Verse 1: [Willie D]
 Motherfuckers are dying
 And getting buried in the cemetary
 Cause they ass couldn't pass the preliminaries
 That's when you mind your own
 Stay in line and keep the fuck out of mine
 Cause goddamn I ain't got it all
 This year I'm a fuck off a whole lot of y'all
 There was a body found in a lake
 Butt naked, wrapped in duct tape
 And the #1 suspect came from a broken home
 That ain't been fixed yet
 You got family, ah that's beautiful
 I want to see them at your goddamn funeral
 Along with your bitch and your friends
 Cause I'm a view the body, and pop your ass again
 No I'm not dick riding the chronic like the others
 I'm just the wrong motherfucker
 For a nigga to play with or say shit
 Behind my back, cause nigga that's gay shit
 I'll make a nigga drop his pants then buck him
 Throw him in the ditch and let the dope fiends fuck him
 I can't charge it to the game
 Cause the game never paid Willie D a goddamn thing
 I'm talking about a cold-blooded murder
 You never heard of a recipe for a murder

 Chorus:
 Lay your guns down
 You don't want to see me clown
 One shot to your dome
 Two shots, now you're gone
 (2x)

 Verse 2: [Sho]
 Niggas I'm smooth
 But watch me move on this groove
 About niggas getting they ass misused
 I'm a soldier, I don't start trouble see
 But somehow man the shit just find me
 Now take a nigga talking shit
 Better yet he talking shit to me
 Trying to impress one of his homies
 A front for a bitch that I done already fucked
 And to this day I can still get my dick sucked
 Mix that together with a hot ass club
 And that's a little dish called a nigga getting his ass drugged
 But my hands ain't enough
 I gotta schedule you a wait
 Give you two to the head for old times' sake
 So don't fuck with me and don't fuck with this clique
 Unless you ready to lay in front of a pulpit
 With your mama crying listening to some verses being read
 For you trying to catch lead with your head
 Did you hear what I said?
 I want to see some red, pronounce your punk ass dead
 Now you can beg, give me your dope and your bitch
 Suck my dick but it still won't change shit
 Because I hate motherfuckers who talk trash
 So don't let your mouth overload your ass
 But some still gonna flex
 And I'm a swing and connect
 And it's gonna feel like a train wreck
 I'm putting in work
 Fucking with Sho you'll be the quietest nigga in the church
 And if a bitch is in my mix then a nigga gotta hurt her
 Bitches die too my recipe for a murder

 [Willie D]
 My recipe for a murder is simple
 Fuck with Will and get one to your temple
 So pull your motherfucking guns
 And I'm a show you I'm the clean-up man in more ways than one
 You got a posse, a thick clique
 Cool, it makes it easier to hit me a bitch
 I want to see you piss on yourself
 And your eyes buck, for fucking with Wize Up
 Cause there's too many studio gangsters making noise
 Knowing that they're motherfucking choir boys
 I'm coming from the south
 I talk that talk, I walk that walk that fucks your ass off
 Niggas try to deal with it
 But got the fuck out of Dodge when they saw I was real with it
 So if you're talking shit about the Gulf Coast
 Suck a dead man's dick until you're comatose
 And if a cop want to blast, we can blast
 I'm a Tupac Shakur his ass
 I'm talking about a cold blooded murder
 You never heard of a recipe for a murder

 Chorus (2x)

 Verse 3: [Willie D]
 Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
 I'm trying not to lose my head, but dig this
 One nigga got got in the parking lot
 Cause his punk ass ran me hot
 Talking about he coming back
 With his boys and his gat
 But he ain't never coming back
 See when a motherfucker threaten Willie D
 I gotta fuck him off before he fuck off me
 The trigger finger ain't never nervous
 So unless you're sucking my dick, save the lip service
 I know a gang of motherfuckers who done passed
 For letting that mouth overload that ass
 It's a wreath from the goddamn forest
 Check out the motherfucking chorus

 Chorus (2x)

 Yeah, it's time for all you motherfuckers out there to wise up
 Cause we handle our business on the records and the streets
 Punk motherfuckers