Z-Ro - Murder'ra lyrics

rate me

(feat. Pimp C, Spice 1 & Vicious)

[Pimp C:]

Uh, the damn place made me crazy

I don't care about nothing but my daddy my granny, my bitch and my babies

Everything else, is expendable

Find out that fake niggaz, ain't dependable

I don't owe, you niggaz shit bitch

Home light weight but my style great, now my pockets is the shit

Now it's time, for expansion

Bought a nice house for parole, now I'm grind up building a mansion

I'm a rapper, and a game capper

Blue and red like a snapper, got a thang for them pussy ass jackers

That ain't, no real hustle

Get some white gold or work it, and getting some real muscle bitch

If you want it, you can sho 'nuff get it

Made me bust your watermelon, come on down fuck with it

Everybody, ain't no punk

I'm talking to you now boy, don't make me go and pop the trunk biatch

[Hook:]

Everyday, me keep it sucker free

Me not fuck with nobody, so why do them fuck with me

Don't test me temper, make me have to watch me cool

Mack buyacka-buyacka, I didn't wanna act a fool

But I'm a murderer, murderer

I'm a murderer, murderer

[Spice 1:]

It's Mr. Bossilinie, rolling up busting with real riders

Drop them b-b-bombs, like I'm up in Al Qida

Cause I'm a murderer, put it on you haters for real

Hit a nigga with the 4-5, get to dumping slugs all in his Caddy grill

Smoke chronic for my glaucoma, yeah I said glaucoma

I got a motherfucking glock, and I put niggaz in comas

Hit corners on 24's, waving hi at your hoes

With bald heads braids, perms and afros

I'm caked up like Duncan Hi, but I'm not your average do' boy

I autograph a slug, and put you on the flo' boy

It's the Spiceberg Slim, Soprano Montana minds

I done been through the flames, walked through the motherfucking fire

They can never, put my flame out

And if I wasn't high, I'd pull your motherfucking brains out murderer

[Hook]

[Z-Ro:]

Everyday I label my loot, leaving you ladies lonely

I don't love pussy, I just love to murder these niggaz when they walk up on me

Y'all don't know me, some of y'all rappers think y'all know me

This nigga right here don't give a fuck though, so I suggest you hoes step back

What I got in my pants is called a, that's too big to fit in a holster gat

Straight from where niggaz sell that mad crack, just ran him over crack

It ain't no love in Missouri City, my partna I know it look nice

A 4-5 fuck around, hit a nigga you'll get took twice

Might get beat up and robbed, or you might get beat up and shot

It all depend on what you riding in, and if it look like you got a lot or not

I use to think I'd have a future, playing basketball

But lately all I been doing, is putting people in caskets y'all

Am I sorry hell naw, if I sent him he was already on his way

When the grim reaper swing by, it'll make you wish your ass was home today

Fuck with me I'ma hit up Spice, it ain't a thang to tap the trigger twice

Brrr-click brr-click, they sideways into the next life

[Hook]