Yeah, the Baby Killa's back up in this mother***ka
Straight from tha grave
It gets so deep right under the Garden Blocc
Oh, me? Ya can just call me Manson, yeah, we met before
But ya forget that I ain't gonna die so I'm back up this mother***ka
So peep the motha***kin' words from the dead man, yeah

And when I pack me a gun and oh, when I was young
I dreamt of feedin' them *****s up of *****s nuts and soufley a' la dun
Mother***kas get hung, my bullet weights a ton
The Garden Blocc Don, the valley of the slum

Tha cannibalistic ***** that got that 9 millimeter gun
That ***** that ***** that got them motha***kas on the run
They thought that I was done but Lynch is not the one
To go out from a gunshot wound, *****, I'm not done that soon

*****es, they come but nut just like the rest, caught one in the chest
Shoulda wore a vest and, oh, what a bloody mess
Puffin' off the cess, dealin' with the stress, killin' off the less
Fortunate but they trip when my nine gets sick

Them *****s either die or stay stuck on my ****
'Cause I'm that ***** they call Lynch, I got 'em *****s fiendin' for my ****
I empty clips, drinkin', ***kin' with tha splift
And it's the ***** that kill for reason, it's the Season Of The Sicc

That's why I got the urge to shoot that ***** ****
And kill off that infant, so what is my intent?
To show them motha***kas livin' life ain't ****
I gets to gettin' real sick and eatin' bloody ****, the baby killa ****

Put 'em in a grave with an empty 40 ounce bottle and don't leave a drip
'Cause livin' with tha Tripple-Six
Ya learn to ***k devil in his mouth and eat the **** out of his *****
And I admit, my brain is kinda sick

But now I'm like J. Dahmer, I'm chewin' up all the evidence
I killed to cure my fit, the human meat fix
Bitin' to the skin rips, that sick *****, so sick
Livin' dead ever since

Yeah, do ya wanna know what that Siccness is?
The Siccness is when you hug your mama and ya **** get hard
Or you walk in on your baby's mama and she's suckin' your son's ****
That's the motha***kin' Siccness.

So, ya motha***kas don't ya forget that ****
And don't forget where the Sicc came from
That ***** Lynch

I take my mouth off up that cog and trip
'Cause eatin' dead ***** **** I make ya sick
But it's the Season so my reason is legit
I'm havin' fits, I dreamed of eatin' bloody ***** ****'s since I was six

I fiend for a dead ***** on ****, I gotta skits
Meanin' I don't give a **** about ya biyatch
That ***** that's from tha Blocc, killin' up tha cog, so, *****, ****
Baby barbeque ribs and guts and ah, don't let me get too deep

Fryin' baby nuts, ****s get ate out alike
Dank is what crooked teeth heard
I pull the Tampax-string out and straight put in work
It wouldn't work without that sick, so page a ***** quick
So I can serve ya some of this **** and have ya murderin' ya biyatch

'Cause me and Triple-Six grew up ***kin' *****es up the gut
With tha 9-millimeter clip, Season of the Sicc, picture this:
***** meat ripped in a pan full of nuts and guts and intestines and ****
I gets ta chewin' on tha ****, the sick, they just don't understand it

It's so outlandish, chewin' ***** nuts to cure my fit
The human meat fix, bitin' 'til the skin rips
That sick *****, so sick
Livin' dead ever since