On My Briefcase
Brotha Lynch Hung Lyrics


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(Lynch):
Now on my briefcase was some crumbled weed
A pack of Saravegas and a 24 ounce O.E.
Might as well skeez these couple of hoes
In my 69 Malibu sittin' on trues and vogues
For days you might have seen me in my cinnamon cut chrome shoes
With some you can't see me tint on the windows Indo syndrome
Smokin' it up, not givin' a muthafuckin' fizuck
Sold the cut, my ex-hoe said that nigga's sqautin' what?
Got at the homie Carl, and got some of that bomb
Had me so fuckin' high I got off like Vietnam
Dead bodies and bitches clits simmerin' in the crock pot
And the shit don't stop until my muthafuckin' chronic or high drop
It's just that insane type of thang, let the Mac rain guts in the drain
Siccmade niggas they make the world go round
And if you fuck with Siccmade Music you can get your ass gunned down

(Phonk Beta):
I had a homie who stayed up in Alaska, used to transfer flights over Nebraska
And flew me back about a ounce of that Alaska Indica weed
And out of the whole zip possessed one seed
Had it wrapped real tight all up in cellophane
Can't have the K-9 dogs smell it, man
If only you saw what I was seein', the buds was almost pure white, not green
Had to be one of those one hitter quitter dome splitters
That's the type a tweed that makes you wanna fuck your baby-sitter
I roll a fattie, when I roll this fattie
Niggas'll be all noid wonderin' why they lookin at me
Bitches have the nerve to say my shit ain't bomb
But it'll have your lungs burnin', like your puffin' on napalm

(Zagg):
I wipe that sweat up off my forehead, I'm off the cusche
Lay back and take a comfortable hit, with a Q-tip, it's splittin' my lips
And my dome stays split off toothpicks
I hit a lick with a quickness, dumpin' dead bodies in ditches
Appreciate the fact, come correct, cuz I could be vicious
Suspicion, comin' up on recognition I'm creepin' up from behind
With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for mine
So step in line, a couple of hits, dome split, I be lit on a for real base
With a machete I'll slice your neck just like them Jason cases
Murder traces, but I ain't pinned cuz there's no evidence
Slight scent of that purple cusche plant, and I can almost sense the essence
What's the lesson? Get tested, don't come if you can't come correct
It's that West Coast shit for life I don't know what you expected
I'm reckless, nevertheless I'm a pimp in a bulletproof vest
Puttin' it down, pound for pound, you need to take a step down




50 caliber rounds, I'm runnin' through your whole town
Buckin' em down like Doom set on deathmatch with the BFG-9000 cartoon

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of "On My Brief Case" by Brotha Lynch Hung depict vivid and provocative imagery about drug use, violence, and sexual themes. The first verse starts with Lynch describing his briefcase, which contains some weed, cigarettes, and a 24-ounce can of malt liquor. He then proceeds to talk about picking up a couple of prostitutes in his fancy Malibu car and cruising around while smoking weed. The lines "Dead bodies and bitches clits simmerin' in the crock pot" allude to illegal activities and the weed-induced paranoia that might be consuming him.


In the second verse, Phonk Beta talks about his experience with "Alaska Indica weed" and how intense it is. He describes how he had to wrap it in cellophane to avoid the keen sense of K-9 dogs from detecting it. The weed is potent and has a white appearance, and Phonk Beta suggests that it can make a person attracted to their babysitter.


The last verse is a contribution from Zagg, who talks about his experience with the potent purple cusche plant, which is a type of weed. He describes the effects of smoking it and warns people to come correct or face the consequences of crossing him. Zagg ends the verse with explicit reference to violence, saying that he is running through the whole town with his gun.


Overall, the song's lyrics depict an unfiltered and unapologetic version of the rap genre that touches on controversial subjects. It's not for everyone, but lovers of the rap genre can appreciate the honesty in the lyrics.


Line by Line Meaning

Now on my briefcase was some crumbled weed
I had some broken weed on my briefcase


A pack of Saravegas and a 24 ounce O.E.
I also had some cigars and a big bottle of Olde English beer


Might as well skeez these couple of hoes
Might as well have sex with these two women


In my 69 Malibu sittin' on trues and vogues
I'm sitting in my classic Chevrolet car with fancy wheels


For days you might have seen me in my cinnamon cut chrome shoes
I've been wearing my fancy new shoes for days, they're shiny and have a reddish hue


With some you can't see me tint on the windows Indo syndrome
The car windows are so darkly tinted that you can't see inside due to my reckless use of marijuana


Smokin' it up, not givin' a muthafuckin' fizuck
I'm smoking marijuana and not caring about anything else


Sold the cut, my ex-hoe said that nigga's sqautin' what?
I sold some drugs and my ex-girlfriend is jealous of my success


