I'm still Pimp C, bitch
So what the fuck is up?
Puttin' powder on the street
'Cause I got big fuckin' nuts
Comin' back from Lou-siana in a Fleetwood 'Lac
Out to serve them niggas some shit
To put they feet on they back.
Got the pounds from befo'
'Cause you know I jus' paid dues;
Nigga bought 30 from me, so I front him 42.
He gon' profit 700 times 62
24-8 is what I do, so, nigga, fuck what you do
If I tol' you cocaine numbers,
You would think I was lyin'
Young-ass niggas 22 is talkin' 'bout they retirin'
In the game, ain't a thing
Comin' foreign with Benz
Rich-ass home, 2 apartments where I entertain friends
Mo' bounce to the ounce,
'Cause the Bull Room the shit
I done got me 58 ounces
I done burdened this bitch.
Tighten' up, no slack, bitch
Checkin' my stock
Got some ? City niggas
Some I go rock-fuh-rock.
Jus' got back from California
Kicked it wit B-Legit
Put me down with purple chronic
And that hurricane shit
In the studio with Ton,
Man, I wish I could stay
I got ta holla at Master P 'cause we got money to make.
It went greater from the South stack Gs, man
Like ballas gotta stack big cheese, man.
Bitch, say you want a show?
You got nine grand?
I ain't rappin' shit, until my money in my hand.
South Texas, muthafucka, that's where I stay.
Gettin' money from yo' bitches, every goddamn day.
Big paper I'm foldin';
Hoes is on my muthafuckin' jock for all this dick that I be holdin'
I hate clone me and 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 you keep on poppin' shit,
My niggas empty a clip, ho-ass nigga.

[Chorus]
Murder, murder [Repeats]

[Bun B]
Well it's Bun B, bitch,
And I'm the king of movin' chickens,
Not them finger lickins
Stickin' niggas that be trickin'
You need a swift kick in
Yo' ass is ripe for the pickin'.
Now, as my pockets thickin'
I be pickin' nickel, slickin'
You sick when I be clickin'
Now, take a look at the bigger nigger,
Malt liquor swigger, playa hater, ditch digger
Figure my hair trigger, give a hot one to 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 the first thing in a skirt, and make a pussy hurt
Mister master, hit the swisher faster,
Than you fever blister bastards
Fucked your sister passed her
Hit the elbows for sale, yo
Bro better have my mail, ho
Fo' I catch a murder case and go to jail, oh
Hell no, time to bail hit the trail, so
We could sell mo' fuckin' yayo
Get the scale no other bullet duckers could shove us
Out of this game they better buck us
'Cause them cluckers they love us.
Make them glass dick suckers shake they jelly like Smuckers
I hit like nunchukas
'Cause short Texas bring the ruckus, this fo' my motherfuckers
Crooked cheese so crooked G's rockin' up quarter ki's,
To get the hook wit' ease,
Wannabe's get on your knees, feel the squeeze from the HK-1-3's
From here to overseas, we do what we please
Don't trip as we flip, light up a dip
I'm breakin' 'em off from yo' 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 Beretti
Flyin' through your Pelle Pelle and some smelly red jelly
Is drippin' outta yo' belly
Served him up like a deli, jumped on my cellular tele
Ho sellin' like it's goin' out of style
You can't see me Marcus
So, have a muthafuckin' sweet and a smile.

[Chorus]
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Murder Lyrics

UGK – Murder Lyrics

Songwriters: BERNARD JAMES FREEMAN, CHAD L. BUTLER
Murder lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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