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    Murdah lyrics
    Artist : Bizzy Bone
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    Murdah lyrics Song Lyrics
    song lyrics
    Murdah lyrics

    [Bizzy Bone-Chorus]
    Murdah is out of control/ Murdah just let it blow (It blow)/ Word up if you bucked a mothafucka down for taken ya dough (Taken ya dough...) nigga

    [Bizzy Bone]
    Know this liquor prolly killin my liver/ The villian is still in effect/ And I buck this motherfucker down, live and direct/ Hey, what I ma chastise my
    momma? Demand the respect, get up and strategize bitches cryin like they never wept/ Slept in the gutter with no tech, I m still in the dungeon/ Bitch I
    never left, pass that sticky icky ganja/ Creep on ah come up, I crept and I came/ Respect the dead game, remember ta let ya nuts hang, often, matter of
    fact I ma do mine all day/ I don t sniff coke, I like to make money/ Put the fiends in the room, who s hungry? Cut from the cloth they cut me black cherry
    weed/ Cherokee Indians based in Cleveland, thuggin and thievin till I m the last one breathin/ Only one believin is that Seventh Sign Saga/ Fresh and
    remodeled, plush like Ramada now, holy like Ramadan, a momma s smile/ Capo, my nigga what/ Nigga execution always my guns is crippin cuz, P.B.D. posse/ I
    roll with Rasu, Nina Ross, and Skails, Rhythm and Ghetto, Rosiah, 7th Sign murda em all, yep...

    And like little Capo-Confuscious say "Nigga I ll kill for you."

    [Chorus]

    -Prince Rasu-
    Be careful as fuck, baby, take precaution fo sho / They say that nigga Gotti quiet , better fire off a Calico/ Bastard, I m a animal/ My guradians was
    avenues/ My Lord be my shepherd, but my swarms for collatoral/ Who can I trust? Where can I turn? When will it all end? I m suited up in Timberland boots,
    Regime marchin God damnit I m a grown man, its time to take my own stand/ Fuck the federations, my heart is racin like grown mens/ Pumpin the anger
    built up from years of stress, killers and haters surround me daily, no fears of death/ I hear the breaths of angels and demons fightin over my soul/
    Lord, just give me the path through this bloodbath and it s on, Lord/ Roll all haters, out my zone when it s goin down/ Ride with the 7th Sign/ Violate,
    we gone clown/ Four pounds be safe in the streets of the showdown/ Love to Gambino, you the chief, dog/This is my town, your town

    [Chorus]

    [Josiah Rasu]
    Cock back and blast, knockin sparks up out they ass/ Makin marks come off that cast, nigga you know what it is, think I m serious/ Then heart attack,
    missles aimed straight at where the fuck your heart is at/ Fix cement or get hit, how hard is that, to comprehend, I m tryin to be gone before them
    souljahs come marchin in/ You blue suit wearin faggets with badges ll get the flux, I don t give a fuck who you are we can send this motherfucker up/
    Crucifixion come quickly come and get me Mister Reeper/ I ain t scared to die/ I m all like more than willin, the more the real the more that feel it, so
    I ma stay real until my heart stop/ My reflection with hoes, the essence of the hard-knock life/ I am the light, and if you miss us then u misses haven t
    heard of murder/ Then you don t know of pain, my veins bleed the same blood of the motherfuckers who murdered my momma so I m a natural born killa/ Than
    I, there was no cap peelas

    [Chorus]

    [H.I.T.L.A.H. Capo-Confuscious]
    Me and my Comptons monster mashin mobsters/ Analyzin we done plottin / Plans in progress; Rap game held hostage/ Ransom, trillion dollars/ Low
    tolerence/ Suspect; Armed and dangerous, violent tendency s/ The industry stick up, Kingpin Capo Regime/ Bend on your knees, duck tape and tied down,
    follow my lead or everyone shot, bleed/ Squeeze round after round, empty shells hit ots the ground/ Told you we ain t fuckin around/ Strictly about our
    business on some gangsta shit, no bank account/ Money talks, greedy hogs walk the plank/ Negotiatin our way, uh, forget the deal/ Your record labels
    sorry but your phony ass superstars carbon copied, indistiguished, no identity/ Raise up off these N-U-T s, cock suckin nigga, please/ We ain t dealin
    with no Jerry Hellers, hell no/ Call us the money makers, pullin capers/ Baby momma need that paper/ Get up off your ass, can t be no couch potato/ Only
    gets greater later/ Better believe in playa haters, see

    [Chorus]
    song lyrics
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