Текст песни The Murderers f D. Bing, B. Child, R. Bu - Crime Scene, слова песни The Murderers f D. Bing, B. Child, R. Bu

Текст песни The Murderers f D. Bing, B. Child, R. Bu - Crime Scene

The Murderers f D. Bing, B. Child, R. Bu - Crime Scene слова песни

[Dave Bing]The fuck is wrong with y`all niggazYou think this shit is a game niggaLike it ain`t about murder and cocaine niggaThe fuck is wrong wit y`allIt`s Murder Inc niggaWith some Dave Bing shitStop gettin it fucked upYeah[Dave Bing]Yo the first dollar for meI admit it the block did itMurder came with itNice cars and dime bitchesHangin out lateNicknamed the milk-crateBut on a bad note came jail time and jam ninesCan you feel the rhyme, feel a thug trying to shineOn the grind, you better keep your ass in lineCuz from the get-get-go nigga, say it ain`t so niggaYou was watchin me through your window niggaDoing crimes, selling twenties for dimesMiddle finger in the air screamin fuck one timeAs you peep out, don`t got the balls to speak outScary reach out, scream murder and pull the glock outCock it back, then tell your crew to relaxTake a deep breath, now take six to the chestTen to the neck, just incase you wearin a vestAnd thats the whole sixteen coppin in safeen[Tah Murdah]Motherfucker when you see TahBet I`m holdin a fifth and a full clipAt any given moment to flip on some bullshitSpit it sick, flowin like alienAnd I`m way beyond flashinSo if you see crumbs nigga, get to dashinI mastered the game, accurate aimPut two in youSlappin your dame, jump back in the RangeFor this hover doughRapidly gunnin the floor like a calicoLet it rip, reload, and spit a hundred moreGive you a reason to run, oh, you gung-hoI hope y`all niggaz really ready cuz my steel is heavyAnd feel no petty for those stuffed in a boxNigga peep it and watch, how the sun glisten on rocksI pissed on the blocks and hustle for scrapsBut now I`m on some click-clack Keep your eyes on the cash, gimme thatWhere they at, y`all niggaz want itWe right here, let me make myself clearNigga we can`t be touchedThe fuck y`all want[Ronnie Bumps]From rob men that rob grown menAnd be the one hustlin til the one come inThe worst niggaz cock back, and spit for ginTil the day we win niggaz is gonna fall from wood hallThugs who seen it all, this is warThe streets ain`t the same no moreNiggaz came to keep the roar but ??? on the floorLet`s explore, whoevers quick on the draw is the lawThe fuck you set these rules forIt`s the streetsMy code is the heat plus we all gotta eatTake a seat, and watch the streets get runned by thugsNow stand up, and watch my hustlin niggaz rush the clubAutomatic love, fingerprints, clubs b, 38 snubbMotherfucker, do you know me?Ronnie Bump with a four-five that won`t leave you lonelyMy slugs will be your homeys Pop the glock and make you know me[Black Child]I was only fourteen doin my thing Gettin cream in Jamaica QueensNiggaz scheme for they dreamsCome clean, if not, you gots to get shotGive me the ooh-op, and let me hold down the blockFuck cops, I pump crack rocks on back blocksLace shots, at them snitch niggaz, snap boxBlack Child couldn`t go play with the childrenCuz I was too buisy pumpin up them jums in the buildinWhile most kids went to school to maintainI was in the spot cookin up cocaineThe game got me, at eighteen I got sloppyCaught a body and shot up his house partyTime to relocate, I better transport my weightPick up all my papes and bounce out of stateCatch me in Virginia I ain`t gonna never surrenderUnless I`m dead or injured and thats somethin to rememeber nigga[O1]Yo it ain`t nuthin but murder oneNiggaz holdin they guns and bustin emMy niggaz foul son we spray up the blockAnd leave bystanders numb and braindumbNiggaz heard the shots but where they commin fromI squeezed off and hit his bitch up, my aim`s offBut fuck it, nigga rob the block for twelve hundredSo I came off, if it`s murder you want it`s murder I giveMakin it harder for niggaz to live for you and your kidsNo question, murder perfection dogI`m runnin through you and into the Lord I never prayed forGod knows I`m layin for him bustin at the skyMy aim`s on him, my man Kurt died the blames on himYou better believe him, killin niggaz dead for this dreamBy any means I`m deadin your team, destroyin your dreamsNow hows bout this nigga O goin all out for the dough Yo I show out, fuck around and get blowed outUgh

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The Murderers f D. Bing, B. Child, R. Bu

Crime Scene

Текст песни The Murderers f D. Bing, B. Child, R. Bu - Crime Scene

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