Word to God
Y’all know who the fuck this is
You know we would kidnap your kids
You know what the fuck we do
Murder bitch niggas like you
For real, all the time, any place, anywhere
Y’all niggas could get it
Act like y’all don’t know
In a world that’s ice cold, blacks die slowly
Cats snatch rollies, gats’ll leave you holy
My momma always told me: the streets will slow me down
Daddy never showed me how heat will hold me down
So now I rob and steal, spit shit you feel
With a clique that kills, yeah my shit’s that real
I hustle hard all my life, ran the streets all night
My wife always said everything was gonna be alright
And she was right, and that’s one reason why I love her
But everything she said went in one ear and out the other
Word to mother, look at it from a thug point of view
When the kids need clothes, what a thug gonna do?
Hit the streets and hustle, pick up the heat and bust you
I’m tryin’ to eat like Russell, murder is my hustle
But you keep chasin’ yesterday, you gonna miss tomorrow
It’s murder motherfucker we don’t beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and your fake bitch, when the .8 spit
You could feel the hatred, taste it
You high right now, you ain’t ready to die right now
The .45 will calm you down, you under trauma now
It’s drama how a child will shut shit down
Kill a nigga for the fuck of it, I’ll get you touched for chips
Fuck that shit, and fuck your whips, fuck you bitch
You can just suck my dick
If you chasin’ yesterday, you gon’ miss tomorrow
It’s murder motherfucker, we don’t beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and your fake bitch
When the .8 spit you could feel the hatred, taste it
It’s your blood, when we show blood, we murderers (murderers)
We throw slugs, we hustlers (hustlers) we sell drugs
And tell thugs live it up till yo time’s up
Yo I give a fuck if y’all niggas hate me
I drop bodies off where the lakes be
But lately, I’ve been hittin’ cribs
And safes where the cake be
I take three to the vest for the love of the dollar
I put that hot shit through you and watch you Holla Holla
The same niggas that I ball with I’mma brawl with
I’m a tank running in banks and takin’ all of it
Player we’re flawless, with’ nothin’ to lose
Guns busting and bruisin’ niggas, y’all can’t live
Funny shit about it, niggers wanna hit me, forget about it
Thug shit I’m still livin’ y’all niggas just spit about it
I rob and stomp niggas 2/3rd of my life
The other 1/3 spent sittin’ on curbs chasin’ those birds
If you ever get the urge to come by and try to test
There’s only one and then you get numb and lied to rest
It’s murder the only code to the ghetto
It’s murder, nigga hand me the bezel
Or dance with the devil, guns rapidly spit
Gangsta shit, attractin’ yo bitch, gettin’ head and lean back in the 6
I mastered the chips, nigga I’m tryin’ to tell you
You’re holdin’ hammers and nail you
We have you where the dogs couldn’t smell you
If you chasin’ yesterday, you gonna miss tomorrow
It’s murder motherfucker, we don’t beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and yo fake bitch
When the .8 spit you could feel the hatred, taste it
It’s your blood, when we show blood, we murderers (murderers)
We throw slugs, we hustlers (hustlers) we sell drugs
And tell thugs live it up till yo time’s up
Ja’s a motherfuckin’ problem
Any nigga think not, I’ma pop him
Put the lean on niggas the minute I spot em
Who’s gettin’ it, I got him, nigga dead and gone
Gonna guide ’em to the crossroads show em how those guns blow
I’ma degenerate nigga addicted to hydro, switchin’ four lanes
Top down with my eyes closed, got a death wish
Money, drugs, and murderer shit
What you want with this? We’ll kidnap yo kids
And clap up yo crib, it’s the murderers
Who you know with guns that kill shit
Just because we’re them hot niggerz
Sell more records than Roc niggas
I’ma lock it down for 6 months and shock niggas
What’s my name?
J the A the R.U.L.E. with them hoes get between more sheets than Isley
You can’t deny me, I’m the motherfuckin’ one
Druggin’ bitches like heron (heroin)
The don be the Rule, if you’re hot get bice and bice
On your jewel to cop a Benz
20-inch chrome, the shoes, I got nothin’ to lose but everything to live for
Thoroughbred demand and supply the raw
I put my smack down from N.Y. to Chi-Town
Incorporated Murder spittin’ them rounds
You don’t wanna her how it sounds, when we cock them flames
It’s murder and ain’t shit gonna change
Niggas
www.pillowlyrics.com
419786
497975
88k
20