| .30, .30 in my hands |
| DEA and detective done got me cuffed on that ambulance |
| Nigga ain’t no solvin' no murders, welcome to Murderland |
| Send a hit and scratch off a hit, bitch, I’m the Murder Man |
| Pray the Lord puts his hands on me |
| And I know I took a risk with this shit when I put my hands on it |
| All my enemies watchin', they plottin' plan on me |
| They go end up one of them dead homies |
| 'Cause how can a nigga stand on it when it ain’t the truth |
| Pussy niggas ran on me when it’s time to shoot |
| Motherfuck a friend, get them bitches out my crew |
| I know you wouldn’t fuck with me if I didn’t have no loot |
| 'Cause I’m the one that push a hard line |
| Tell me what niggas know about hard times |
| Empty stomach get you the heart to go do a homicide |
| I know some bitch niggas that snitch, niggas on my side |
| Still a rich nigga with mob ties |
| Cause nigga, we was locked in |
| Million six and my niggas didn’t want apartment |
| We was pushin' that molly, powder and hard ten |
| Back when bitches, they used to play with my heart then |
| Police might shoot me and kill me over my dark skin |
| Man, this game got me dark hearted |
| Smoke a jam like a alcoholic, don’t get me started |
| I thought we was gon' thug it out to the end |
| But I guess that shit just wasn’t on the plans |
| I pray this choppa never jam |
| .30, .30 in my hands |
| Shoot him if he ain’t DOA, we shoot up the ambulance |
| Nigga ain’t no solvin' no murders, welcome to Murderland |
| Bulletproof my shit, they might hit it, bitch, I’m the Murder Man |
| Dead nigga put his hands on me |
| I might pop another bottle and pour one out for your dead homie |
| Swear my friends turnin' fed on me (Bitch) |
| Man, they pussy niggas might take a stand on me |
| But how can a nigga stand on it when it ain’t the truth |
| Pussy niggas ran on me when it’s time to shoot |
| She think I’m her man, baby, I’m just knockin' boots |
| I know you wouldn’t fuck with me if I didn’t have no loot |
| 'Cause I’m the one that push a hard line |
| Tell me what bitches know about hard times |
| Empty stomach get you the heart to go do a homicide |
| Know some bitch niggas that snitch, niggas on my sid |
| Still a rich nigga with mob ties |
| 'Cause nigga, we was locked in |
| Million six and my niggas didn’t want apartment |
| We was pushin' that molly, powder and hard ten |
| Back when bitches, they used to play with my heart then |
| Police might shoot me and kill me over my dark skin |
| Man, this game got me dark hearted |
| Smoke a jam like a alcoholic, don’t get me started |
| I thought we was gon' thug it out to the end |
| But I guess that shit just wasn’t on the plans |
| I pray this choppa never jam |
| (Uh, yeah-yeah) |
| I pray this choppa never jam (Yeah-yeah) |
| I pray this choppa never jam, homie (Yeah-yeah) |
| I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (Yeah-yeah) |
| I pray this choppa never jam |
| I pray this choppa never jam (Yeah-yeah) |
| I pray this choppa never jam, homie (Yeah) |
| I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (Yeah-yeah) |