West coast parley chords by Brotha Lynch Hung
Verse 1
Am
See the thing is,
is I'm off this black and mild shit.
Off this black.
Trying to put it down.
Sick made music.
We're gonna put it down.
West coast.
C
You know it bad boy.
You what saying?
Nigga ain't trippin'
Am
dog. Ain't trippin'.
C
Sick made for East coast got love.
Those that got love.
Am
Serve motherfuckers.
Give love. Got love.
So I'ma spit this shit.
Creepin' up from the back,
it's the neck slasher.
C
Throat snatcher. Had to gotcha.
Am
Match me on a saturated sack
and meet me in the back with
the Mack. The Mack.
Cause tonight's the night,
C
and you're about to get
Am
stung like a 50 pack
Em
I see you on the map,
Am
so I'm tippy -toeing up in
G
your room like Doom
Am
Creep around the corner,
before you know it,
nigga, you a goner
Quick like Daytona,
G
Am
got that murder mode pneumonia
Sack of endokilophonia,
creeping around the corner in a
C
Drop six spoke, cone of gold,
hundred spokes
Am
Chronic smoke off that Yak
mini back in the sack
Guess who's back, it's that sick individual mixed up,
G
Am
gone off, gone to leaves
Raising up to your outer cuts
Em
Am
with a trunk full of green leaves
Them thieves, enemies,
C
take some of these
Am
Bodies hangin' off trees,
ain't nothin' up my sleeve
But these, Teflon tips and talons,
rip your chestplate cavities
F
Em
As I smash you off,
Am
take the mask off, it's a high speed
Chase down I -5,
fifteen minutes until the sundown
G
Am
I got an AP -10, throw away, take nine
F
Am
So you know you can't fuck with mine
C
You spline, you can't have my time
Am
Bitch don't let me get up
off the mobile phone
Hit the weed and hit the O -A -Gogue
Gm
Hittin' 90 down the highway
Am
Em
Am
Smokin' more weed than Chris Tucker on a Friday Night,
hit the right,
got off the freeway, hit the light
Got my Teflon for the night
G
Oh no, it's tight
Am
Minimax and Cadillacs
Gm
Trues and Vos, hella hoes
Am
And Bo, Bo
Gm
Am
That's how we doin' it
Em
That's how we doin' it
You know
Am
So when you come to the West Coast
You better bring your plexiglass windows
and your Teflons
Cause it's on, it's on
Em
Am
Send you and the body back home
So when you come to the west coast,
C
Am
you better bring your plexiglass windows
G
and your teflons
Am
Cause it's on, it's on,
Em
Am
Em
singing when I body bag home
Am
I take two MC's
and put them in a line,
take a half ounce of chronic and jet
G
Cause my mind's about
Am
to connect your swine,
Gm
protect your rib area
Am
F
I'm like a bull terrier
Em
coming out your stereo,
Am
smooth and clean
I mean I'm like an ointment,
bitches they fiend,
G
I'm sort of like a joint lit
Am
and I'm getting them addicted
Gm
The rhymes gettin' them high,
F
Em
strung off the Brother Lynch hum
Am
That's the reason why the loop label
my poetry legally dope
So gather at the front of the stage
for a smoke and take a rough puff
I write enough stuff,
C
Am
I make them strong and long and buff
Em
Take a puff, I got enough
Am
to get you high
while you're sippin' on cognac
Trippin' off the rap that's
G
comin' in a 20 sec
Am
That means I'm comin' with
immense posterior infinism
F
Am
Rhymes as smooth as silk material,
Dm
you know I got your own file
Am
I heard you like my style,
G
Am
so let me enchant you for
a little while
Two doors to a boat,
Em
I got you takin' off your clothes
Am
This fool done crossed D for the last time,
G
so I'm bout to let him have it, fool
Am
Comin' through like a fool
Em
G
with a loaded .38 up in my boot
Am
Gm
And Dove got real bad vibes
Am
about what that bitch done did
Tryin' to act hard and disrespect
Em
my own West Coast clique
Am
Now bitch, West Coast bad boy
C
with the Teflon tag and it's on
Am
So if you tweakin',
I suggest you leave that crack alone
Well, aw, shit,
then that bitch done got to nuttin' up
So I reached in my book for the 30th
Em
and got ready to bud
Am
Already perv,
C
I ain't trippin' off no tragedies
Am
So I buck the fool down,
send him home dead
G
if he even disrespectin' me
Am
Bitches like that always get they cap peeled
It wouldn't have been like that
Em
if you just kept your ass real
Am
So what you wanna?
You silly hoes wanna go to war?
Well just keep that beat flowin',
turn the microphone on
G
Am
and leave me alone
Gm
Am
Westside, till the day that I die, yeah
So when you come to the West Coast
C
Am
You bet ter bring your plexiglass
windows
G
and your teflons
Am
Cause it's on, it's on
Em
Am
Send you and our body back home
C
So when you come to the west coast
Am
You bet ter bring
your plexiglass windows
G
and your teflons
Am
Cause it's on, it's on
E
Am
Em
Am
C
Send you and our body back home
Am
Gm
Am
C
Am
Gm
Am
This was PRPLPRNCH, I'm out!
West coast parley
Brotha lynch hung
Speed: 1.0x
RestartPlay SpaceEnable loopDisable audioMore songs by Brotha Lynch Hung
Discover chords for more songs to play
Related songs
Discover chords for more songs to play
4.9Popular chords globally
Most played chords & tabs across all users