24 Deep - Brotha Lynch Hung: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

Brotha Lynch Hung

24 Deep

27,940

Hip-Hop/Rap

24 Deep was released on January 1, 1993 by RBC Records as a part of the album 24 Deep

Song Details

Release DateJanuary 1, 1993

LabelRBC Records

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM89

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Brotha Lynch Hung

Brotha Lynch Hung

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Kevin Mann

Composer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Strikin' through the deuce with a 40 in my mouth

The **** with the rep of atheismistic doubt

Rippin' the label off the 4-0, based on the fact

I got respect for my dead folks, props for my **** locs

187's in the hood, I can't say shit

One-time thinkin' it was premeditated

I could eat a view from the deuce-fo' block

40 in my mind, makin' me think I'm gon' get shot

In deuce-fo' deep, the **** with the sickness

A **** with hella enemies, always cool and 86'd

**** from the hood ended up provin' they was a snitch

Fuck it, created the X-Raided, now I'm tryin' to get rich

Ain't that a bitch? That snitch, nothing, nothing

Motherfuckers mad 'cause they can't make tapes

And I gotta get paid, so I can buy my 4-0

To live the atheist life that I was brainwashed to know

**** run up every day, wantin' to get some

I told them who runs the motherfucker flow and then some

Win some, lose some, like a nightmare

I got enough shit on my mind, I just can't care

I'm on the run, runnin' from who's-ever gun is aimin'

I'm all up in the middle of shit and ain't even claimin'

Tryin' to survive in the hood is hard enough

'Cause them **** already thinkin' I'm claimin' Creek Mobb

Trippin' on gettin' snuffed by the view, smoke in the Gardens

Stayin' out the creek, 'cause it's hot and hella hard to get

A dub up without gettin' caught, and them **** know it

Drinkin' that 4-0 ounce, in case I'm shot, I wanna be drunk

And don't feel it, that ****, that **** that raised the shit

Raised a Crip, but really can't fade the shit no more

But out of respect, I just can't gangbang

I'm in it 24 deep, you got funk? Then ****, slang

[Verse 2]

Drinkin' while I'm sittin' in my room with the lights off

Voices in my head, tellin' me, "****, that's fucked up"

X is doin' time, so he can't get got, but now I'm

Livin' up in the deuce and I can still get shot

So I'mma slang 'em, slang 'em like a motherfuckin' half-ounce

Trippin' off the four ounce, the four to the fuckin' ounce

To the bounce, every gat, but I'ma still put some work in

Wearin' black in the deuce, a **** lurkin', full of juice

Bought from the wretched, the X-Raided, settin' 'em flex

Waited, that **** had to murder before he made it

Now he's doin' thirty to death row

He said he always wanted the devil to have his soul

Young ****, I wish I coulda told him what was up

Fuckin' with the so-called devil will get you fucked

I woulda told him, that ****, he killin' the bitches all the time

But never knew that **** would murder and try to ditch a crime

I never knew, I heard of a **** that snitched, but now the sign

Is every fool that deals with the devil is through

Me, I'm a psycho, me Mama might go ill when she find out

Her baby's makin' criminals, that ****, that nightmare critical

That **** that lynched, that critical criminal hinges on the loose

So whether or not you think I'm down, I got the juice

Now all I need is a motherfuckin' Glock, D

Up in the block and in the Creek, livin' 24 deep

[Verse 3]

Droppin' it like this, sittin' in the crib, 12 o'clock

Half-lit, lookin' for a Glock, so I stop

By the phone, it's ringin' and I wanted a gat

It's X-Raided, he made it to the hood, ****, where you at?

That **** said, "Round the corner at the pay phone

I got the dank, I got the crew and the nine, loc, you know it's on"

Let it be known, I'm a motherfuckin' psycho from the deuce

And all my other **** got the same juice

But when it comes to trustin' ****, I can't fade it

Frontin' **** like a game, so I played it

Half-dead fools got me gang-related

A new **** wanna kill me every day, shit

For every **** that pull a Glock on me

I'm not dyin', ****, that's not gon' be

I keep tryin' to get myself up out this shit

But all the **** I know still gon' be claimin' me Crip

I'm not trippin', whenever they want the flow, they go

My **** all know the antidote'll be smokin' a ****'s dome

So until I die, that's how it's gon' be, in the blocc

24th Street, ****, livin' 24 deep

Written by: Kevin Mann

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