Verse One: {Pimp C}



I'm still Pimp C bitch so what the fuck is up?

I'm puttin' powder on the streets cuz I got

Big fuckin' nut's comin' back from Louisiana

In a Fleetwood Lana 

I deserve them nigga's shit to put they pea's on they banner

Got the pound four by four cuz you know I just

Pay to nigga bought thirty from me

So I fronted forty two, he gonna pop to seven hundred

Times sixty two, twenty four eight is what I do

So fuck what 'cha do 

If I told ya cocaine number's you think I was lyin'

Young nigga's twenty two talkin' bout they retirin'

In the game ain't a thang comin' far then we been

Rick's home two apartment's where enter

Tight friends mo bounce to the ounce

Cuz the Wood the shit, I done got me 

Fifty ounces out of birds ya bitch

Tightin' up no slack bitches checkin' my stock

Got some Burban City nigga's so I'm a go to my garage

Just got back from California kicked it with B-Legit

Put me down with purple chronic and that hurricane shit

At the studio with Tom, I wish I could stay

I got to holla at Master P, cuz we got money to make

We with playa'z from the South stack gee'z man

Like Ball I got to stack big cheeze man

Bitch say he wanna show ya

You got nine grand I ain't rappin' shit

Till my money in my hand

South Texas mutherfucka that's where I stay

Gettin' money from yo bitches every 

Got damn day

Big paper I'm foldin'

Hoes is on my mutherfuckin' jock

For all this dick I be holdin'

I hate grown man show it

Especially if a fool take our style and 

Act like my nigga's don't know it

I kick it with the trill nigga's so you best's

Not trip if ya keep on talkin' shit 

My nigga empty the clip

Hoe azz nigga



Chorus:



Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder



Verse Two: {Bun-B}



Well this Bun-B bitch and I'm the king

I'm movin' chickens got 'em finger lickin'

Stickin' nigga's who be trippin'

You need a swift kickin' yo azz is right for the pickin'

Now down as my pocket's stickin'

I be thinkin' nigga's slippin' you sick

When I be clickin' now take a look at the

Bigger nigga Marl liquor swigger 

Playa hata ditch digger figure

My hair trigger you bound one hot one in yo liver

You shiver shake and quiver

I'm free from nigga you wetter den a river

For what it's worth it's suburblous some nigga's doin' dirt

Fuck her first and take off her skirt

Make the pussy hurt Mister Master

Hit the Swisha faster then you keep a 

Blister bastard fuck her sister faster

Hit the elbro for sale yo

Brother better have my mail hoe

Before I catch a murder case and go to jail hoe

Hell no, time to bail hit the trail so

We can sell mo fuckin' yell get the scale 

No other bullet duck or get shoved 

Inside this game they better buck us 

Cuz the clucker's they love us

Make them class dick suckers 

Check they jelly like smoker's

I hit like nun-chuckers

Cuz Short Texas bring the rukus

This for my muthfucker's 

Cookin' cheese to crooked geez

Rockin' up quarter key's 

Just to get the hook with ease 

Wanna bee's get on yo knee's

Fill the squeeze from them HK one three's

>From here to over sea's

We do what we please 

No trip cuz 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 Barile 

Flyin' through yo belly belly and

Some smelly red jelly is drippin' out of ya belly

Servin' 'em like a Deli jumped on my cellular telli

Hoe sell it like it's goin' out of style

You can't see me Marcus so have a

Motherfuckin' Sweet and smile



Chorus: