Murder Rate Freestyle 4 lyrics

[Verse]
b*tch, I don't walk it, I run it
I ball like the OKC Thunder
These b*tches be comin', I f*ck 'em until they be c*mmin'
Run up on me, choppa drummin', it ain't about nothin'
I'm too busy makin' money, these n*ggas, they makin' assumptions
I know how they comin'
n*ggas talk stupid until I pull up and I sh*t on 'em, n*ggas need a toilet plunger
That's for real
In the kitchen, whippin' up a meal
After that, I'll prolly pop a feel
Pop a pill, then I cop a feel from your b*tch, prolly eat me, Happy Meal
n*ggas still sellin' they soul for a million dollars, that's a crappy deal
So when God come back, you gon' be burnin' money up in hell
I don't got time for it, only Tom Ford, n*gga, yeah, I dress well
Got a bad b*tch and she too bad, so bad, named Jezebel
Knock 'em out, b*tch, Holyfield
Hot as f*ck, but I'm high as hell, so I guess I'm hot like some holy hell
b*tch, I'm sippin' lean, Holy Grail
They want smoke, I'ma give it to 'em
All these n*ggas gon' be p*ssin' daisies, in they funerals throwin' tulips
She gon' put my di*k on her two lips
I'ma shoot in that b*tch, Tyler Ulis
I'ma f*ck on that b*tch for a minute, then pass her to brodie 'cause I know she choosin'
Give a f*ck 'bout the sh*t that you doin'
Paul Wall, how I chop her and screw her
Library book, if I wanna hit it again, I may go just and renew her
I get the money, I spend it on me and not her, so I know that that blew her
But f*ck it, I don't give a f*ck, that's not my girl, so sh*t, whatever