Lyrics Murder Game - P$C

Murder Game

If you want it fuck boy bust a motherfuckin' move
(If you want it fuck boy bust a motherfuckin' move)
He don’t want it with me, I’ll up my strap
Put his brains in his lap, let’em think about that
(He don’t want it with me, I’ll up my strap
Put his brains in his lap, let’em think about that)
Hold up (Hold up) Slow down (Slow down)
Ho nigga (Ho nigga) Sit down (Sit down)
If you think I’m a ho, if you think I’m a bitch
Like Boosie and Webbie say you got me fucked up
If you think I’m a ho, if you think I’m a bitch
Like Boosie and Webbie say, you got me fucked up
So killa (so killa)
Slow down (slow down)
Before you get put 6 feet down
In the ground
Work somethin' (work somethin')
Hurt somethin' (hurt somethin')
Walk up on your victim and squirt somethin' (squirt somethin')
Think I ain’t got nuts to pull the trigger?
You done lost your mind
I walk up on you killa cock the Glock then release my nine
I’m tired of niggas thinkin' cuz I rap I’m not the same person
I’ll run up on you quick and bust yo shit, live right in person
Think about these verses before you approach me with that misbehavin'
Cuz I got sawed-off chop your 40 cal yeah I got different flavors
Center squad and Goon shoot up the room ain’t no wakin' neighbors
All my soldiers got revolvers, silence’em with baked potatoes
Fuck a hata, hit your ass with hollows till your body fall The impact of my 40
threw your skeleton into the wall
I love action, bust a nigga with pistols and assault rifles
My murder game is equal to the motherfuckin' speed of lightning
Young viking, hit a pussy nigga like I’m Mike Tyson
So excitin', 4th of July fireworks when I start lightin'
It’ll be a nationwide man hunt, why you piss my niggas off
Why you piss my niggas off?
Got to make you take a loss
You talkin' but you ain’t sayin nuttin' it’s obvious that you fake and flaw
Read’em like a book I’m about to rip his pages off
Do it then, say you tough, do it then, you’s a bluff
Called it like I seen it you’s a busta nigga, do it then
Never lose my cool, wild out dude and lose your limbs
The weapon you choose to use, you’re not gonna know what you gon' do wit them
You better slow ya roll slow ya roll slow ya roll
Zone 1, Zone 4 drag his ass through the floor
I ain’t trippin' (I ain’t trippin') I ain’t trippin' (I ain’t trippin')
I’m a grown man, bitch, I handle my business (I handle my business)
Campaignin', champagne rainin' need a blunt I got the purp
I don’t need a chump up in my face unless you wanna be hurt
Get a grill (get a grill) get a grill (get a grill)
Before I do I let it hit you off the real (off the real)
Aye here’s a couple reasons why dissin' TIP ain’t the thang to do
One, I ain’t as lame as you, Two, I done slung more 'caine than you
Three, I’m more of a G than all the niggas who hang wit you
Four, When I show up your ho act like she never came wit you
Drama I’m no stranger to
All the niggas you brang wit you
Lay out in the streets their body leakin' till the change to blue
I’mma be the reason your mom and daddy ashamed of you
And why your cousins, brothers, and sisters don’t even claim to you
Pimp Squad Click punk bitch wanna plainer view?
I’mma point this thang at you seconds before I bang at you
Power and respect the money and fame’s attainable
We don’t mix cuz G’s and tricks ain’t interchangeable
I’mma bang it when my chamber full, long as it’s a thang to pull
Old ladies cryin' kids yellin' niggas sayin' uggghhh
I play the game without a rule or a ref
I’m hands on so when it’s on I do it myself (nigga)