's why I'm strappedYa heard it I got my own back-fadeOut into the 'lac and hit the city of SacThem homies given me thatBut you got them fools that want a foe thenThey wonderin why I'm carryin me a 12 gauge pumpMan I ain't no punkThe average everyday thug that's how it soundsI'm defendin myself, and loadin that miliAnd leaving em layin
[Chorus] X 4Deep down, there's a place for hope
[Mr. Doctor]I guess it's hard to explain why I'm feelin how I'm feelinI guess I'm feelin sorrow cus my homies got some stealinAnd foos would say that it's my fault I betSee cus I wasn't strapped yo, but I can't fuck my setHow could I know that them foos would blast?Later on, on my folksIt's funny how this bangin's got its different strokesI think about my loccs and how they made itThough I'm stressin from the factThey gotta suffer from a bullet holeAnd Mr. Doctor just don't have hope loccIt's only been a month, since my last down partner got smokedAnd rivals is deep, up in my city fooSince I'm on the underground team, I can't have no peaceMy life is tore up so I guess I'm stuckYeah, I got my St. Ides, I'm turnin it upTo get drunk, then I post up on the streetWhile I say to myself, for the blockHomie rest in peace
[Chorus] X 4
[Brotha Lynch]They say that ain't the way to handle that type funkBut now I'm loadin up the strap, smokin on that bluntJust cus the Brotha Hung is flag-upWhat that mean, I can't ride?Why G's up in my face, I'm bout to help them rideI keep a low pro, drink the 4-0And lounge until it's time to goShinin up the forty-foRollin up the boogey-boo, indoAnd hopin if I should die, before I'm highThat they bury me in 50 pounds of chocolate thaiI got them homies from the south-side givin it up andThem homies from the east-side slangin that stuff andI'm right up in the middle tryin to hang on andTryin not to end up like them niggas doin time in the penBut then againI'm down for when the homies is ready to roll em upYou know, stick in a dark-blue cutAnd as I'm creepin through ya setTrip, don't get caught up, shot upThe gardenblock locc's, man we leave em layin
[Chorus] X 4
[Chorus] X 4Deep down, there's a place for hope
[Mr. Doctor]I guess it's hard to explain why I'm feelin how I'm feelinI guess I'm feelin sorrow cus my homies got some stealinAnd foos would say that it's my fault I betSee cus I wasn't strapped yo, but I can't fuck my setHow could I know that them foos would blast?Later on, on my folksIt's funny how this bangin's got its different strokesI think about my loccs and how they made itThough I'm stressin from the factThey gotta suffer from a bullet holeAnd Mr. Doctor just don't have hope loccIt's only been a month, since my last down partner got smokedAnd rivals is deep, up in my city fooSince I'm on the underground team, I can't have no peaceMy life is tore up so I guess I'm stuckYeah, I got my St. Ides, I'm turnin it upTo get drunk, then I post up on the streetWhile I say to myself, for the blockHomie rest in peace
[Chorus] X 4
[Brotha Lynch]They say that ain't the way to handle that type funkBut now I'm loadin up the strap, smokin on that bluntJust cus the Brotha Hung is flag-upWhat that mean, I can't ride?Why G's up in my face, I'm bout to help them rideI keep a low pro, drink the 4-0And lounge until it's time to goShinin up the forty-foRollin up the boogey-boo, indoAnd hopin if I should die, before I'm highThat they bury me in 50 pounds of chocolate thaiI got them homies from the south-side givin it up andThem homies from the east-side slangin that stuff andI'm right up in the middle tryin to hang on andTryin not to end up like them niggas doin time in the penBut then againI'm down for when the homies is ready to roll em upYou know, stick in a dark-blue cutAnd as I'm creepin through ya setTrip, don't get caught up, shot upThe gardenblock locc's, man we leave em layin
[Chorus] X 4
