Foxy Brown

"Massacre"

[Intro]
Machine Gun Kelly you bast*rds
This the sh*t the other b*tch almost got killed for
b*tch you was under that jeep when them shots flew off
Brooklyn baby, aha, oh, uh-huh, uh, uh, yeah, uh huh
Give me some bloodclat gunshot, ah, uh-huh
Yo, it's another one

[Chorus]
It be the murder, murder, murder, the uh, uh, the murdering sh*t
Massacre them!
It be the Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, the uh, uh, that massacre sh*t

[Verse 1]
Uh, ayo, that bullsh*t Black Friday sh*t was garbage
How the f*ck she love Big, and sh*t on his Wallace?
You’s a ballerina dancer, shawty, not a hip-hop artist
It be the lame b*tches fronting the hardest
c*ck sucking, ain't nothing changed, still Foxy, Foxy
Still pop big sh*t, n*gga, c*cky, c*cky
Keep the red bottoms on, n*gga, rocky, rocky
I put my Gucci on, like I'm walking, modeling
Keep’s me a dread n*gga, like I'm Flacko, papi
Think these broke b*tches better start paying they hommy
Lil' homie, I'm back on my hustlin' flow
Motherf*cker like Taraji-aji, woah
Thirsty b*tch wanna hate on Foxy, uh-huh
Ten years later know she hating Minaj, yeah
Woah before the casket drops
Send your ass some shots, to your motherf*cking body-ody

[Chorus]
It be the murder, murder, murder, the uh, uh, the murdering sh*t
It be the Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, the uh, uh, that massacre sh*t

[Verse 2]
Uh, yes, I'm back looking like I left
Only fly b*tch alive, I'm the fly one left
Fox Boogie, what's goodie?
Grass staying in my Birkin bag
Oh sh*t, f*ck your whole IRS
Y’all n*ggas ain’t killers, y'all some dusty doges
Haters runnin’ round Brooklyn in them dusty Rovers
All them n*ggas buy Chanel loafers and a b*tch chinchillas
But them n*ggas used to nut to my posters
Wipe it all for my city n*gga, Jeezy, Jeezy
Blow that money fast, n*gga, Meechie, Meechie
I'm still spending money off of touch me, tease me
Ask us, ooh this b*tch, that, Keke, Keke
To di*k riding Piddy, Piddy, rocking speedies
And them bullsh*t BC, BG's
And all that subliminal rap sh*t
I'll put you in a chinchilla casket
It’ll match your black skin, b*tch, I will not surrender!
Have my young blood b*tches from BK screaming I'm who pinned her
That b*tch is 'bout to get moved, vest
And one of them b*tch come, a gwan, dutty she next
Brooklyn, where we at y'all? Taking it home
In just my timbs on, and my microphone
Glass house, throwing them stones
Bear witness to the rise and fall of Ms. Kimberly Jones

[Chorus]
It be the murder, murder, murder, the uh, uh, the murdering sh*t
It be the Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn, the uh, uh, that massacre sh*t

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