Murder Talk lyrics

[Intro: Bos Flip]
(Markhoes, it's a motherf*ckin' tag)
(Rare, is that you? Haha)
Damn, I'm tired as hell, I'm in the booth though
Got them, ayy, I'ma, ayy, it's the yeah
Motherf*cker twenty ball

[Verse 1: Bos Flip]
Ayy, why they play?
Ayy, told you, "If you play, you lay" (Walk down)
Ayy, n*gga, you was born a b*tch so, n*gga, you gon' die that way (pus*y)
Ayy, n*gga try me like a b*tch, old n*gga, you gon' die today
And I know n*ggas out here snitchin' so I just stay out the way (They tellin')
Ayy, we might slide today (No cap)
Make a mama cry today (No cap)
Ayy, n*ggas, they gon' hide today, we poppin' out, outside today (On my mama)
Ayy, they done let them members in the door, b*tch, get up out my face
Yeah, I'm out my top, I dare a n*gga get up out his place
A n*gga get up out his place, we put his ass back there (Let's go)
Hit his ass, watch him fall, stand over, keep hittin'
Teach you how to kill a n*gga, n*gga, this that murder business (This that talk)
Ayy, make sure when you hit a n*gga, keep on shootin' 'til the gun geekin' (Let's go)
Vfft vfft, vfft vfft, n*gga this that f*ckin' switchy
Baow baow, baow baow, that's that ARP with six (Baow, baow, baow)
Ayy, make sure that you put a scope on top so you don't do no missin'
And make sure that you overkill his ass until his body twitchin' (He f*cked)
Ayy, hit his face so many times, they can't even recognize the n*gga (Damn)
Shell catcher, thirty-eight, they won't even recognize who did it (I'm gone)
Always be the suspect, I can't never go out like the victim (Nah)
Ayy, blind out his ass, he won't recognize what hit him (Yeah, over)
Ayy, if I want you dead, n*gga, you got up soon as I say, "Get him" (No cap)
R.I.P.s poles, that n*gga dead, they better be choppers with him (He gone)
Chopper sent his ass way so high, that n*gga thought the helicopter sent him (Yeah)
Sent that n*gga ass so high to God and told him that the doctor sent him (Mop)
[Verse 2: 2SG Tay & Bos Flip]
Told him the doctor sent him, but really, my chopper sent him
Smacked that n*gga so hard with my blicky, he thought the box was hittin' him
Drop the racks on top his head, lil' b*tch, I make his mama get him (Damn)
Try to swing in that lil' Honda, keep on shootin' 'til the top go missin' (Gone)
You can eat me, I'ma f*ck lil' b*tch, but we don't do no cuffin' (No)
Every n*gga 'round me got a body, yeah, you know we livin' risky
See, you rap, paperwork, came back, yeah, that n*gga b*tchy
Got a new splat, it's a Scat, all-black sppinin' like a frisbee (Let's go)