|
(featuring Zigg Zagg, Big Dan, Mr. Doctor, Baby Reg) |
|
[Verse 1: Zigg Zagg] |
|
Comin off that high it's that double-set rapped around some funk in the trunk |
|
I got the mossberg pump and bout' to jack a punk |
|
And when that siccness hits I'm like a new stage |
|
Watch my back, hit the dank, load the gat, make the grave |
|
Twelve midnight, my niggas on the stroll, |
|
Mr. Doc, Baby Reg, Brotha Lynch, Big Dan |
|
We bout' to roll ridin deep hella high so nigga peep this, |
|
Take ya glock off safety turn around and hit the street |
|
When I got the milli pictured in my head |
|
Ain't no stoppin cuz the devil said I'm halfway dead |
|
What can I say got them evil thoughts fillin' up my Head locc to the brain |
|
On that insane tip E-B-K everyday |
|
The block-style bitch smokin' dank |
|
With my braids in my hair and I'm riding on a full tank |
|
My nine on the side going Both ways, |
|
Peel a niggas cap and then I'm sideways |
|
Chorus: repeat 2X |
|
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K |
|
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way |
|
Locc to da brain... |
|
[Verse 2: Big Dan] |
|
Now try to peep this watt G straight low killa rollin five and the deuce |
|
Locc to the brain set-trippin' after fucking with that sick juice |
|
I fuckin' pump twelve rounds of that knot block the plot |
|
(you down to ride?) yeah we fuckin' with them body drops stop |
|
Hit the lights there them niggas go |
|
Reach for your flags your straps and roll the windows low |
|
Roll slow these niggas actin like they know us are here, |
|
They fuckin' duckin' dodging bullets damn I emptied the clip |
|
They bustin' back trying to hit us from the blind side Low, |
|
A fucking doughnut and the twelve-gauge pump |
|
Hang from the window what's up now nigga yee-ah |
|
L-O-C to the brain and gauge blast equals rest in pain |
|
Insane loc so a nigga don't give a fuck |
|
It's in the hearts so these rival niggas straight stuck |
|
I let the gauge loose damn I've never seen so much blood |
|
It's all for gang and the gang shows no love fool |
|
So if you ever see us rollin through your side it ain't all good, |
|
I suggest you hide |
|
Chorus: 1X |
|
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K |
|
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way |
|
[Verse 3: Mr. Doctor] |
|
Come with me deep see how I'm bout to do it for this |
|
Back with tight big shit |
|
Them fools that say they'll kill the stinking hits not doing shit |
|
When they get lit up on they turf |
|
So move on with they life one even left |
|
That since that time I haven't heard from him |
|
Now that's my locc right damn, where'd you go folks? |
|
Remember we're supposed to be the ones with brains this locc's |
|
So nigga fuck it, i'll do it like your ass is dead |
|
And touch them niggas with the Mac-11 out of the shell |
|
I'm burning up the villiage nigga life is a bitch |
|
Somes I set the tags and name on the wall you fucking snitch |
|
So you'll make a switch on how you're gang-banging |
|
L-O-C and to the brain real locc's don't play that way |
|
See your niggas on the other side is best to hit the floor |
|
And watch them flesh-shredders bout' to rip your asshole apart |
|
And now it is said and what was said |
|
Will come to pass from Mr. Doc amen, God bless your ass |
|
Chorus: repeat 2X |
|
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K |
|
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way |
|
[Verse 4: Baby Reg] |
|
See I was standing in the middle of a circle cuz' a nigga is trying to jack me |
|
With a nine-millimeter ruger and a six deep posse |
|
But I ain't going out for a jack move |
|
The only thing on my mind |
|
Is pullin my nine and just handling in these fools |
|
Now tell me what you busters want with me? |
|
They started talking about pockets on the ground you mean |
|
Empty my loot out, you fools must be smokin' sherms |
|
But i'll be glad to put my strap up in your face and let some gun powder burn |
|
Now take a lesson from a Sac-Town criminal |
|
I'm standing all alone in the street |
|
And talkin shit to your circle and ain't no blastin y'all must be bluffin |
|
Threw up my sign and grabbed my nine-millimeter nine |
|
And started bustin on niggas and watching every muther fucker try to run |
|
That locc to da brain got a nigga insane with a fucking empty gun |
|
So imma continue to strike and stay alone and maintain my self-pride |
|
Cuz' when I ride it's always locc to da brain |
|
Chorus: repeat 2X |
|
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K |
|
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way |
|
[Verse 5: Brotha Lynch Hung] |
|
You can't see me for the fact that the inside of my strap's in your sight |
|
Bout' to put some slugs in your throat and put your guts in my coat and hit |
|
the night Drop a sack of indo in my pipe and it's |
|
EBK everyday all day til the day I hit my grave-sight |
|
That locc to the brain cuz' it's all redrum |
|
A couple of hits from the purple spliff |
|
and I'm workin a fifth of the coke and rum |
|
I have my twelve gauge-pump decorating niggas brains |
|
Nigga nuts and guts is how we get sick them Northern Cal slayings |
|
That locc to the brain shit ain't no game it's a gang |
|
Them niggas that killed they mama for some fame it ain't no thang |
|
It ain't no way, I dump and let them niggas live |
|
Cuz' where I'm from we rockin up on em' |
|
bustin them reps up in them niggas ribs |
|
It's twelve-o-clock full of that spliff full of that ammo in my glock-nine |
|
Creepin through your set hit the stop |
|
Sign sideways bustin I see gat twenty-four C's |
|
Feel the breeze from the slugs in my nine now |
|
Rest in peace |
|
Chorus: repeat 4X |
|
Locc to da brain insane every day all day it's E-B-K |
|
Where niggaz load they straps cause the rival's on the way |
