Camouflage & Murder

歌詞

(*talking*) Ay nigga, ain't you Mac What you doing in this motherfucker [Mac] 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 3rd 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 (*talking*) C-Murder (what nigga), man number 187 (what's hap'n), oh you in on murder one (fucking right), get your shit boy you going upstate (fuck the world bitch) [C-Murder] 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 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 (*talking*) Curren$y, I hope you got currency Cause your bail two million dollars, you understand that You lil' rap mother-(hol-hol'-hol'-hol' up man I got two million dollars cash, call Stan I'm out this bitch, you heard me) [Curren$y] What you gon do, when you get out of jail Skerch 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 (*talking*) Yeah ya dank, ha-ha-ha