Murder Game lyrics

by

Talib Kweli


[Produced by: Statik Selektah]

[Intro]
Get him boy
Get him boy
Get him boy

[Verse 1: Tek]
I ain't having it don't try to give me dap
I don't f*ck with rats if you take the pack
Better bring that money back
It's a simple fact, that the bill is scrapped
With the milli mac, hit you with a rack
It's a mummy wrap
Haters jumping out got you frozen like a snapshot
Drumroll your whole team the mascot
Pure killa, no filter hoover gang
Real n*ggas never speak about our murder game

[Verse 2: Young M.A]
Crooklyn bullies, black hoodies
Get fully loaded n*gga, I smack pus*y
pus*y pus*y cat, come here pus*y cat
Pull that hoodie back
We shooting first ain't no shooting back
I like my b*tches from the hood
Head tied with the doobie wrap
She told me bring that big dog
I told her bring that cootie cat
6 inch Ruger, 9 milli in that Louis bag
Down that sh*t I be quick to cop the tooly back
[Verse 3: Tek]
Bedford Stuyvesant, the livest one
My barrel is thorough fill a cold burrow
n*ggas on me, I'mma RIP 'em
Put him on display let his homies see him
This young boy think the game is soft
Till they get they whole head knocked off
My n*gga shell shocked from the crack era
20 years later coming home together

[Verse 4: Young M.A]
This style is that really good sh*t
This that wish a n*gga would sh*t
2pac and Suge sh*t
Got a lot of n*ggas mad because the money's steady coming in
When I pull my phone out them b*tches put they number in
Automatic guns you can call my n*ggas drummer men
And when they go burrrrahh, you see a bunch of running men
If you ain't f*cking with M.A aye well f*ck 'em then
The mixtape is coming that's a way to bring the summer in

[Verse 4: Tek]
25 years with an L on it
Put a closed eye no scale on it
f*ck paid a quarter hope it come back
If not guns out and we come back
Still from day one all about the money
Paranoid n*ggas so they move funny
Taught a boy learn from the hand to hand
Death is life, you can die where you stand
[Verse 5: Steele]
I don't give a f*ck, not a motherf*ck
Not a single solitary f*ck
pus*y cream when the pistol buck
Keep a pistol tucked
Come up missing when you riff with us
f*ck the game, b*tch I run the team the commissioner
I'mma freak, I'mma vicious one
Got some b*tches tougher than you n*ggas that will hit you up
Tell the coroner, zip you up
Pop a zip, tell a sensai roll a cinci up

[Verse 6: Buckshot]
Brooklyn, home of the official
Motherf*ckers comeing with a shock for your body tissue
Probably miss you if you was somebody important
Relevant rappers getting clapped in that black coffin
That's often seen when I'm on the scene nah-mean?
M.A said get him Buck, I get him with the team nah-mean?
When I'm on the scene nah-mean?
M.A said get him Buck, I get him with the team
Get him boy feel what I'm spitting boy
When the clip deploy n*ggas get destroyed
RIP, now all I need is a clip of blow it in the crowd
f*ck loud that ain't sh*t to me
n*gga try it, you a joke no laughing
But I'mma grab 'e see heads dying
Feds eying shots firing
BK the liars men b*tch where I just went
[Outro]
Yea yea
I buck 'em down, I buck em down
I buck 'em down, I buck em down
I buck 'em down
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