paroles de chanson The Murderers - Ja Rule

Word to god Y′all know who the fuck this is
You know we would kidnap yo kidz
You know what the fuck we do
Murder bitch niggaz like you
For real, all the time, any place, anywhere Y'all niggaz could get it
Act like y′all don't know {rapping}
In a world that's ice cold, blacks die slowly
Cats snatch rollies, gats′ll leave you holy My momma always told me the streetz will slow me down
Daddy never showed me how the heat will hold me down
So now I rob and steal, spit shit you feal, wit a clique that kills
Yea my shit′s that real, I hustle hard all my life
Ran the streetz all night
My wife alwayz said everything was gonna be ait
And she was right and that's 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 gon do?
Hit the streetz and hustle, pick up the heat and bust you I′m tryin to eat like Russel Murda is my hustle
But you keep chasin yestarday, you gon miss tomorow
It's murda motherfucker we don′t beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and yo fake bitch, when the eight (.8mm) spit
You could feel the hatred, taste it You high right now, you ain't ready to die right now
The .45 will calm you down, you under trauma now It′s drama how a child will shut shit down
Kill a nigger for the fuck of it I get you touched for chips
Fuck that shit, fuck the whip, and fuck you bitch YOU CAN JUST SUCK MY DICK
(Black Child)
If you chasin yestraday, you gon miss tomorow
It's murda motherfucker, we don't beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and yo fake bitch When the .8 spit you could feel the hatred, taste it It′s your blood, when we show blood, we murderers (murdaraz) We throw slugz, we huselazz (huselazz) we sell drugz
And tell thugz live it up till yo time stopz
Yo I give a fuck if y′all niggaz hate me I drop bodies off where the lakes be
But lately, I've been hitin cribz
And safes where the cake be I take three to the vest for the love of the dolla I put that hot shit thru you and watch you Holla Holla The same niggaz that I ball wit I′ma brawl wit I'm a tank running in banks and takinall of it
Player we′re flawless, wit nutten to lose gunz bustin
And brossen niggerz y'all can′t live
Funny shit about it, niggers wanna hit me, forget about it
Thug shit I'm still livin y'all niggaz just spit about it I rob and stomp niggaz 2/3rd of my life
The other 1/3 spent sittin on curbz chasin those birdz If you ever get the urge to come by and try to test
There′s only one and then you get numb and lied to rest
It′s murda the only code to the ghetto It's murda, nigga hand me the bezzle
And dance with the devil, gunz rapidly spit
Gangsta shit, attractin yo bitch, gettin head and lean back in the whip I mastered the chipz, Nigga I′m tryin to tell you
You're holdin hammers and nails and
We have you where the dogz couldn′t smell you
(Black Child)
If you chasin yestraday, you gon miss tomorow It's murda motherfucker, we don′t beg or borrow
We take shit, fuck you and yo fake bitch
When the .8 spit you could feel the hatred, taste it It's your blood, when we show blood, we murderers (murdaraz)
We throw slugz, we huselazz (huselazz) we sell drugz
And tell thugz live it up till yo time stopz
Ja's a muthafuckin problem
Any nigga think not, I′ma pop him
Put the lean on niggaz the minute I spot em
Who′s gettin it, I got him Nigga dead and gone
Gonna guide em to the cross roads show em how those gunz blow I'ma degenerate nigga addicted to hydro, switchin four lanes
Top down wit my eyes closed, got a death wish Money, drugz, and murderer shit
What you want with this?
We′ll kidnap yo kids And clap up yo crib, It's the MuRdErAz Who you know wit gunz that kill shit
Just because we′re them hot niggerz
Sell mo records than Roc niggaz I'ma lock it down for six months and shock niggaz
What′s my name? J the A R.U.L.E. with them hoez get between more sheetz than Isley
You can't deny me, I'm the muthafuckin one
Druggin bitches like Heron(heroin) The god be the Rule, if you′re hot get bice and bice
On your jewel to cop a Benz 20 inch chrome, the shoes,
I got nuttin to lose but everything to live for
Thoroughbread demand and supply the raw I put my smash down from N.Y. to Chi-Town INC Murder spittin in roundz
You don′t wanna her how it soundz,
When we cock them flames It's
Murda And ain′t shit gon change