Murder Musik

Talkin' out ya- talkin' out ya- Talkin' out ya- talkin' out ya- Rock off my Glock, feel the barrel on ya head Now you thinkin' to yourself, that I never should've said "Freddie, please, I wanna leave, I just wanna go back home" "I be crying on the floor, Freddie, please, no more" Talk- talkin' out ya ass, I'm talking all about my gun And you know I cannot lie to you, I think you better run Freddie pop up in your place, and whip the smile off your face 'Bout to leave without a trace, and a grin I can't erase Thought never bought, gotta get my guala You ain't my father, ain't no dougie, now just give me monеy You fucking with me bitch, my .50 kinky, I'm so shifty I'm freaky, you weaky, cannot comе here, cannot meet me Bossed up, cock up fuck I cock it loaded to me Far from home, I want to roam, until I hit them doonies I've got my strap, I've got my .8 talking, you know I'm shooting The Freddie booming out while working on improvement Rock off my Glock, feel the barrel on ya head Now you thinkin' to yourself, that I never should've said "Freddie, please, I wanna leave, I just wanna go back home I be crying on the floor, Freddie, please, no more" "Freddie, please, can you stop it? Please, do not cock it Please, do not pull the trigger, please, bitch, you've lost it" "Freddie, please, can you stop it? Please, do not cock it Please, do not pull the trigger, please, bitch, you've lost it" "Freddie, please, can you stop it? Please, do not cock it Please, do not pull the trigger, please, bitch, you've lost it" "Freddie, please, can you stop it? Please, do not cock it Please, do not pull the trigger, please, bitch, you've lost it"