[Intro: Free Murda]

Yeah.. Free Murda, Brooklyn

Uh-huh, what, check-two

Uh-huh, mic check, three

Uh-huh, check four, uh-huh



[Free Murda:]

Dude like phony in the rear

Dude, put zoconi in his ear, stogey and a beer

Looking all loney on the stairs

How long he said, only for a year, pony for a pair

Of sneakers, millimeter left homey in a stare

Lick forty in the air, for your whoodies in the chair

Blocka, for niggas getting fed all proper

And I got shit locked like dreds on a rasta

Get your shit rocked, like hands on my pasta

Soon, I'm the dude, leave you dead for the doctors

Put them tools in you, in the bed, singing opera

Put the ooze in you, for that bread and your locker



[Chorus: Free Murda]

He don't wanna beef no more

He ain't with his peeps no more

He ain't with his heat no more

Wonder why, he ain't in the street no more

It'll make you scream...

You know that thing, make a nigga scream...

You know that thing, make a nigga scream...

You know them things, make a nigga scream...



[Free Murda:]

Free put niggas straight out they misery, ape to your memory

Behind a yellow tape is where ya'll men'll be

Watch niggas shake like bitches titties be, watch 'em lose

Weight like Ricki Lake, from like ten of these

You tryin' to rule, you don't wanna do that there

I ain't try'nna lose like Tyson when he chewed that ear

Niggas fighting, but I'm shooting to tears, drip down

Cheeks, get down, beef, see the fifth round, me?

I ain't joking, I'm just hoping, you don't send a threat

Nigga I'm toting, leave ya'll smoking like a cigarette

It ain't a nigga yet, prove that I'm chump

Any nigga bet, I'm hype, when I'm shooting that pump

Get slumped, try'nna get it crunk, like Lil' Jon

You get bucked out the rental car

You can stand and stare like you want beef

We can do this fair and square like front teeth



[Chorus]



[Free Murda:]

Son played tough, that's how he had to get sniped

I knew 'son day'll' come like it was Saturday night

What goes around, comes around, so what you do when you get back

I'mma be around, til I'm suited in jet black

Hit rounds, til the ruger set back

I'm aiming for ya crown, little shooters respect that

Came to get it on, once that four's wrong

Respect when your gun hot, but test it when it's warm

Bang at your bird ass vest, to get it on

Bang til your son at rep, move, then it's on

Guess whose out here supplying the reefer

And the only nine's he got is the size of sneakers

I got cannons, the size of your speakers

Look at shorty show his back, cuz school ties from the teacher

Stop lying preacher, saying everything gon' be OK, must be high and lit up



[Chorus]