C-Murder - Camouflage & Murder lyrics

rate me

(feat. Curren$y, Mac)

[talking:]

Ay nigga, ain't you Mac

What you doing in this motherfucker

[Mac:]

Camouflage nigga what, you'll catch me in the cut

Fucking shit up for every nigga, the bigger pig the bigger trigger

Cause my niggaz, in the river

Stories about the Mac, will make 'em shiver

They prolly at they crib loading they techs, wondering who I'ma smoke next

Patrolling they set, Malcolm X nigga

The New Orleans Jesus, pack a tre-deuce

And you can bring the drama to Zeus, if you heard about what that 3rd about

Nigga feel that, that fake shit we bout to kill that

On the for real black, I never show-boat

Be on the low, like a black sto' the Mac flow

Sorta like a cracked flo', a different plateau the Mac show

When I attack though, I never turn my back cause

The bullets, penetrate the back slow

[talking:]

C-Murder (what nigga), man number 187

(what's hap'n), oh you in on murder one

(fucking right), get your shit boy you going upstate

(fuck the world bitch)

[C-Murder:]

Nigga I'm C, motherfucking Murder never scary

But it's very necessary, to leave my adversaries buried

Crack sales bring bitches in lines, but I'm eternal

Lethal weapons stay cocked, many niggaz may drop

From the top like flies, I despise you hoes

With crooked smiles, make a nigga wanna 'nap your child

Niggaz bleed, my enemies fearing attack

They move with silence, when nigga bring the violence

Do they know, me and my soldiers tighter than glue

We pass bitches and weed, my nigga Mac planting seeds

Let the devil tell it, bailing making the scene

I whoop the nigga ass in jail, he was a dope fiend

And no collect calls, ghetto pictures on the wall

You gotta crawl and fall, before you ball nigga fuck y'all

Around the way, my niggaz feel what I'm spitting

It's Camouflage and Murder nigga, so pay attention bitch

[talking:]

Curren$y, I hope you got currency

Cause your bail two million dollars, you understand that

You lil' rap mother-(hol-hol'-hol'-hol' up man

I got two million dollars cash, call Stan

I'm out this bitch, you heard me)

[Curren$y:]

What you gon do, when you get out of jail

Skerch off the scene, in a yellow ML

4-30, Benz truck

With four bitches inside, who all about letting a dog and his friends fuck

I'm too large, for haters

My niggaz smoke bud tote guns, picture they all on paper

I'm talking bout niggaz like Big, you know who

Ceedy, Wayne, Geezy fuck it the whole crew

Uh we all roll with nines, and bout letting 'em fly

But I try to stay on the low, with mine

Catch lil' daddy slipping, point the 4-4 at his spine

Leave your body in the forest, where no one can find

And you boys, don't want none of that

I know niggaz that look at jail time, like Summer camp holla back

[talking:]

Yeah ya dank, ha-ha-ha