Can I Have a Napkin? - Brotha Lynch Hung

Can I have a napkin?

I eat his insides out nobody knew what happened

I ran down the avenue, all red like Mack 10

Jailhouse shank tickle nigga he died laughin

Blue dickies bloodied up always keep em saggin

Head trauma, you couldn’t even fix it up wit aspirin

As if

Niggas wanna eat but I eat ask em

Nigga you wanna certified dope record cash em

Thats why I’m STRANGE on that ass I gotta passion

Only reason I spit like this nigga I drink acid

Modern day Ca$his Roy Jones Mayweather

You couldn’t tell me nothin bout sicc nigga we stay together

Sleep in the same bed runnin through the same bread

Still spittin fire if you know the rap games dead GRRR

I eat spaghetti intestines so I don’t give a fuck about your funny ass tactics

And I don’t wanna run up in your stomach

PEPTO

All you other horrorcore rappers

KLEPTO

Run up in em

Cut em in the mother fuckin neck though

No more rappin no need to use the techno

My rhymes like lead bullets leavin your set wet though

I challenge you motherfuckers ima broke nigga so lets go

Tech N9ne Sacramento cannibal I eat

Breath stink like human meat got pieces in my teeth

Can I Get A Toothpick?

Overdose on 24 pills that way you guilty motherfuckers know what the truth is

Niggas think they know me they callin me a OG

Fuck all your sympathy nigga you can die slowly

Poisonous get your boys in this I take em by the dozen

Nigga I get devious that was my little cousin

Nigga im just sick in the head you thought I wasn’t?

I’ll make a nigga drink my piss guzzle n love it!

I might just eat your brains to see what’s in your soul

Im high drunk wet angry

They gone have to capture me im cookin em up in a factory

Nigga ya dead now

Nigga ya dead now

Can I have a napkin?

blood on my hands last night guess what happened

I beat the murder like casey anthony, saw grass cuttin' all ass and thats the

meat

And if I ever show up at you church, dicc out, ready to flirt, kicced out

I will see dead people in the church, this house

Now known as the murder scene, lyrical leader of the rest ya you heard of me

Ill put your brains in a basket and take em to ya grandma house in a cup of acid

He dont have to get bloody buddy, bitch drink this acid

Im goin' to the car and comin bacc with a blacc plastic

As if horrorcore rappers want it with me

Ive been eatin' human meat since you been succin mamas titty

Speakin' of, seven help me rip these bitches speakers up

Youre invited to my mind come on we can grub

I might just eat your brains to see what’s in your soul

Im high drunk wet angry

They gone have to capture me im cookin em up in a factory

Nigga ya dead now

Nigga ya dead now

Excuse me, can I have a napkin?

I’m drippin' like a vampire when he ain’t rappin'

Nigga you a damn liar I’mma get to snappin'

They swell, cranium like a eggshell craccin'

Hey well thats how it goes all the time

You know spiderman he gotta put it in a rhyme

I eat rappers up, I admit, I eat swine

With a little squeeze from the lemon and lime

Me I hate women all the time (i really mean) exes

Dream about

Leavin em in the back of the lexus

Cut throat legs spreaded open like Texas

Razor blade pussy lips nigga she died gaspin

Murder without a motive its ya boy I gotta passion

N I be puffin on that kush like Ashton, Sebastion

You dont wanna fuck around gattin

Music either I gotta couple of them fat ones