| Word to God
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| Ya know who the fuck this is?
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| Ya know we would kidnap yo kids?
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| Ya know what the fuck we do?
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| Murda bitch niggaz like you
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| For real all the time
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| Any place any where
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| Ya’ll niggaz can get it Act like ya’ll don’t know
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| In the world thats ice cold
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| Blacks die slowly
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| Cats snag groupies
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| Gats and leave you lonely
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| My mama always told me The streets will slow you down
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| Daddy neva showed me How heat will hold me down
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| So now, I rob and steal
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| The shit you fill
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| With a clique that kills
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| Yeah, my shit that real
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| I hustled hard all my life
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| Ran the streets all night
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| My wife always said everything
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| Was gonna be aiight
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| She was right
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| And thats the one reason
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| Why I love her
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| But everything she said
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| Went in one ear and out the other
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| Word to Mother
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| Look at it from a thug point of view
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| When the kids need clothes
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| What a thug gonna do?
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| Hit the streets and hustle
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| Or pick up the heat and bust you
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| I’m tryin to eat like Russell
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| Murda is my hustle
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| you keep chasin yesterday
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| You gonna miss tomorrow
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| Its murda motherfucka
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| We don’t bang or rob
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| We take shit
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| Fuck you and yo fake bitch
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| When the eight spit
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| You can feel the hatred
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| Taste it You high right now
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| You aint ready to die right now
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| Before five we’ll calm you down
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| You in the charmer now
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| It’s drama how
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| A child will shut shit down
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| Killin niggaz for the fuck of it
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| I’ll get you touched for chips
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| Fuck that shit and fuck yo wips
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| Fuck you bitch you can just suck my dick
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| If you keep chasin yesterday
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| You gonna miss tomorrow
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| Its murda motherfucka
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| We don’t bang or rob
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| We take shit
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| Fuck you and yo fake bitch
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| When the eight spit
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| You can feel the hatred
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| Taste it Its your blood
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| When we show love
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| We murderers (murderers)
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| We throw slugs
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| We hustlers (hustlers)
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| We sell drugs
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| And tell thugs livin it up That there times up Tah Murdah:
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| Yo, Yo I dont give a fuck if you niggaz hate me I drop bodies off where the lakes be But lately, I’ve been hittin cribs be safe where the cake be I take three to the feds for the love of the dollars
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| And put that hot shit through you and watch you Holla, Holla
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| The same niggaz I roll wit I’ma brawl wit
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| Hold my tanks
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| Run in the bank, and take it all with
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| Playa we flawless
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| Wit nothin to loose
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| Gun buttin and bruisin
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| Niggaz ya’ll cant live
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| Funny shit about it Niggaz wanna hit me Forget about it Thug-shit I’m livin
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| Ya’ll niggaz spit about it I rob and extort niggaz
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| Two-thirds of my life
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| The other third has been
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| Swingin on cars
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| Chasin the birds
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| If you ever get the urge to come
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| Try for test
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| All in one day you’ll get none
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| And lied to rest
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| It’s Murda
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| The only code of the ghetto
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| It’s Murda
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| Nigga hand me the bezzle
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| And dance with the devil
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| Guns gradually spit
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| Gangsta shit
|
| Attractin your bitch
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| Gettin head leaned back in the six
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| I master the chips
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| Nigga I’m tryin to tell you
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| You holdin hammers and nail you
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| Have you were the dogs couldn’t smell you
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| If you keep chasin yesterday
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| You gonna miss tommorrow
|
| Its murda motherfucka
|
| We don’t bang or rob
|
| We take shit
|
| Fuck you and yo fake bitch
|
| When the eight spit
|
| You can feel the hatred
|
| Taste it Its your blood
|
| When we show love
|
| We murderers (murderers)
|
| We throw slugs
|
| We hustlers (hustlers)
|
| We sell drugs
|
| And tell thugs livin it up That there times up Ja Rule:
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| Ja’s the motherfuckin problem
|
| Any nigga think not
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| I’ma pop 'em
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| Put the lid on niggaz
|
| Demand that I spot 'em
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| Who gettin it? |
| I got 'em nigga
|
| And go got 'em to the cross in the roads
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| Show them how the guns blow
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| I’m a degenerate nigga
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| Addicted to hydro
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| Pushin four lanes
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| Top down with my eyes closed
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| Got a death wish
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| Money, drugs, and murderin shit
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| What you want with this?
|
| We’ll kidnap yo kids
|
| Clap up yo cribs
|
| It’s the Murderers
|
| What you know that does
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| That kill shit, just because?
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| We them hot niggas
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| Sell more records then roc niggas
|
| I’ma lock it down for six months
|
| And shock niggas
|
| Whats my name?
|
| J to A, the R-U-L-E
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| With them hoes
|
| That get through more sheets then
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| I’s lay, you can’t deny me
|
| I’m the motherfuckin one
|
| Drugs and bitches, like Heron
|
| The don be the rule
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| If you hot get priced on your jewels
|
| Cop a benz, and 20 inch chrome yo shoes
|
| I got nothin to loose
|
| But everything to live for
|
| Thoroughbred’s the man
|
| That supply the raw
|
| I put my smack down
|
| >From N-Y to Chi-town
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| Incorporated
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| Murder spittin them rounds
|
| You don’t wanna hear how we sound
|
| We cop the flame
|
| It’s Murda
|
| And shit gonna change
|
| Niggaz…
|
| Uh, uh Motherfuckas, understand that
|
| Uh, uh We live or die for this here
|
| Nigga it’s MURDA!
|
| Motha fucka
|
| Give it to 'em
|
| We’ll like that
|
| All my murderers!
|
| My dog
|
| Fuck the world
|
| Ya heard
|
| Murder Inc. niggaz |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Murderers, artist - Ja Rule. Album song Venni Vetti Vecci, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп