The Murderers - текст песни
The Murderers
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 thats 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 thats 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 aint 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
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