Reachin` for Fame

[Lynch Talking]<br>Yeh, yeh..<br>Back at that ass once again<br>Had to do it, bitch niggaz in the town<br>Ya know what I`m sayin`<br>I`ma tell `em what I know<br>Know what I know<br><br>[Brotha Lynch Hung]<br>Word on the streets is don`t quit ya day job<br>I own spots while you won`t even get to own a spot<br>I`m unconcious sippin` on that sugary Saint I-des<br>Your raps need that Midas touch while mines rhymes<br>It`s suicide fuckin` wit me, believe it<br>I`ll tuck the fifty cal now cause some niggaz tried to get me<br>Split me in half like a joint bitch, I had it crackin`<br>Slugs went flyin` through ya window, nigga I`m the captain<br>You just rappin` to get by, might have to get to wrapped in a 6-5<br>Might have to get that truckin` and get locked<br>Nigga you taste good like sour cream and chives over potatoes<br>I`m a tornado, you just a puddle<br>A poodle talkin` shit `bout to get one put in ya noodle<br>Biotch ya got the nuts to be attackin` back at me<br>My chap I`m strapped have the fifty pound metal in the back seat<br>And it`s all legal, got me dumpin` at ya Regal wid the do dirty<br>Gotta get mine done no matter who hurt me<br>Every bitch I got I got the key to the spot<br>Better hide yo bitch before I get the key to your spot<br>Stand right over ya bed wid yo glock<br>Put one right in ya head ya whole cake<br>You ain`t even gon` play my shit rock up just like cocaine<br>You a no name I`m preachin` you still reachin` for fame<br><br>[Tall Cann]<br>Same old shit but a different day<br>Back at these niggaz like boomerangs<br>Nigga wanna come around and do my thang<br>Bangin` these niggaz for the dead issues<br>Call the paramedics to get you<br>Not fuckin` wid me in this lifetime<br>Not thinkin` in my right mind<br>Like Mike Tyson when it`s my time<br>Got these niggaz hollerin` woof<br>Baby you ain`t hard as hundred proof<br>My fellow you just a nigga that won`t fit in a puddle<br>Piece a shit, nut ridin` get your ass outta hidin`<br>Dip on 21st street ridin` there won`t be a survivor<br>Yo ass ain`t no McGuyver you done say the wrong thangs<br>The method that I got to give `em bustin` out some teeth to say the less<br>You can save the rest for later<br>I mean I`m way to major like E-major nigga<br>You claimin` my game but you ain`t nothin` but a hater<br>So when I pull out my tool scram<br>Ya riddled drain eggs and ham you in the fryin` pan<br>The way I reach out and snap a nigga like a rubber band<br>Oh no there goes another man tryna fuck wid the Siccmade fam<br>Uh, Uh again?, God damn<br><br>[CO]<br>These niggaz talk alot of shit but don`t really know about C-O<br>That sneaky motherfucka hit ya ass like ya P-O<br>When ya least expect it with the cold Smith and Wesson<br>Have my bitch, set you up at the telly get you undressin`<br>Then it`s lights camera action my pistol`s blastin`<br>Ya night went from cashin` to missin` fractions<br>But shit do happen, so ya shoulda been ready<br>Instead of doin` all that yappin` shoulda copped you somethin` heavy<br>We deadly, like rattlesnake bites y`all the taddlin` type<br>Deal wit my pain and probably rattle ya life<br>So instead of worryin` about ours you need to see<br>What`s the matter wit ya life?<br>What`s the matter wit ya life boy, ya can`t get it right?<br>What`s the matter wit ya life boy, ya can`t get a life?<br>Then spark it up this hitter does so ya can`t get no ice<br>So now ya wanna hold a grudge wid, niggaz like us<br>Beause we move shit like drugs where y`all stayin` and cus<br>And talk about the same shit all day<br>And us we on the next page and after that the next page<br>So try again the next day if you can`t fade us today<br>Practice makes perfect lil` guy stay in ya place<br><br>[Brotha Lynch]<br>I`m a Southside rider, funk provider<br>Leave you in the trunk tied up, punk ya lied to us<br>Just to tryna glock wid us get a piece of the pie wid us<br>We too O-G, I don`t fuck wid them mics cuz<br>I`m diggy down it will take plots to get me now<br>And I got the fifty thou, wanna bet ya not get me pow<br>I`m the threat starter fire starter put a hole in ya Starter<br>And you couldn`t find me cause it`s time for departure<br>Tryna get ya CD`s out, I know it start ya<br>Blame it on me I got heat, I leave ya scortched up<br>I`m on the porch and nuttin` up, Southside, keep locked<br>Where the G`s knock niggaz out for fuckin` up, we tuck `em up<br>Me and C-O and Tall Cann you can`t fuck wid us<br>We somethin` rough you niggaz be punkin` up we got pumps and stuff<br>All up in the trunk and stuff we be waitin` for attack<br>Get me sprayin` on ya pack and now you layin` on ya back<br>You ain`t payin` all ya rap taxes institute of malpractice<br>I put ya raps in a casket you half plastic<br>Patty mealed ass nigga put ya raps in the thrashbin<br>Ya clashin` wid the Burbank titan fasten ya seatbelts<br>I`m bout to make ya meat melt<br>That beer breath spittin` meat chunks at ya wig punk<br>I fear less rather hear less, you niggaz is tryna pay less<br>I make ya days less trippin` on the famous tryna get famous<br>Nigga please<br><br>[Tall Cann]<br>Ain`t nobody fuckin` wit me, this side of the city<br>Northside gangsta ride turn you liars to sissies<br>You ain`t bangin` shit so miss me wid ya bullshit comment<br>You know me, I worship drama that was a curse from my momma<br>So if you wanna bring it here boy<br>Northgate in El camino I`m right here boy<br>All day long all night strong we be runnin` the North<br>And I can have niggaz from your hood, run on ya porch<br>Ya little cowards keep the gun in ya shorts<br>We keep the blunts and the ports to blaze up<br>After ya spirit raise up you still<br>think you can rap you need to give them days up<br>It`s gonna cost you ya cap takin` cheap shots at us<br>So cuz toss me the strap and put these streets on hush<br>Because they full of wack niggaz and they speak too much<br>And now we can`t have that because we G too much<br>So I`ma end it on this fact nigga`ll bleed too much<br>Ya keep talkin`