or
Murdah, Tah

Word to god
Y'all know who the fuck this is
You know we would kidnap yo kids
You know what the fuck we do
Murder bitch niggas like you
For real, all the time, any place, anywhere
Y'all niggas could get it
Act like y'all don't know

In a world that's ice cold, blacks die slowly
Cats snatch rollies, gats'll leave you holy
My momma always told me the streets will slow me down
Daddy never showed me how the heat will hold me down
So now I rob and steal, spit shit you feel, wit a clique that kills
Yea my shit's that real, I hustle hard all my life
Ran the streets all night
My wife always said everything was gonna be aight
And she was right and that's one reason why I love her
But everything she said went in one ear and out the other
Word to mother, look at it from a thug point of view
When the kids need clothes, what a thug gon do?
Hit the streets and hustle, pick up the heat and bust you
I'm tryin' to eat like Russel
Murda is my hustle But you keep chasin' yesterday, you goin' miss tomorrow
It's murda motherfucker we don't beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and yo fake bitch, when the eight (.8mm) spit
You could feel the hatred, taste it
You high right now, you ain't ready to die right now
The .45 will calm you down, you under trauma now
It's drama how a child will shut shit down
Kill a nigger for the fuck of it I get you touched for chips
Fuck that shit, fuck the whip, and fuck you bitch
You can just suck my dick

If you chasin' yesterday, you goin' miss tomorrow
It's murda motherfucker, we don't beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and yo fake bitch
When the .8 spit you could feel the hatred, taste it
It's your blood, when we show blood, we murderers (murderers)
We throw slugs, we hustlers (hustlers) we sell drugs
And tell thugs live it up till yo time stops

Yo I give a fuck if y'all niggas hate me
I drop bodies off where the lakes be
But lately, I've been hittin' cribs
And safes where the cake be
I take three to the vest for the love of the dolla
I put that hot shit through you and watch you Holla Holla
The same niggas that I ball wit I'ma brawl wit
I'm a tank running in banks and takin' all of it
Player we're flawless, wit nothin' to lose guns bustin'
And brossen niggers y'all can't live
Funny shit about it, niggers wanna hit me, forget about it
Thug shit I'm still livin' y'all niggas just spit about it
I rob and stomp niggas 2/3rd of my life
The other 1/3 spent sittin' on curbs chasin' those birds
If you ever get the urge to come by and try to test
There's only one and then you get numb and lied to rest
It's murder the only code to the ghetto
It's murder, nigga hand me the Bessel
And dance with the devil, guns rapidly spit
Gangsta shit, attractin yo bitch, gettin head and lean back in the whip
I mastered the chips, Nigga I'm tryin to tell you
You're holdin hammers and nails and
We have you where the dogs couldn't smell you

If you chasin' yesterday, you goin' miss tomorrow
It's murda motherfucker, we don't beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and yo fake bitch
When the .8 spit you could feel the hatred, taste it
It's your blood, when we show blood, we murderers (murderers)
We throw slugs, we hustlers (hustlers) we sell drugs
And tell thugs live it up till yo time stops

Ja's a motherfuckin' problem
Any nigga think not, I'ma pop him
Put the lean on niggas the minute I spot em
Who's gettin' it, I got him nigga dead and gone
Gonna guide em to the cross roads show em how those guns blow
I'ma degenerate nigga addicted to hydro, switchin' four lanes
Top down wit my eyes closed, got a death wish
Money, drugs, and murderer shit
What you want with this? We'll kidnap yo kids
And clap up yo crib, It's the murderers
Who you know wit guns that kill shit
Just because we're them hot niggers
Sell mo records than Roc niggas
I'ma lock it down for six months and shock niggas
What's my name?
J the A R.U.L.E. with them hoes get between more sheets than Isley
You can't deny me, I'm the motherfuckin' one
Druggin' bitches like Heron(heroin)
The god be the Rule, if you're hot get bice and bice
On your jewel to cop a Bens
20 inch chrome, the shoes, I got nothin' to lose but everything to live for
Thoroughbred demand and supply the raw
I put my smash down from N.Y. to Chi-Town
INC Murder spittin in rounds
You don't wanna her how it sounds, When we cock them flames
It's murder And ain't shit goin' change
Niggas!

Written by MYRIE, MARK ANTHONY / DODD, CLEMENT / ATKINS, JEFFREY B. / LORENZO, IRVING DOMINGO / FYFFE, TYRONE / GILL, RAMEL / CROCKER, TIHEEM
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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