Underground Kingz - Murder Lyrics

I'm still Pimp C bitch so what the fuck is up?
Puttin' powder on the streets
'Cause I got big fuckin' nuts
Comin' back from Louisiana in a Fleetwood Lac
I just served them niggas some shit
To put they fiends on they back
Got the pounds going for 4 cause you know I just paid 2
Nigga bought thirty from me So I front him 42
He gon' pop for 700 times 62
24/8 is what I do so nigga fuck what 'cha do
If I told ya cocaine numbers, you would think I was lyin'
Young ass niggas 22 is talkin' bout they retirin'
In the game ain't a thang comin' foreign with Benz
Brick home and two apartments where I entertain friends
Mo bounce to the ounce 'cause the Brougham the shit
I done got me 50 ounces out of birds in this bitch
Tightin' up, no slack, bitches checkin' my stock
Got some birds I'll sell a nigga
So might 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, 'cause we got money to make
And when playaz from the South stack G'z man
Like Ball I got to stack big cheese man
Bitch say he want a 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 goddamn day
Big paper I'm foldin'
Hoes is on my mutherfuckin' jock
For all this dick that 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 poppin' shit my nigga empty the clip
Ho ass nigga

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

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 right for the pickin'
Now as my pockets thicken
I be kickin' nickel slickin' 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 get 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 and take off her skirt
Now make the pussy hurt
It's the Master
Hit the Swisha faster then you fever blister bastard
Fuck yo sister faster
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 can shove us out the game
So they better buck us
Cause the cluckers they love us
Make them glass dick suckers
Shake their jelly like Smucker's
I hit like nun-chuckers
Cause Short Texas bring the rukus
This for my muthafuckers
Cookin' cheese to crooked G'z
Rockin' up quarter keys
Just to get the hook with ease
Wannabes get on yo knees
Feel the squeeze from them HK 1-3s
From here to overseas
We do what we please
Don't trip cause 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 ripped out my Barrelli
Flyin' through yo Pelle Pelle and
Some smelly red jelly is drippin' out of ya belly
Servin' 'em like a Deli jumped on my cellular telli
Ho sell it like it's goin' out of style
You can't see me Marcus so have a
Motherfuckin' Sweet and a smile

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder