Underground Kingz Murder Lyrics

Ridin' Dirty Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Intro
  • 2 One Day
  • 3 Murder
  • 4 Pinky Ring
  • 5 Diamonds & Wood
  • 6 3 in the Mornin'
  • 7 Touched
  • 8 Fuck My Car
  • 9 That's Why I Carry
  • 10 Hi Life
  • 11 Good Stuff
  • 12 Ridin' Dirty
  • 13 Outro
  • [Verse 1: Pimp C]
    I'm still Pimp C bitch so what the fuck is up?
    I'm puttin' powder on the streets cause I got
    Big fuckin' nut's comin' back from Louisiana
    In a Fleetwood Lac < I just served them nigga's shit to put them feinds on they back
    Got the pound goin for four cause you know I just
    Pay two nigga bought thirty from me
    So I fronted forty two, he gonna pop to seven hundred
    Times sixty two, twenty four eight is what I do
    So nigga fuck what 'cha do
    If I told ya cocaine number's you think I was lyin'
    Young ass nigga's twenty two talkin' bout they retirin'
    In the game ain't a thang comin' forgien in benz
    Rick ass home two apartment's where I entertain
    Friends mo bounce to the ounce
    Cause the bomb the shit, I done got me
    Fifty ounces out of a bird in dis bitch
    Tightin' up no slackin bitches checkin' my stock
    Got some Birds I sell to niggas some I go rock for rock
    Just got back from California kicked it with B-Legit
    Put me down with purple chronic and that hurricane shit
    At the studio with Tone, man I wish I could stay
    I got to holla at Master P, cause we got money to make
    Were big playa'z from the South stack gee'z man
    Like Ball I got to stack big cheeze man
    Bitch say he wanna show ya
    You got nine grand I ain't rappin' shit
    Till my money in my hand
    South Texas mutherfucka that's where I stay
    Gettin' money from yo bitches every
    Got damn day
    Big paper I'm foldin'
    Hoes is on my mutherfuckin' jock
    For all this dick I be holdin'
    I hate clone man show it
    Especially if a fool take our style and
    Act like my nigga's don't know it
    I kick it with the trill nigga's so you best's
    Not trip if ya keep on talkin' shit
    My nigga empty clips
    Hoe azz nigga

    [Chorus:]
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

    [Verse 2: Bun-B]
    Well this Bun-B bitch and I'm the king
    I'm movin' chickens got 'em finger lickin'
    Stickin' nigga's dat be trippin'
    You need a swift kickin' yo azz is right for the pickin'
    Now as my pocket's thicken
    I be thinkin' nigga's slippin' you sick
    When I be clickin' now take a look at the
    Bigger nigga Malt liquor swigger
    Playa hata ditch digger figure
    My hair trigger give a hot one in yo liver
    You shiver shake and quiver
    I'm frivoulous of a nigga you wetter den a river
    For what it's worth it's the purpose some nigga's doin' dirt
    Fuck her first now take off her skirt
    Make the pussy hurt Mister Master
    Hit the Swisha faster then fever bilstar
    Blister bastard fuck her sister faster
    Peep the Elbows for sale yo
    Brother better have my mail hoe
    Before I catch a murder case and go to jail oh
    Hell no, time to bail hit the trail so
    We can sell mo fuckin' yayo get the scale
    No other bullet duckers can sove up
    Out of this game they better buck us
    Cause the clucker's they love us
    Make them class dick suckers
    Shake they jelly like smucker's
    I hit like nun-chuckers
    Cause Short Texas bring the ruckus
    This for my mufuckas
    Cookin' cheese to crooked geez
    Rockin' up quarter key's
    Just to get the hook with ease
    Wanna bee's get on yo knee's
    Feel the squeeze from them HK one three's
    From here to over sea's
    We do what we please
    Don't trip cause we flip
    Light up a dip
    I'm breakin' 'em off from they hip to yo lip
    Go ask that boy Skip
    That nigga Bun rip
    With one clip, soon as the gun slip
    Now I done ripped out my barrette
    Flyin' through yo pelle pelle and
    Some smelly red jelly is drippin' out of ya belly
    Servin' 'em up like a Deli jumped on my cellular telly
    Hoe sell it like it's goin' out of style
    You can't see me Marcus so have a
    Motherfuckin' Sweet and smile.

    [Chorus:]
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder
    Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder

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