Lyrics of Murdah

Bizzy Bone

pochette album Murdah
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Release date : 11/10/2005

Duration : 0:06:21

Style : Hip Hop/Rap



sonnerie téléphone portable pour Murdah
Video clip

-bizzy bone-chorus-
Murdah is out of control/ murdah just let it blow (it blow)/ word up if you bucked a mothafucka down for taken ya dough (taken ya dough...) nigga

-bizzy bone-
Know this liquor prolly killin my liver/ the villian is still in effect/ and i buck this motherfucker down, live and direct/ hey, what i'ma chastise my momma? demand the respect, get up and strategize bitches cryin like they never wept/ slept in the gutter with no tech, i'm still in the dungeon/ bitch i never left, pass that sticky icky ganja/ creep on ah come up, i crept and i came/ respect the dead game, remember ta let ya nuts hang, often, matter of fact i'ma do mine all day/ i don't sniff coke, i like to make money/ put the fiends in the room, who's hungry? cut from the cloth they cut me black cherry weed/ cherokee indians based in cleveland, thuggin and thievin till i'm the last one breathin/ only one believin is that seventh sign saga/ fresh and remodeled, plush like ramada now, holy like ramadan, a momma's smile/ capo, my nigga what/ nigga execution always my guns is crippin 'cause, p.b.d. posse/ i roll with rasu, nina ross, and skails, rhythm and ghetto, rosiah, 7th sign murda em all, yep...
And like little capo-confuscious say "nigga i'll kill for you."

-chorus -

-prince rasu-
We can't get fucked, baby, take precaution fo' sho'/ they say that nigga gotti quiet , better fire of a calico/ bastard, i'm a animal/ my guradians was avenues/ my lord be my shepherd, but i swarms for collatoral/ who can i trust? where can i turn? when will it all end? i'm suited up in timberland boots, regime marchin' god damnit i'm a grown man, time to take my own stand/ fuck the federations, my heart is racin' like grown mens/ fucked with the anger built up from years of stress, killers and haters surround me daily, no fears of death/ i hear the breaths of angels and demons fightin' over my soul/ lord, just give me the path through this bloodbath and it's on, lord/ roll all haters, out my zone when it's goin' down/ ride with the 7th sign/ violate, we gone clown/ four pounds be safe in the streets of the showdown/ love to gambino, you the chief, dog/ chi-town youngsta

-chorus-

-josiah rasu-
Cock back and blast, knockin sparks up out they ass/ makin marks come off that cast, nigga you know what it is, think i'm serious/ then heart attack, missles aimed straight at where the fuck your heart is at/ fix cement or get hit, how hard is that, to comprehend, i'm tryin to be gone before them souljahs come marchin in/ you blue suit wearin faggets with badges'll get the flux, i don't give a fuck who you are we can send this motherfucker up/ crucifixion come quickly come and get me mister reeper/ i ain't scared to die/ i'm all like more than willin, the more the real the more that feel it, so i'ma stay real until my heart stop/ my reflection with hoes, the essence of the hard-knock life/ i am the light, and if you miss us then u misses haven't heard of murder/ then you don't know of pain, my veins bleed the same blood of the motherfuckers who murdered my momma so i'm a natural born killa/ than i, there was no cap peelas

-chorus -

-h.i.t.l.a.h. capo-confuscious-
Me and my comptons' monster mashin' mobsters/ analyzin' we done plottin'/ plans in progress; rap game held hostage/ ransom, trillion dollars/ low tolerence/ suspect; armed and dangerous, violent tendency's/ the industry stick up, kingpin capo regime/ bend on your knees, duck tape and tied down, follow my lead or everyone shot, bleed/ squeeze round after round, empty shells hit ots the ground/ told you we ain't fuckin' around/ strictly about our business on some gangsta shit, no bank account/ money talks, greedy hogs walk the plank/ negotiatin' our way, uh, forget the deal/ your record labels' sorry but your phony ass superstars carbon copied, indistiguished, no identity/ raise up off these n-u-t's, cock suckin' nigga, please/ we ain't dealin' with no jerry hellers, hell no/ call us the money makers, pullin' capers/ baby momma need that paper/ get up off your ass, can't be no couch potato/ only gets greater later/ better believe in playa haters, see

-chorus-

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