Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 3 Minute Murder, artist - Chris Brown.
Date of issue: 08.11.2010
Song language: English
3 Minute Murder |
Twis' got skill, yes I kill |
I get wild on they ass like Buffalo Bill |
I be winnin' in the game like them niggas in the south |
If a nigga talkin' shit I’m quick to hit em in the mouth |
Them lyrics that’s the shit I be equipped to spit 'em out |
And I’mma make a nigga sick cause I got venom in the mouth |
Antonyms and synonyms are spinnin' him out of his route |
And I got bricks of money, bitch and I can’t fit em in the couch |
Kill 'em with the ride paints hard with the deep dish |
Kill 'em with syllables quick wit 8 bars in a sequence |
I am the bid’ness I gotta charge you to peep this |
Niggas can’t see me I’m Ray Charles or a eclipse |
Stevie in the blackout see me with the Mack out |
Twista gon' get money like a GD in a crack house |
When it come to flows I’mma spit 'em like they cold |
When it come to niggas heads I’mma split it like a pole |
Take away they swag and shit on they cocky style |
Cuz my lyrics be too quick they call me Twista Pacquiao |
come solo wit my k-olo |
When you see my logo come take my photo when I’m on promo |
Niggas wanna get me they better pick a new regimen |
Shit too sick B somebody better go get you medicine |
Not bringin' up Twista I’m makin' the issue relevant |
Balls bigger than mine better go get two elephants |
I be getting grimy but you and yo click too elegant |
Beat yo face up till yo jaw tissue look like a pelican |
I be steady whoopin' yo ass just fo' the hell of it |
Can’t nobody fuck wit me the planet is celibate |
I kick a hot flow, get it like Harpo |
Brief when I rhyme teeth shine like a car show |
Wit a thick bitch, go 'head check out my cargo |
You know one gon' be wit me wherever my car go |
Where yo baby at, where yo white Mercedes at? |
I’ll let u borrow the Bentley as long as you bring it back |
Here, a couple stacks, you ain’t gotta pay me back |
Me and yo boss kick it and he know where the ladies at |
Whether we comin' and killin' and murderin' cause I beat down the block |
Or because I’m like «throw ya hands up» cause it’s hip hop |
I’d rather be rappin' about the streets and makin' a quick pot |
But it’s time to do something so the shorties don’t get popped |
Meanwhile back to the lab I got the desert eagle |
Come on yo muthafuckin tip and kill eleven people |
Throw up on a priest let him know I ain’t no reverend |
Either dat I go where the fuck I want I’m up in heaven evil |
You ain’t gotta tell me I know I spit bars sick |
E-mail, anthrax, flows kick arsenic |
G-up genie and throw it up I’m car sick |
Cut raw dope deez nigga cut garbage |
Lethargic give a bitch hard dick |
See my niggas and I say «salute» like a sergeant |
Can’t lie I’m one of the coldest artists |
So I wouldn’t have yo bitch up in my apartment |
So I be passin' out «fuck you» flyers |
To fakers and heaters and then fuck liars |
If yo' shit ain’t one been one minded |
The swine flu H1N1 virus |
Am I like Jason? |
No I’m more like Michael Myers |
I am the shit I need to wear diapers |
When I spit it sometimes I’m all too philosophical |
Blame it on the Don Julio and killer tropical |
Twista got more swag than a rich sissy |
But don’t get prissy muthafuckas can get grilly |
I’mma balla and a boss and yes I’m finna get paid |
Takin' flames to the head like I’m Nicolas Cage |
I ghost ride the whip I’m finna get laid |
Any niggas dat try to get me is finna get sprayed |
One day it’s possible dat I’m finna get saved |
But for now I be getting money I’m finna get made, muthafucka |
Fucka. |
.fucka.. fucka. |
.fucka |