Murda Dem lyrics

by

Spice 1


[Intro]

(That motherf*cker’s gone, he’s not comin back B
I laid the murder game down, let n*ggas know we not f*cking around man
sh*t’s cool yo)

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]

Woke up on some bullsh*t, think I’m finna rob me a rapper
Showed up fifty deep, better show then kidnap his ass right after
And n*ggas don’t be doin that at parties in my city cause that sh*t might happen
East side G.I clique f*ck n*gga we body snatchers
Shout ma n*gga T-mac, wigs comin in, can’t relax
n*gga took a trip today, twenty freaks in the room on the beach, you believe that?
Dope in my cup so a n*gga bout to lean back
Big b*tch finna fire the weed up, another b*tch finna throw the dope on
Whip it up and scoop it like snowcones
Feel like tony when he stepped outside, and looked at the blimp
They say what, just say f*ck em, shake these weak n*ggas off your di*k
I’m the first n*gga from the G to flip this street sh*t legit
Before I met that n*gga snow I was thuggin and trained to go (it’s gangsta gibbs)

[Hook: Freddie Gibbs]

It’s murder, it’s murder, it’s murder, it’s murder (x4)

[Verse 2: G.I. Fleezy]

I put my name out in the streets
They already know not to f*ck with a n*gga like me, don’t even blink
Chop em with that fire like fourth of July when you seen, can’t nobody breathe
Won’t nobody eat if they don’t get it all from me so we believe in giving back
That’s just to ashes that’s a fact
So lot of pressure better measure a rich n*gga right where he at
One keg note, two pop off, three ransack, this fit the crime, of a real n*gga that’s gunning for a n*gga that’s tryin to run up and try and come take mine
Don’t fake dying, get the job done
Don’t play blind, take all of em
We saw love, and they saw something
Cleaned up when they think all done
I’m bout mine, you bout yours, that’s a real n*ggas connect
Don’t do the crime, ain’t bout the life, that’s a f*ck n*gga ejected, murder

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Big Kill]

Murder, Murder, Murder my n*gga that’s all she f*cking wrote
Riding down 9-65 blowing on that purple smoke
Pounds in the back, ? on my lap, I got these n*ggas hating dog
n*ggas hating on Big Kill and I don’t even know
Restfully, I do my thing when I’m in that f*cking trap
This lifestyle here I chose your b*tch, but n*gga we live this rap
You better sit yo punk ass back, before yo ass gets clapped
This 2-2-3 will chop yo ass down round after round
My G.I. n*ggas shifting their sh*t, in and out of town
I’ll f*ck yo b*tch and hit me a lick, for lights and f*cking pounds
I’ll show up at yo mof*cking door, we bout to shut sh*t down
We put them hoes face down on the floor, but we don’t f*ck around
It’s kill
[Hook]
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