Black Child:



Word to God

Ya know who the fuck this is?

Ya know we would kidnap yo kids?

Ya know what the fuck we do?

Murda bitch niggaz like you

For real all the time

Any place any where

Ya'll niggaz can get it

Act like ya'll don't know



In the world that's ice cold

Blacks die slowly

Cats snag groupies

Gats and leave you lonely

My mama always told me

The streets will slow you down

Daddy neva showed me

How heat will hold me down

So now, I rob and steal

The shit you fill

With a clique that kills

Yeah, my shit that real

I hustled hard all my life

Ran the streets all night

My wife always said everything

Was gonna be aiight

She was right

And that's the one reason

Why I love her

But everything she said

Went in one ear and out the other

Word to Mother

Look at it from a thug point of view

When the kids need clothes

What a thug gonna do?

Hit the streets and hustle

Or pick up the heat and bust you

I'm tryin to eat like Russell

Murda is my hustle

you keep chasin yesterday

You gonna miss tomorrow

Its murda motherfucka

We don't bang or rob

We take shit

Fuck you and yo fake bitch

When the eight spit

You can feel the hatred

Taste it

You high right now

You ain't ready to die right now

Before five we'll calm you down

You in the charmer now

It's drama how

A child will shut shit down

Killin niggaz for the fuck of it

I'll get you touched for chips

Fuck that shit and fuck yo wips

Fuck you bitch you can just suck my dick



Chorus:



If you keep chasin yesterday

You gonna miss tomorrow

Its murda motherfucka

We don't bang or rob

We take shit

Fuck you and yo fake bitch

When the eight spit

You can feel the hatred

Taste it

Its your blood

When we show love

We murderers ( murderers )

We throw slugs

We hustlers ( hustlers )

We sell drugs

And tell thugs livin it up

That there times up



Tah Murdah:



Yo, Yo

I don't give a fuck if you niggaz hate me

I drop bodies off where the lakes be

But lately, I've been hittin cribs be safe where the cake be

I take three to the feds for the love of the dollars

And put that hot shit through you and watch you Holla, Holla

The same niggaz I roll wit I'ma brawl wit

Hold my tanks

Run in the bank, and take it all with

Playa we flawless

Wit nothin to loose

Gun buttin and bruisin

Niggaz ya'll can't live

Funny shit about it

Niggaz want to hit me

Forget about it

Thug-shit I'm livin

Ya'll niggaz spit about it

I rob and extort niggaz

Two-thirds of my life

The other third has been

Swingin on cars

Chasin the birds

If you ever get the urge to come

Try for test

All in one day you'll get none

And lied to rest

It's Murda

The only code of the ghetto

It's Murda

Nigga hand me the bezzle

And dance with the devil

Guns gradually spit

Gangsta shit

Attractin your bitch

Gettin head leaned back in the six

I master the chips

Nigga I'm tryin to tell you

You holdin hammers and nail you

Have you were the dogs couldn't smell you



Chorus:



If you keep chasin yesterday

You gonna miss tomorrow

Its murda motherfucka

We don't bang or rob

We take shit

Fuck you and yo fake bitch

When the eight spit

You can feel the hatred

Taste it

Its your blood

When we show love

We murderers ( murderers )

We throw slugs

We hustlers ( hustlers )

We sell drugs

And tell thugs livin it up

That there times up



Ja Rule:



Ja's the motherfuckin problem

Any nigga think not

I'ma pop 'em

Put the lid on niggaz

Demand that I spot 'em

Who gettin it? I got 'em nigga

And go got 'em to the cross in the roads

Show them how the guns blow

I'm a degenerate nigga

Addicted to hydro

Pushin four lanes

Top down with my eyes closed

Got a death wish

Money, drugs, and murderin shit

What you want with this?

We'll kidnap yo kids

Clap up yo cribs

It's the Murderers

What you know that does

That kill shit , just because?

We them hot niggas

Sell more records then roc niggas

I'ma lock it down for six months

And shock niggas

what's my name?

J to A, the are-you-L-E

With them hoes

That get through more sheets then

I's lay, you can't deny me

I'm the motherfuckin one

Drugs and bitches, like Heron

The don be the rule

If you hot get priced on your jewels

Cop a benz, and 20 inch chrome yo shoes

I got nothin to loose

But everything to live for

Thoroughbred's the man

That supply the raw

I put my smack down

>From N-why to Chi-town

Incorporated

Murder spittin them rounds

You don't want to hear how we sound

We cop the flame

It's Murda

And shit gonna change

Niggaz...



Uh, uh

Motherfuckas, understand that

Uh, uh

We live or die for this here

Nigga it's MURDA!!

Motha fucka

Give it to 'em

We'll like that

All my murderers!!

My dog

Fuck the world

Ya heard

Murder Inc. niggaz

Writer : LORENZO/ATKINS/GILL/OGLETREE/CROCKER
Copyright : Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC