[Lyric] Good Night (Brotha Lynch Hung)

[Verse 1]
I mix it with a bit of baking soda
In this cracc sacc in the back pack before I make em older
I put em in the game, nigga I'mma franchise player
Put it in his brain, nigga, then his aunt died later
Rolled in there quiet, I hold heavy metal where you can fry quick
Like Sizzlean, all I wanna know is, Is he clean?
If its not, it's right off the levee, smash off in a Chevy
If it's hot, smoke up the whole area like Richard Petty
In his brains and his guts in his baccseat, lookin like spaghetti in the pot
Ready or not, I stay steady with the shot
From long distance for instance break out like Eddie Brock
Before I'm leavin, I'm leavin you bleedin on yo blocc

[Hook]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go
Ain't too many live when they get hit with the technical
I don't sweat it though, I just roll
I ain't gotta prove it, I just know
It's all ready, better get used to it
[Verse 2]
I do hose, so if you see me on the streets and you got beef
Believe me nigga I do blow hella niggas brains out
Fuckin wit mine, cuz what I do got
I got it while I was stuck on the grind carryin' two Gloccs
Gettin off these roccs, gettin my roccs off
Fuckin slut bitches with nines until it pops off
Fuckin stuff dicks in ya mind, fuckin ya blocc off, nigga
Fuck you faggots, you niggas talk soft

[Hook]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go
Ain't too many live when they get hit with the technical
I don't sweat it though, I just roll
I ain't gotta prove it I just know
It's all ready betta get used to it

[Verse 3]
I'll put ya brains in a trash compactor, I'm smashin backwards
And blastin at ya spot with the Mac and
I gets to craccin like a bad head gasket
I'll take ya nuts to ya momma in a basket
I don't give a fucc, touch em up quiccer than Earl Scheib
Dip on that ass in the pearl white and then good night
Don't even fight, just let it go
Ain't too many live when they get hit with the technical
But I don't sweat it though
I'm a blocc nigga like C-Bo, make ya bleed slow
Jumpin over you niggas like I was Evel Knievel
When I hit that right strapped up, you G niggas better bacc up, pacc up
Cuz bodies bout to stacc up, when the Maserati wearin blacc stuff
And I'm back in the cut, fuckin it up, you young niggas betta wait yours
I'mma sicko psycho run in the house get so psycho blood type-O
Dancin with the devil with my hands on heavy metal, oh
On every level go, when I put the pedal to the flo'
It's good night
[Verse 4]
Some say I'm sicca than syphilis nigga get the picture?
I'll rip ya spleen out and cook it and go have dinner wit ya
I'm sicc in the head like Charles Michael, it'll take snick to get ya
To paint different pictures if it's in the way hit ya with the siccness
Get this nigga, I'mma keep it gangsta
See you in the club and run up on ya ass then bank ya
Ain't the, nigga to be fuckin with when I got revenue
If anybody got niggas that'll roll by and pop you, nigga, Kevin do
I gots ta keep it that way, carry the outlaw like, 'Who is you?'
I'm in grey and blue like I'm a Dallas Cowboy
24 on my jersey, hit em up by the 0-30
In the morning catch em stretchin and yawnin and stretch em out out on the lawn, it was so dirty, I put em in trash bags
And put em in the backyard like I was livin in Baghdad
I be givin niggas they hat back, and they heart in my baccpacc
And they guts and they nuts and they intestines up in the Cadillac
Good night, don't even fight, I spit that black flag
Niggas got it mixed up like baking soda in a cracc sacc
Gotta get ya back cracced open, I'm a Southside strangler
Creepin up in all blacc like Oakland, I'mma be there bangin' ya

[Hook 4X]
Good night, don't even fight, just let it go
Ain't too many live when they get hit with the technical
I don't sweat it though, I just roll
I ain't gotta prove it I just know
It's all ready, better get used to it
Westside in tha house nigga