BUSY BEE - Murder lyrics

rate me

I was walkin down a dark way, trouble had to find me

The street corner shark was comin up behind me

I grabbed my pistol, punk started to whistle

Like you got a missile, boy, you know this'll

Be fun, I put my hand up on my gun

He tried to cut me on run, huh - but yo, I'm not the one

Flexin up the trigger finger, a dead ringer

I'm not a singer, and life just don't linger

But I looked the boy in his eyes, and he almost cried

But before he died

Murder

In the first degree

That's what you get when you're messin with the Busy Bee

Yeah, murder

You better write your will

I'm Busy Bee, I pay the bills, dressed to kill

Murder

Murder style

Murder style

A black guy on Howard Beach

A boy lay bleedin from his head to his feet

The police writin up his report

Drinkin coffee from a cup and doin what he was taught

At the academy, mistaken identity

The boy was a friend of me, guess he wasn't meant to be

Remedies, diagnosis or cure or a conclusion

There's no confusion, it's just winnin and losin

Hey, there's no pity or remorse

There's no pause, cause what's lost is lost

Huh, so throw his body in the bag

And they'll say that he was high on crack

But it's

Murder

In the first degree

That's what you get when you're messin with society

Yeah, murder

You better write your will

I'm Busy Bee, I pay my bills, dressed to kill

I'm talkin bout

Murder

Girl named Patty drived a black Caddy

The girl was so fine, I wanted to kiss her daddy

Bring her mama out to dinner

Bring Patty to the race track, then bring home a winner

Buy her earrings and medaillons

I got juice by the gallon

But she got legs like a stallion

Plus to be a cutie's her duty

She got brains plus beauty

Don't even think about the booty

Bumpers, and she got no breaks

So when she walks her shimmy'll shake

Like ??? from the earthquake, on the eaves she would drop

She'd go on the horn and say "I can't stop"

The way she move, the way she pose

She knows how to put on - and even take off clothes

I never leave her, I never desert her

She so bad - the bitch was murder

Yeah

Dance, sucker

This is murder

A pretty good-lookin, fine young lady

Drivin a Mercedes, soon to have a baby

Three months gone, she's treated like a pawn

And all the joyridin good times - all that was gone

Her world changed, she was feelin strange

Things was runnin through her brain, cravin, hunger pains

And her friend, he stopped goin steady

Then reality hit her - she realized she ain't ready

So now she must proceed with caution

And sneak to the clinic and gettin an abortion

They're both foetal, the less is too evil

It' still raw, but still legal

It's murder

In the first degree

That's what you get when you're messin with society

Yeah, it's murder

You better write your will

I'm Busy Bee, I pay the bills, I'm dressed to kill

In Bed-Stuy

It's do or die

It's no why

Why's a crooked letter

Yes, let's go get her

You better met my beretta

(Why?) The song set her

Don't do the crime

If you can't do the time

Do let her get away

To pray you must lay

Because if you get caught

You get the time anyway

A lotta guys went to jail who ain't ready

The only thing worse than a criminal is one that's petty

Go to jail to get large

He's doin life - what's his charge?

Murder

In the first degree

That's what you get when you're messin with the Busy Bee

Yeah, it's murder

You better write your will

I'm Busy Bee, I pay the bills, I'm dressed to kill

Talkin bout

Murder

Murder style