album cover
Murder
818
Rap
Murder은(는) 앨범에 수록된 곡으로 1996년 1월 1일일에 Priority Records에서 발매되었습니다.The Shocker
album cover
발매일1996년 1월 1일
라벨Priority Records
멜로디에 강한 음악
어쿠스틱 악기 중심
발랑스
춤추기 좋은 음악
에너지
BPM87

뮤직 비디오

뮤직 비디오

크레딧

실연 아티스트
Silkk the Shocker
Silkk the Shocker
실연자
작곡 및 작사
Big Ed
Big Ed
작곡가
Silkk the Shocker
Silkk the Shocker
작곡가
Sons of Funk
Sons of Funk
작곡가

가사

Y'all **** ready for this Silkk the Shocker shit?
Switch!
Y'all **** out there bangin', claimin' red and blue
Y'all **** 'bout it?
****, be a leader not a follower (Haha)
(My motherfuckin' TRU tattoo) Uuunnnggghhh!
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
Well, it's time to ride, slide
Them **** that fucked up, they lucked up
Seen them **** rollin' in they Cutlass
I'm 'bout act bad, no doubt (Damn), I'ma go in they house
When they be home, I'ma blast, take them **** out
'Cause we be 'bout murder, no, fuck that, we 'bout killin'
Drama, fuck all that, stay real when it's time to peel
Caps, no doubt, hah, I check the house
'Cause I ain't gon' be satisfied 'til all y'all stressed out
That's a fuckin' shame, I ain't gon be satisfied 'til I see blood, ****
What you think we was doin' before we was rappin'? We was drug dealers
Now you think I'm a let this shit slide 'cause I done got fame
Fuck the name, I can't have shit in this fuckin' game
Without **** tryna test nuts, without **** tryna act bad
I'ma fuck you ****
You gon' have a closed casket and I'm gon' crack yo' mask
**** talkin' shit, but, bitch, it's goin' down
See I was locked up for a second, but now I'm home now
It's time for **** to get checked, they done pushed me to the limit
I was a cool ****, but now, it's only beginnin'
It's time to ride, when it's time to slide, you die
No doubt about it, act bad, let's put that on the vibes
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
Mr. Wicked, I be comin' hard, just like a hurricane
Choo-choo, shootin' brains, killin', Mr. Murder, mad
Hustla, balla, Mr. fuckin' Do-a-reporter
Don't give a fuck about a bitch or a balla
Break me off proper, gun in that doctor
Gat's at yo' head, call me Mr. Non-Stopper
Tech 9 shooter, lady, ruder
Down South hustla, West Coast ruler
3rd Ward villain, I'm in the killin'
They ban my videos from TV, they say they drug dealin'
Ice cream slangin'
And if the radio don't play this gangsta shit, what are they thinkin'?
They could stop a **** from comin' up
They could stop a young **** from makin' big bucks
Independent and black-owned
But still got more money than Al Capone
Y'all **** can't stop a killa
A murder, a hustla, fuck it, a drug deala
But if they shoot, did up with police
Ready to run dope from here to the Middle East
And call me Mr. Paul
'Cause I be smokin' motherfuckers like Steven Seagal
Mr. Killa, the ghetto Qaddafi
And 187 on any **** that try to stop me
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
****, they want to start some static, but if they stack then let it be started
And at your funeral, I wants to hear 'em say dearly departed
Because I got it on my mind and on my mind I got's it
When I pop ya with this heart rock, make your heart stop 'cause I'm 'bout it
Jack you like a New Jersey drive
My **** are always down for that who ride, I ride
Creep with these killas on our tippy-tippy toes
See the barrel knows where the bullet go
And then we smash off in that 4 by 4
See we rolled on your set and then bucked
A bunch of **** fallen and they can't get up
You wants to fuck with this TRU click and get ya khakis creased
Get your shirt pressed and the bullets rip through your chest
TRU **** don't fall, fool, we too busy flossin'
It might be your ho we tossin'
Step to us and we make ya hits like Michael Jackson
'Cause every **** in my crew is 'bout it and we packin'
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
Murder, murder, murder, murder
187, 'cause I don't give a fuck
Haha, now y'all know
We run the motherfuckin' streets
No Limit, TRU 2 da game
Silkk the Shocker
This shit go out to all y'all gangsta **** and gangsta bitches
(Soldiers)
From Richmond (Atlanta) to down South (Alabama)
To the East Coast (To the West Coast)
To motherfuckin' Kentucky, Missouri (to Florida) to Dallas (Houston)
To New Orleans (Austin, Texas) to motherfuckin' Miami (D.C.)
To Cincinnati (Ohio) to D.C. (North Carolina, South Carolina)
Fuckin' Baton Rouge (Oklahoma) Mississippi (Kansas City)
Lafayette (Georgia, Seattle, Washington), Detroit (Omaha, Nebraska), Chicago (Phoenix)
And to all y'all motherfuckin' ghetto (Alberquerque) gangsta (Indiana)
Real **** and bitches (All y'all **** that's locked up) everywhere
Murder, murder, murder, murder, haha
But y'all **** betta watch y'all ass
(Watch y'all ass) so y'all won't get caught up in motherfuckin' 187
(a 187)
'Cause every **** I know is 'bout it ('Bout it!)
**** that mean don't trust nobody (These **** rowdy)
'Cause the streets is real, believe that
Written by: Big Ed, Silkk the Shocker, Sons of Funk
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out􀆄 copy􀐅􀋲

Loading...