Got at the homie Carl, and got some of that bomb
I got in touch with my friend Carl and bought some really good drugs


Had me so fuckin' high I got off like Vietnam
The drugs were so strong that I got very high, like soldiers fighting in Vietnam


Dead bodies and bitches clits simmerin' in the crock pot
I'm cooking human body parts and female genitalia in a crockpot


And the shit don't stop until my muthafuckin' chronic or high drop
I won't stop smoking weed until I run out or get too high to continue


It's just that insane type of thang, let the Mac rain guts in the drain
It's just a crazy situation, let bullets from my gun spill out someone's intestines in the streets


Siccmade niggas they make the world go round
People like me who commit crimes and do drugs are an important part of society, unfortunately


And if you fuck with Siccmade Music you can get your ass gunned down
If you get in the way of my music career or drug operation I might kill you


I had a homie who stayed up in Alaska, used to transfer flights over Nebraska
I had a friend who lived in Alaska who would frequently travel through Nebraska


And flew me back about a ounce of that Alaska Indica weed
He brought me back about an ounce of high-quality marijuana from Alaska


And out of the whole zip possessed one seed
Out of the entire bag of marijuana, there was only one seed remaining


Had it wrapped real tight all up in cellophane
I made sure to wrap the seed tightly in cellophane to avoid any smells or detection from drug-sniffing dogs


Can't have the K-9 dogs smell it, man
I'm worried that drug-sniffing dogs might smell the marijuana and get me in trouble


If only you saw what I was seein', the buds was almost pure white, not green
If only you saw the marijuana I had, it was so high quality that the buds were almost white instead of green


Had to be one of those one hitter quitter dome splitters
The marijuana was so strong that one hit would be enough to get you very high


That's the type a tweed that makes you wanna fuck your baby-sitter
The marijuana was so strong that it would make some people want to have sex with their babysitter


I roll a fattie, when I roll this fattie
I'm rolling a large marijuana cigarette


Niggas'll be all noid wonderin' why they lookin at me
Other people will be suspicious and paranoid, wondering why they're looking at me


Bitches have the nerve to say my shit ain't bomb
Some women have criticized the quality of my drugs


But it'll have your lungs burnin', like your puffin' on napalm
Despite their criticism, my drugs are so strong that they will make your lungs feel like they're burning


I wipe that sweat up off my forehead, I'm off the cusche
I'm wiping sweat off my forehead, having just smoked marijuana


Lay back and take a comfortable hit, with a Q-tip, it's splittin' my lips
I'm relaxing and taking a big hit of marijuana, using a Q-tip to make sure the drug burns evenly in the joint


And my dome stays split off toothpicks
My head is in a foggy, high state due to the marijuana


I hit a lick with a quickness, dumpin' dead bodies in ditches
I quickly committed a crime, dumping dead bodies in a ditch


Appreciate the fact, come correct, cuz I could be vicious
Be careful around me and show respect, because I can be violent and dangerous


Suspicion, comin' up on recognition I'm creepin' up from behind
People are growing suspicious of me as I sneak up behind them


With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for mine
I'm carrying a 12-gauge shotgun and I'm ready to use it for my own benefit, without regard for others


So step in line, a couple of hits, dome split, I be lit on a for real base
Fall in line and take some hits of marijuana with me, and you'll be in a hazy, intoxicated state


With a machete I'll slice your neck just like them Jason cases
I'm threatening to kill someone with a machete, like the fictional character Jason from horror movies


Murder traces, but I ain't pinned cuz there's no evidence
I've potentially committed a murder, but I haven't been caught because there isn't enough evidence to convict me


Slight scent of that purple cusche plant, and I can almost sense the essence
I can smell the distinct aroma of marijuana, and it reminds me of the drug's overall essence and effect


What's the lesson? Get tested, don't come if you can't come correct
The lesson is to be careful and only associate with people who can handle the dangerous lifestyle associated with drug use


It's that West Coast shit for life I don't know what you expected
This is just the typical drug-filled, violent lifestyle that exists on the West Coast- what did you expect?


I'm reckless, nevertheless I'm a pimp in a bulletproof vest
I act recklessly, but I'm also a pimp who takes steps to protect myself by wearing a bulletproof vest


Puttin' it down, pound for pound, you need to take a step down
I'm doing better than you and you need to accept that you're beneath me in status


50 caliber rounds, I'm runnin' through your whole town
I have powerful weapons and I'm prepared to fight my way through an entire town to get what I want


Buckin' em down like Doom set on deathmatch with the BFG-9000 cartoon
I'm shooting and killing people with the same level of intensity as in a violent video game




Contributed by Amelia A. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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Jessinell Livingston


on Dead Man

Thank you out for your music it hleps me thowe my life.