: XL I'm Know they see me coming I'm A baller Just cuz I got money they wanna lock me up tonight [Verse One: C-Murder] I Know you see me coming I just
and Nick Cause I spit as if I had a dick This rap shit I done mastered it, 8-ball assassin chick Wanna give it to me but they know I'm not havin' it [
t nothin' but a ho, and of course I hope you get smoked. I put a gauge to your throat And it is murder Bizz wrote See, I'm unloadin' while you're foldin
anna but I'm a be making 'em holler Cause I'm a kedavers when I'm attackin the beat I'm a scholar cause I'm a personification of god, So you better honor
blast And totally surpass the norm Not a storm, plural, make it, many storms When I'm vexed, I fly leg necks and arms In this dimension, I'm the presenter
world probes, I arrest verse I.N.C. I'm still wishing y'all the R.I.P. Can I Live, for I D.I.E. I'm talkin', M.O.B, murder inc bosses Count your losses
be steady screamin'.. (Fuck you!) {Vita} It's murda murda.. you know it's murda murda We live it.. we breathe it.. we screamin' murda murda murda {Ja Rule} Murder
fly And bring ya sex-in me I feel right Ex-ta-sy I'm whirrin high When ya sex-in me i feel right Ex-ta-sy I'm gonna fly And when ya sex-in me i feel right
bright, I rip through mics plus I push more powder than Crystal Light Chick mad, said I hold my pistol too tight Get a grip bitch, this how I get through
help Wasn't around when I couldn't feed myself Dawg, if I was you I wouldn't feel myself Dawg, if I was you I'd kill myself [HOOK - Kanye West (Singing
Livin like a baller loc Havin money, and blowin hella chronic smoke I bought my momma a Benz, and bought my Boo-Boo a Jag And now I'm rollin in a nine
Livin like a baller loc I'm havin money, and blowin hella chronic smoke I bought my momma a Benz, my Boo-Boo a Jag And now I'm rollin in a nine-trizzay
Angry as a battery Back in the funk 'Cuz I'm not frontin' Commin' upon the stage I'll say ya somethin' Clear as a project The style is hectic Guess I'm left with A system sceptic The truths I'm droppin' From the pulpit I'm
expressing them, but you're messing them up Your bummy rhymes, I'm dressing them up for the battle win, like a snake I'm rattlin The red ball with the
Mur, Murder Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder [Verse Two: Bun-B] Well this Bun-B bitch and I'm the king I'm
to the climb, back to drop, vertical limit [U-God] Yeah, ball playin' girl lane, on the mic I'm rhyme sprayin' M.C. rock viciously, satisfaction guaranteed
and ya don't stop... People always ask why I act this way I say: cause I'm a villain like my homeboy Ray A straight lunatic, a little skitzo A male hoe, a