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Correct Murder'ra Lyrics
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Z-Ro
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Correct Murder'ra
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Lyrics:
(feat. Pimp C, Spice 1 & Vicious) [Pimp C:] Uh, the damn place made me crazy I don't care about nothing but my daddy my granny, my bitch and my babies Everything else, is expendable Find out that fake niggaz, ain't dependable I don't owe, you niggaz shit bitch Home light weight but my style great, now my pockets is the shit Now it's time, for expansion Bought a nice house for parole, now I'm grind up building a mansion I'm a rapper, and a game capper Blue and red like a snapper, got a thang for them pussy ass jackers That ain't, no real hustle Get some white gold or work it, and getting some real muscle bitch If you want it, you can sho 'nuff get it Made me bust your watermelon, come on down fuck with it Everybody, ain't no punk I'm talking to you now boy, don't make me go and pop the trunk biatch [Hook:] Everyday, me keep it sucker free Me not fuck with nobody, so why do them fuck with me Don't test me temper, make me have to watch me cool Mack buyacka-buyacka, I didn't wanna act a fool But I'm a murderer, murderer I'm a murderer, murderer [Spice 1:] It's Mr. Bossilinie, rolling up busting with real riders Drop them b-b-bombs, like I'm up in Al Qida Cause I'm a murderer, put it on you haters for real Hit a nigga with the 4-5, get to dumping slugs all in his Caddy grill Smoke chronic for my glaucoma, yeah I said glaucoma I got a motherfucking glock, and I put niggaz in comas Hit corners on 24's, waving hi at your hoes With bald heads braids, perms and afros I'm caked up like Duncan Hi, but I'm not your average do' boy I autograph a slug, and put you on the flo' boy It's the Spiceberg Slim, Soprano Montana minds I done been through the flames, walked through the motherfucking fire They can never, put my flame out And if I wasn't high, I'd pull your motherfucking brains out murderer [Hook:] [Z-Ro:] Everyday I label my loot, leaving you ladies lonely I don't love pussy, I just love to murder these niggaz when they walk up on me Y'all don't know me, some of y'all rappers think y'all know me This nigga right here don't give a fuck though, so I suggest you hoes step back What I got in my pants is called a, that's too big to fit in a holster gat Straight from where niggaz sell that mad crack, just ran him over crack It ain't no love in Missouri City, my partna I know it look nice A 4-5 fuck around, hit a nigga you'll get took twice Might get beat up and robbed, or you might get beat up and shot It all depend on what you riding in, and if it look like you got a lot or not I use to think I'd have a future, playing basketball But lately all I been doing, is putting people in caskets y'all Am I sorry hell naw, if I sent him he was already on his way When the grim reaper swing by, it'll make you wish your ass was home today Fuck with me I'ma hit up Spice, it ain't a thang to tap the trigger twice Brrr-click brr-click, they sideways into the next life [Hook:]
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