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C-Murder
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Camouflage & Murder
作詞:Corey Miller, Donald Jr Robertson
Ay nigga, ain't you Mac What you doing in this motherfucker
Camouflage nigga what, you'll catch me in the cut Fucking shit up for every nigga, the bigger pig the bigger trigger 'Cause my niggaz in the river Stories about the Mac, will make 'em shiver
They prolly at they crib loading they techs Wondering who I'ma smoke next Patrolling they set, Malcolm X nigga The New Orleans Jesus, pack a tre-deuce And you can bring the drama to Zeus If you heard about what that third about
Nigga feel that, that fake shit we 'bout to kill that On the for real black, I never show-boat Be on the low, like a black sto' the Mac flow Sorta like a cracked flo', a different plateau, the Mac show When I attack though, I never turn my back 'cause The bullets, penetrate the back slow
C-Murder, man number 187 Oh you in on murder one Get your shit, boy, you going upstate Fuck the world, bitch
Nigga I'm C, motherfucking Murder never scary But it's very necessary to leave my adversaries buried Crack sales bring bitches in lines but I'm eternal Lethal weapons stay cocked, many niggaz may drop
From the top like flies, I despise you hoes With crooked smiles, make a nigga wanna 'nap your child Niggaz bleed, my enemies fearing attack They move with silence, when nigga bring the violence
更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 Do they know, me and my soldiers tighter than glue We pass bitches and weed, my nigga Mac planting seeds Let the devil tell it, bailing making the scene I whoop the nigga ass in jail, he was a dope fiend
And no collect calls, ghetto pictures on the wall You gotta crawl and fall, before you ball nigga fuck y'all Around the way, my niggaz feel what I'm spitting It's Camouflage and Murder nigga, so pay attention, bitch
Currency, I hope you got currency 'Cause your bail two million dollars, you understand that You lil' rap mother Hold, hold, hold, hold up man I got two million dollars cash, call Stan I'm out this bitch, you heard me
What you gon' do, when you get out of jail Sketch off the scene, in a yellow ML 4-30, Benz truck with four bitches inside Who all about letting a dog and his friends fuck
I'm too large for haters My niggaz smoke bud tote guns, picture they all on paper I'm talking 'bout niggaz like Big, you know who Ceedy, Wayne, Geezy, fuck it the whole crew
Uh, we all roll with nines and 'bout letting 'em fly But I try to stay on the low with mine Catch lil' daddy slipping, point the 4-4 at his spine Leave your body in the forest, where no one can find
And you boys, don't want none of that I know niggaz that look at jail time Like Summer camp holla back Yeah, ya dank
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