Текст Roy Woods – Murda

I got Xans in my Xans and Clonazepam
What you need nigga, I be whippin’ up them grams
Hear that door knock, gotta keep that gun in hand
I be lookin’ through that peep hole, wait! I don’t know that man

Hol’ up… wait… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
It’s murda, it’s murda
Hol’ up… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
It’s murda, it’s murda
Wait… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
Hol’ up… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!

Sha Hustle:
I ain’t got time here to waste
I ain’t got time here to waste
One bitches pussy, it ain’t worth nothin’
So I fuck these hoes in the face
Heard these niggas got problems
Tell ’em pick a time and a place
You know here’s where I stay
OVO reps up, and yeah I’m from the way
Hangin’ with trappers and killas
Don’t touch me, my partner will kill ya
I keep it concealed
Bad bitches fuck me cause I’m a drug dealer
And I fuck with the realest
Stop lyin’, you ain’t ridin’ for your man
You ain’t squeezin’ shit like you got Arthritis here in your hand
Sittin’ at the table makin’ million dollar plans
Stackin’, I’ll be stackin’ til I bust rubber bands

I got Xans in my Xans and Clonazepam
What you need nigga, I be whippin’ up them grams

Hol’ up… wait… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
It’s murda, it’s murda
Hol’ up… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
It’s murda, it’s murda
Wait… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
Hol’ up… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!

Dej Loaf:
Murda she wrote, that’s murda you quote
Shot to the head, give me Henny to go
I got some shooters that’s ready to scope
So if a nigga try me, then y’all gotta go
Sit down, I can’t stand you
In the water, but my niggas off xan juice
This that shit that make the fans move
When you gettin’ money, hell yeah they gonna fan you
Yeah they gonna spam you, I don’t give a fuck though
All my niggas cutthroat, knockin’ at your front door
Get a nigga goin’ in that all white wardrobe
We don’t mob in black shit, nigga get his cap peeled, yeah
Uh huh, that’s how I roll
Act up, we gon’ take your role
We all gettin’ money, all throw up four’s
We all in these coupes, no four-by-four’s

I got Xans in my Xans and Clonazepam
What you need nigga, I be whippin’ up them grams
Here that door knock, gotta keep that gun in hand
I be lookin’ through that peep hole, wait! I don’t know that man

Hol’ up… wait… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
It’s murda, it’s murda
Hol’ up… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
It’s murda, it’s murda
Wait… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!
Hol’ up… Who that? Bap bap bap bap!

Shots in the South
You need to get out of this place, girl
You know what they bout
Ooh, we don’t give a fuck, shakiness they face
Run up on a nigga, take it all
If he gun ’em down, send them shots right back
Ooh, let your pockets explode, out the bands I’ll be right back
Fuck ’em all, fuck ’em all
You been fuckin’ with them niggas while you gone
Yeah, oh you fuckin’ with a nigga like that
You fuckin’ with a nigga like that