ro – murder’ra lyrics – z

(feat. pimp c, spice 1 & vicious)

[pimp c:]
uh, the d*mn place made me crazy
i don’t care about nothing but my daddy my granny, my b*tch and my babies
everything else, is expendable
find out that fake n*gg*z, ain’t dependable
i don’t owe, you n*gg*z sh*t b*tch
home light weight but my style great, now my pockets is the sh*t
now it’s time, for expansion
bought a nice house for parole, now i’m grind up building a mansion
i’m a rapper, and a game capper
blue and red like a snapper, got a thang for them p*ssy *ss jackers
that ain’t, no real hustle
get some white gold or work it, and getting some real muscle b*tch
if you want it, you can sho ’nuff get it
made me bust your watermelon, come on down f*ck with it
everybody, ain’t no punk
i’m talking to you now boy, don’t make me go and pop the trunk b**tch

everyday, me keep it sucker free
me not f*ck with n*body, so why do them f*ck with me
don’t test me temper, make me have to watch me cool
mack buyacka-buyacka, i didn’t wanna act a fool
but i’m a murderer, murderer
i’m a murderer, murderer

[spice 1:]
it’s mr. bossilinie, rolling up busting with real riders
drop them bb-bombs, like i’m up in al qida
cause i’m a murderer, put it on you haters for real
hit a n*gg* with the 4-5, get to dumping slugs all in his caddy grill
smoke chronic for my glaucoma, yeah i said glaucoma
i got a motherf*cking glock, and i put n*gg*z in comas
hit corners on 24’s, waving hi at your hoes
with bald heads braids, perms and afros
i’m caked up like duncan hi, but i’m not your average do’ boy
i autograph a slug, and put you on the flo’ boy
it’s the spiceberg slim, soprano montana minds
i done been through the flames, walked through the motherf*cking fire
they can never, put my flame out
and if i wasn’t high, i’d pull your motherf*cking brains out murderer


everyday i label my loot, leaving you ladies lonely
i don’t love p*ssy, i just love to murder these n*gg*z when they walk up on me
y’all don’t know me, some of y’all rappers think y’all know me
this n*gg* right here don’t give a f*ck though, so i suggest you hoes step back
what i got in my pants is called a, that’s too big to fit in a holster gat
straight from where n*gg*z sell that mad crack, just ran him over crack
it ain’t no love in missouri city, my partna i know it look nice
a 4-5 f*ck around, hit a n*gg* you’ll get took twice
might get beat up and robbed, or you might get beat up and shot
it all depend on what you riding in, and if it look like you got a lot or not
i use to think i’d have a future, playing basketball
but lately all i been doing, is putting people in caskets y’all
am i sorry h*ll naw, if i sent him he was already on his way
when the grim reaper swing by, it’ll make you wish your *ss was home today
f*ck with me i’ma hit up spice, it ain’t a thang to tap the trigger twice
brrr-click brr-click, they sideways into the next life


/ z lyrics