Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Murder (feat. Master P & Big Ed), artist - Silkk The Shocker. Album song The Shocker, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Priority
Song language: English
Murder (feat. Master P & Big Ed) |
Well, it’s time to ride, slide |
them niggaz that fucked up, they lucked up Seen them niggaz rollin in they cutlass |
I’m about act bad, no doubt, I’m a go in they house |
And if they home, I’m a blast, take them niggaz out |
Cause we be bout drama, no fuck that, we bout killin |
Drama, fuck all that, stay real when it’s time to peel |
Caps, no doubt, hah I check the house |
Cause I ain’t gon be satisfied till all ya’ll stressed out |
That’s a fuckin shame, I ain’t gon be satisfied til I see blood, nigga |
What you think we was doin before we was rappin, we was drug dealers |
You think I’m a let this shit slide cause I done got fame |
Fuck the name, I can’t have shit in this fuckin game |
Without niggaz tryin to test nuts, tryin to act bad |
I’m a fuck you nigga |
you gon have a closed casket and I’m gon crack yo mask |
You talkin shit, but, bitch, it’s goin down |
See I was locked up for a second, but now I’m home now |
It’s time for niggaz to get checked, they done pushed me to the limit |
I was a cool nigga, but now, it’s only the beginnin |
It’s time to ride, when it’s time to slide, you die |
No doubt about it, act bad, let’s put that on the vibes |
Mr. Wicked, I be comin hard, just like a hurricane |
Choo-choo, shootin brains, killin Mr. Murder, mad |
Hustla, balla, Mr. fuckin Do-a-reporter |
Don’t give a fuck about a bitch or a balla |
Break me off proper, gun in that doctor |
Gats at yo head, call me Mr. Non-stopper |
Tech 9 shooter, lady, ruder |
Down South hustla, West Coast ruler |
3rd Ward villian, I’m in the killin |
They ban my videos from TV, they say they drug dealin |
Ice cream slangin, |
And if the radio don’t play this gangsta shit, what are they thinkin? |
They could stop, a nigga from comin up They could stop a young nigga from makin big bucks |
Independent, and black owned |
But still got more money than Al Capone |
Y’all niggaz can’t stop a killa, |
A murder, a hustla, fuck it, a drug deala |
But if they shoot, did up with police |
Ready to run dope from here to the Middle East |
And call me Mr. Paul |
Cause I be smokin muthafuckas like Steven Seagal |
Mr. Killa, the ghetto Kadofy |
And 187 on any nigga that try to stop me Niggaz, they want to start some stack |
but if they stack then let it be started |
And at your funeral, I want to here em say dearly departed |
Because I got it on my mind and on my mind I got’s it When I pop ya with this heart rock |
make your heart stop cause I’m bout it Jack you like a New Jersey drive |
My niggaz are always down for that who ride, I ride |
Creep with these killas on our tippy tippy toes |
See the barrel knows where the bullet go and then we smash off in that 4 by 4 |
See we rolled on ya set and then bucked |
A bunch of niggaz fallen and they can’t get up You wants to fuck with this TRU click and get ya khakis creased |
Get your shirt pressed and the bullets rip through yo chest |
TRU niggaz don’t fall, fool, we to busy flossin |
It might be your ho we tossin |
Step to us and we make ya hits like Michael Jackson |
Cause every nigga in my crew is bout it and we packin |
Ha ha. |
Now y’all know. |
We run the muthafuckin streets. |
No Limit. |
True to the game. |
Silkk the Shocker. |
This shit go out to all y’all gangsta niggaz and gangsta bitches |
(soldiers) from Richmond (Atlanta) Down South (Alabama) |
to the East Coast (to the West Coast) |
to motherfuckin Kentucky, Missouri (to Florida) to Dallas (Houston) |
to New Orleans (Austin, Texas) to muthafuckin Miami (D.C.) to Cinnicinnati (Ohio) to D.C. (North Carolina, South Carolina) fuckin |
Baton Rouge (Oklahoma) Mississippi (Kansas City) Lafayette (Georgia, |
Seattle, Washington) Detroit (Omaha, Nebraska) Chicago (Phoenix) |
To all y’all muthafuckin ghetto (Alberquerque) gangsta (Indiana) real |
niggaz and bitches (all y’all niggaz that’s locked up) everywhere. |
Murder, murder, murder, murder. |
Ha ha. |
But y’all niggaz betta watch y’all ass |
(watch y’all ass) so y’all won’t get caught up in motherfuckin 187 |
Cause every nigga I know is bout it (Bout it!) |
Nigga that mean don’t trust nobody (these niggaz rowdy) |
cause the sreets is real. |
Believe that. |