Pov City Anthem

(Hello, Tah Murder has a message for Sex Street)

(To accept the message, press one)

(To cancel the message)

(Tah Murder 2001 Murder Inc., motherfucker)

(Mr. Fingaz got beats)

Gangsta, gangsta

Gangsta, gangsta

Murder, murder

Gangsta, gangsta

Fuck y'all **** talkin' 'bout?

Gangsta, gangsta

Gangsta, gangsta

This how we do it

Gangsta, gangsta

2001

Gangsta, gangsta

2001 ****, check this shit out

Gangsta, gangsta

Now everybody just bounce

My POV City hustlers bounce

All my hood slimies, and Prada mamis

See how we fall off in the club, it's nothin' but love

Plenty bottles of skimy twisted and sticky bud

And it's fifty-fifty love, all across the board, dog

Gully respect, Gully never floss for broads

Or get out of my character when she back it up

But after something good performs, I had to get up on it

Ma, I'll give it how you want it, make you a new lady

Coke'll open her crazy, now all day she two way me

Type of shit like, ooh, baby, everything you do is gravy

And models, I'm hittin' lately, so all you can do is hate me

Stare me down and screw face me, hype your man up to lace me

Come on, all y'all butter sauce, sweeter than tasties

My hands grip two hammers, double action

Prime time, ****, minus the actin'

Now get your motherfucking hands up

High, touch the sky

And if you holdin' weight, ****, get it up

Mamis in the club lookin' right

Oh, you ain't spendin' the night

Give her the pin number, mami, hit me up

With the SkyTel tag until I get you in the back of a Jag

After we burn a bag, I'ma hit the guts

Oh, you a baller, then ball to this

My pimps, gangsters, and dogs

I ain't mad at you, player, play on

Now hear me holla out, gangster, gangster

Paper chaser, I love the cake

And petite mamis with the Coke bottle shape

So keep shakin' that money maker, mama, I can't hate you

It's a cold world, ol' girl, so take advice from a pimp

What I'm spittin' is venomous ism, listen

When the chrome rims glistenin', on the 'Lac truck

Traffic get backed up, we in this, cloud of smoke from spinach

**** ain't big enough to go some rounds or minutes

I'm heavyweightin', and I ain't speakin' about pounds and fitness

Used to spit off for sport but now it's business

When you see me, holla like you know me

I ain't scared, homie

Picked up the mic, and put down the gats and yo

Now I rap and blow, with a fire acid flow

You know, and dog, I ain't gotta repeat it

Right in front of your eyes, you see it, the best kept secret

Now get your motherfucking hands up

High, touch the sky

And if you holdin' weight, ****, get it up

Mamis in the club lookin' right

Oh, you ain't spendin' the night

Give her the pin number, mami, hit me up

With the SkyTel tag until I get you in the back of a Jag

After we burn a bag, I'ma hit the guts

Oh, you a baller, then ball to this

My pimps, gangsters, and dogs

I ain't mad at you, player, play on

Now everybody just (Ride)

If you sittin' on dubs, in that big body rollin' a bud

Then get (High) Uh, get it crunk

(Murder, gangster love)

And you know it's only right and necessary

That I smash Freddy, after spittin' heavy bars

Metaphors, God, my shit is deadly

Swift, and better believe I'm focused now

Feed you to the vultures, murderous poster child

Click, clack, blow, the pound sure to drop

Then catch me full of that hall or, blowin' on them poppers

But love, livin' and, love them, thug, women

Who will hustle and grind when it's hard times

Player, we came in this game with on gimmicks

You're finished, diminished your frame, you get holes in it

Straight business and no limits, like Master P

So if you 'bout that, scrilla my nilla, then stack them cheese

And twist up, burn the vanilla dutch, we live it up

No bread, dick and Big Red, we givin' sluts

I'm just a villain, willin' to kill for that pot of gold

You gotta know, it's all for the dough

Now get your motherfucking hands up

High, touch the sky

And if you holdin' weight, ****, get it up

Mamis in the club lookin' right

Oh, you ain't spendin' the night

Give her the pin number, mami, hit me up

With the SkyTel tag until I get you in the back of a Jag

After we burn a bag, I'ma hit the guts

Oh, you a baller, then ball to this

My pimps, gangsters, and dogs

I ain't mad at you, player, play on, play on

Yeah, it's a player event, ****

All my players, you heard me

POV City, ****, yeah

Uh, heart of the grungy, cheddar boy, mercy

Yeah, it's goin' down, ****

2001, murder, murder

Gangster, gangster

C-life