Mind of a Sick Nigga

Lyrics

Artist: Spice 1 Album: 1990-Sick Song: Mind of a Sick Nigga (They're all gonna laugh at you) (They're all gonna laugh at you) (Hahahahahaha) (They're all gonna laugh at you) Enter the mind of a sick nigga With bloody uzi clips Decapitated heads in baskets Closed caskets. Murda on wax Nigga, thats what it's all about That's what you bought the muthafuckin tape for Murda on wax Redrum. On wax Nigga, I said, redrum, on wax Gotta get my prozac fore I go back And murda these muthafuckas Jumpin up out yo bushes in front a yo house with a tech nine Leavin in yo spine a flurry a bullets Its that killa S-P-I-C-E A lot a these jealous muthafuckas they wanna murda me But they can't fuck with that giggedy-giggedy-gangsta The nigga that's leavin they muthafuckin body parts in dumpstas Budda-bye-bye-bye feel them blood clot rastas The niggas who be out there slippin catch some buckshots to them head Pullin up four deep in an old school caddy Fully auto-maddy Empty the clip, niggas like paddy In the alley, niggas domes get cap Pistol whippin muthafuckas, got some blood on my strap (Chorus) What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? Them bloody bodies, face down in the dirty river What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? Redrum, professional gravedigga What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? Them bloody bodies, face down in them dirty river What goes on in the mind of a sick nigga? 187, professional gravedigga I'm bailin up out the cut and niggas they don't know what the fuck happened I'm laughin and blastin, rippin asses in half an Street sweepin these niggas up under the rug Plug they ass, makin they hooptie blow up when they crash Zonin out that hash Face down, back open, hopin they ain't no snitches scopin Witnesses witness they own smokin See it ain't no joke and nothing funny Bustin caps in yo ass like Yosemite Sam at Bugs Bunny They all see my comin and then they fled Im shootin these niggas off in the backa they head Blowin off they legs Talkin shit while they dyin Fuckin off they high and Hollow points keepin these niggas cold bodies fryin I ain't no stranger to this killin shit You shoulda thought before you fucked with this nigga you was dealin with You see I mobs through the ghetto smokin hash blunts Soaking game in the streets I grew up in And when the shit get funky I just get on up And blow your head off with a muthafuckin mac 10, bitch Chorus You'll be outta this muthafucka like Ron Goldman, chopped the fuck up Ain't no nigga livin alive that survived And had me caught up in some bullshit Now who you tryin to fuck up in the hustle This 20 gaugell ripple your ass up like a can a Ruffles I'm tryin to bubble like Johnson and Johnson With one in the chamber up an I load this strap with a 45 Thompson And we gon see if all that shit is true Comin up out the bay, guaranteed to be 187 proof You see me bustin with one hand up on my nutsac Departin domes yellin out 'whos the muthafuckin mac' Its that red infa, nigga with a hot temper I got your funeral date set up for next September You gon be deader than dead presidents Cuz in a couple a secs your soul gon be checkin up outta its residence Bodies stiff like Christmas ornaments Because the niggas that a fuck with me bein mo funk than Parliament Chorus You see I mobs through the ghetto smokin hash blunts Soaking game in the streets I grew up in And when the shit get funky I just get on up And blow your head off with a muthafuckin mac 10, bitch Chorus (Nigga, what you thinkin bout?)