Ooh, ooh, ooh Yeah, this for da clones in the ATL, With them fake ass chains, For all the flexy ass niggaz comin' outta Atlanta,
[Verse 1] I'm comin, two 50 cal's in hand, Long goat-tee nigga the Taliban I'll murda man, i'm tryin to murk somethin, This aint no chuck e cheese, I'm tryin to hurt somethin', These niggaz claimin G's, claimin' they run the south, please.. How you run this shit in them butt fuck caprice, Atleast, you oughta know bout my flow The P the T the R the O the Y, Nigga i'm so fly call me jet, Jump off in the ocean still aint wet, I flex, I motherfuckin ball better ask em Catch a nigga talkin shit, Motherfuckin blast em, Murda, M - U - R - D - A, I'm pumpin gats at whoever in the way, I got the gunplay, don't think they understand, But I don't think they wanna fuck wit the Murda Man, Murda Man
[Hook] I don't think they wanna fuck with the Murda Man Fuck wit the Murda Man, fuck wit the Murda Man, Well Uh-Huh
[Verse 2] Yaaaaa'll trippin, now everybody crunk Yall niggas gon make me pop the trunk Cuz I remember way back in the day When the ATL wasn't gettin no play Then I came out, dropped We Ready Niggas went to bouncin, ridin them box Chevy's But I guess that was then, this is now When I catch ya ass in the street the gun blow, blow I represent the hard, I represent the angle I represent the real, I represent the danger I represent the cars, I represent the dream I represent respect, I'm representin my team It's Mister PT aka Murda Man Ya pistol in ya car, my pistol in my hand And you can ask Chan, I shot a nigga van Dont think you understand, I'm the fuckin Murda Man, Murda Man and
[Verse 3] Stiiiiiiiill spinnin, empty my magazine I jump off in my limousine and flee the scene This ain't the SWAT team, this ain't Lil Scrap n them I rep that hard shit and fuck a platinum And Little Jon, used to by homey, used to be my Ace Now I wanna slap the the taste out ya mouth Nigga down south I'm a legend When ya see me keep motherfuckin steppin And flexin, so what you gotta A at nigga That don't mean shit to a south side killa Wussup Shay? wussup Tod? On that ass, Shady Park Murda, M-U-R-D-A Im bustin shots at whoever in my way Cockin my A-K, don't think they understand But I don't think they wanna fuck wit the Murda Man, Murda Man, and
[Hook]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
