Tony Yayo - Homicide lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Homicide Lyrics

Tony Yayo – Homicide Lyrics

Turn me up in them fuckin headphones real quick man,
I'm finna body this track an body a nigga when I get outta here man,

1st verse
C*** sucker this aint rap, check ma rap sheet,
Ill feed you to the rats, wit peanut butter on yo feet,
44 bulldog, they money hustle hard, so the feds want ma face on that damn number card,
I drag you in the elevator, hit the stop button, when I pop sumthin, they can't fingerprint nothin,
I help you wit yo bitch, I'm lovin ya dame, shoot her ass in the heart, hit the jugular vein,
Niggas talk but they don't live it, these niggas is bucked, go through the projects n there jewels is tucked,
I'm in apartment 4b, wiping down that llama, wit two freaks kissin like britney an madonna,
An you kno how I ride when the beef is on, pull out blahh blahh, like jamaican songs.

Chorus
Its a ninnne it's ninnne,
There's a clip in the nine,
Bullet in the clip, bullet in the chamber,
Round on the ground, an that's why homicide all around,

There's a hooole, hooole, there's hooole in his head,
Hooole in his leg, hooole in his pants, hoooles everywhere,
An that's why homicide all around,

There's a body, there's body, there's a body in the drop,
Body in the lot, body uptown, body downtown,
An that's why homicide all around.

2nd verse
I'm in that brand new range,
When I put up kid,
I turn your brains into red car-ving stains,
That's the beauty of gruesome valets,
I'm a loud mouth nigga but ma ruger silent,
Sun up, sun down, ma fish still move,
An if a nigga wanna stop, he gonna be fish food,
Yea yayo rhyme but I merk a person, an when ur mind leave ur body, ya spirit is soul searchin,
Gas ya team, nigga imma blast ya team, I got plastic milk jugs full of gas-o-line,
44s buck loud, you layin in heaven, while ur mum an ur pops in deep clouds of depression,
I turn ur head into pasta, an bag-sukini, like that bitch did that rasta in new jack city,
In broad daylight, you better think twice, or that thing on ur hip better spray right.

Chorus
Its a ninnne it's ninnne,
There's a clip in the nine,
Bullet in the clip, bullet in the chamber,
Round on the ground, an that's why homicide all around,

There's a hooole, hooole, there's hooole in his head,
Hooole in his leg, hooole in his pants, hoooles everywhere,
An that's why homicide all around,

There's a body, there's body, there's a body in the drop,
Body on the block, body uptown, body downtown,
An that's why homicide all around.

Outro
I'm feelin to fuckin kill somethin right now nigga, fuck,
I got a shit loada guns right now nigga, homicide come around I'm gone nigga,
Ya see them suits an ties ya best believe I did that to ya nigga, matter fact I did do that to ya huh,
Come on man, this shit is real man, this is for them niggas that, fuck yo listen let me tell you somethin,
Don't run up on a whip, jus run up on a nigga an blow his fuckin brains out, that's gangsta nigga, you hear me, don't run up on a whip an spray somethin,
Let me see you shoot a nigga brains out, an stand there for 2 minutes, and then run, motherfucker!
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Songwriters: E. ZORRILLA GOMEZ
Homicide lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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