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Verse One: {Pimp C}



I'm still Pimp C bitch, so what the fuck is up?

I'm puttin' powder on the streets cuz I got big fuckin' nuts.

Comin' back from Louisiana in a Fleetwood 'Lac

I just served them niggas some shit to put the fiends on they back

Got the pound four by four cuz you know I just pay 32

Nigga bought thirty from me so I front him fourty-two.

He gonna pop to seven hundred
times sixty two,

twenty four/ eight is what I do so fuck what 'cha do

If I told ya cocaine numbers you think I was lyin'

Young ass nigga's twenty two is talkin' bout they retirin'

In the game ain't a thang comin' foreign with Benz

Rick ass owns two apartments where I entertain friends.

Mo bounce to the ounce cuz this Burm the shit

I done got me fifty ounces out a bird in this bitch

Tighten up, no slack bitches checkin' my stock

Got some birds I'm sellin' nigga's so I'm a go rock for rock

Just got back from California kicked it with B-Legit

Put me down with purple chronic and that hurricane shit

At the studio with Tone, man I wish I could stay

I got to holla at Master P, cuz we got money to make

We with playas from the South stack g's man

Like Ball I got to stack big cheese man

Bitch say he wanna show you got nine grand?

I ain't rappin' shit until my money in my hand

South Texas mutherfucka that's where I stay

Gettin' money from yo bitches every God damn day

Big paper I'm foldin'

Hoes is on my mutherfuckin' jock

For all this dick I be holdin'

I hate clone men show it

Especially them fools that take our style and act like my niggas don't know it

Kick it with the trill niggas so you best not trip

If ya keep on talkin' shit
My niggas empty a clip

Ho ass nigga



Chorus:



Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder



Verse Two: {Bun-B}


Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com

Well it's Bun-B bitch and I'm the king of movin' chickens

Got them finger lickin's

Stickin' niggas who be trippin'

You need a swift kickin' yo ass is ripe for the pickin'

Now as my pocket's thicken

I be kickin' nigga's slippin'
you sick when I be clickin'

now take a look at the bigger nigga Malt liquor swigger
Playa hata ditch digger

Figure my hair trigger give a hot one in yo liver

You shiver, shake, and quiver

I'm frivolous if a nigga get wetter than a river

For what it's worth it's the birth of some niggas doin' dirt

Fuck her first now take off her skirt

Make the pussy hurt, it's the master

Hit the Swisha faster than you fever-blistard bastard, fuck her sister passed her

Fifty elbows for sale, yo

Brother better have my mail ho

'Fore I catch a murder case and go to jail - oh, hell no!

Time to bail, hit the trail so
We can sell mo fuckin' yayo get the scale

No other bullet duckers could shove us out of this game
They better buck us
Cuz the cluckers they love us

Make them glass dick suckers

Shake they jelly like Smucker's

I hit like nunchuckers

Cuz Short Texas bring the ruckus for my motherfuckas

Cookin' cheese to crooked G's

Rockin' up quarter keys

To get the hook with ease

Wanna-bes get on yo knee's

Feel the squeeze from them HK one three's

From here to overseas
We do what we please

Don't trip cuz we flip
Light up a dip

I'm breakin' 'em off from they hip to yo lip

Go ask that boy Skip

That nigga Bun rip
With one clip, soon as the gun slip

Now I done whipped out my Barrelli

Flyin' through yo Pelle Pelle and some smelly red jelly is drippin' out of ya belly

Served 'em up like a deli
jumped on my cellular telly

Hoes sellin' like it's goin' out of style

You can't see me Marcus, so have a motherfuckin' sweet and smile



Repeat Chorus


Thanks to Kelly Hernandez for these lyrics