Lyrics It's Murda (Freestyle) - Ja Rule, Hussein Fatal

It's Murda (Freestyle)

It’s Murda
We back up in this motherfucker!
It’s Murda
Y’all know who we be
(Yeah, ayo don’t let me catch you runnin' from the back of BET either, nigga)
My nigga Fatal on the mutherfuckin' ones and twos
Holla back, you bitch ass niggas
Yo, cock sucka', I get squat and post and cocked tha nina'
In tha five series beamer, dump and lean ya
I fell off on a misdemeanor, ride red over black madina’s
Take crazy for genius, hated like Jesus Christ
My weakness have always been bad bitches
And new bills with krisis', my thesis more than extraordinary
And that nigga that got shot nine times can tell ya that I don’t give a fuck
I don’t give a fuck, Nicolas Cage may I ask yo' permission to take his life
This is a man be «I» N-C to R-U-L-E extraordinary, one for the ages
When then sawed off with the front of them gauges
To engage in combat
To send you and 'fem' where yo moms at
Motherfucka you hear that
And I ain’t talkin about them heaven from skies
I’m talkin' about them fire from nines
Or maybe the fifty cal.
cause you like five-oh
Or maybe somewhere in Cal where you like to lay low
You bitch made, and I heard about that bitch
You be slayin layin up with, some where off of Sunset
Y’all haven’t heard yet that nigga change is loose
And I got proof, get it?
«I got Proof»
Yo vest is no use when we cock and flame
It’s Murda, (yeah) murda incorporated (ha ha)
It’s Murda (yeah)
Hussein Fatal nigga (It's Murda)
Muthafuckas…
Rule' these niggas crazy, reppin' him without me
«A.I» ain’t in tha click, believe they won’t win without me
Yo, I’m small lil' homies, frail but bold
Went from base to some bullshit like «Jalen Rose»
Got my blind D-O-G's readin' brail and coats
Keep tha heat in tha winter I can’t tell it’s cold
Clean my set, pieced out flame the TEC
Throw shots out niggas catch like «Wayne Cherbet»
Son of a gangsta, Talk dirty son I’m a bang ya
I’m tha truth with tha ox, keep gum on tha banger
Hussein, the only reason hoes chase tha thugs
Nigga blade part two I got tha taste for blood
Log on Fatal.com, see fatal drop bombs
More militant minded then y’all faded with 'Pac rhymes
Clucthing tha stick beam, suckin' tha stick green
Out tha window or tha sunroof, buckin' tha sixteen
You ain’t a gangsta 'Em', this is gangsta shit
And «50» you ain’t nuthin' but a gangsta bitch
«Pac'» would have never did no song with no wanksta snitch
He confusin' ya’ll he ain’t tha shit
We sex, money and murda you niggas
Ain’t no playin' around with this rap shit
Banana clip, mack’s spit bodies rap up in plastic
This tha city where tha skinny niggas die (no)
You heard my dogs this is tha city where tha skinny niggas ride nigga…
Plaaattt… Hussein tha don
Believe we got this shit poppin' in this muthafucka
Rule' it’s good…
And we into tha muthafuckin' club you punk niggas walkin out
Brick city, Rule, Rap- alot- mafia!
Murda!
Yound D', Merc, Exsaless
These niggas ain’t ready for this gansta shit right here
We been doing this shit for a long time
Ya’ll niggas got the streets confused nigga
We been on this gansta thug shit
Bitch ass niggas you know what it is
Every time we touch tha muthafuckin booth nigga
It’s gonna be fire, fire on you niggas asses
Niggas better gracefully bow tha fuck out nigga
Hussein Fatal' nigga, Rap-alot-mafia, nigga
M.I.B nigga, murder inc bosses
Rule' we here baby, brick city jerses mafia
Yeah… Shadow…let's get it…