Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sound


Interface


Difficulty level


Accent



interface language

en

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie policy   |   Support   |   FAQ
1
register / login
Lyrkit

donate

5$

Lyrkit

donate

10$

Lyrkit

donate

20$

Lyrkit

And/Or support me in social. networks:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Mac Dre

Murda I Wrote

 

Murda I Wrote

(album: Da U.S. Open - 2005)


[Mac Dre:]
Ha, ha ha, come on
Ha ha ha ha, ya
I'm retchy, I'm retchy, boy
Let's do it, follow me now
Let's do it, follow me now, ha ha
We got the boy, the boy Thizzy Marley in the building
Listen, listen

Yeah, man, we be jamming
Come through in the old school slamming
In my trunk, is a cannon
If it's funk I leave no man standing
Stalk the streets of the 'sco like Reggie Hammond
Go strong to the hole like Ed O'Bannon
Hennessy with the lemon, just me and some women
Big butts stretch the fuck out they jeans and they denim
I always get my macking on; yes, I keep it cracking, holmes
When it's funk, I'm cracking domes; black up then I'm smashing home

[Rydah J. Klyde:]
Yo, yo, they say they love you 'cause they feel you, yo
Or maybe 'cause they hear my record on the radio
Yo, yo, but if they ever tried to play me though
I stop the music, grab my tool and let it go
Oh no, this ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote

[J. Diggs:]
These bloodclaat niggas smoke weed in a cigar
Always on the road, keep what I need off in me cizar
Me send you off in E.R., you retched little moist cunt
Fuck you off nice over ice and smoke another blunt
Y'all know me, rude boy, I do it, boy
Especially on that fluid, guaranteed to fuck your mood, boy
Smith & Wess' mag, in there in the E-Class
Every time you see me you see three bad beetchas
Got connections with the coke and smoke and grow weed
Got two old schools and they both on gold D's
That's the truth for real, player, know what hoes need
Leave bloodclaats leaking like a fucking nose bleed

[Rydah J. Klyde:]
Yo, yo, they say they love you 'cause they feel you, yo
Or maybe 'cause they hear my record on the radio
Yo, yo, but if they ever tried to play me though
I stop the music, grab my tool and let it go
Oh no, this ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote

[Mac Mall:]
Selectah, one more time
Informer speak on Mister Mallennium, it's gonna be murder, oh oy
The Don Dada familiar with fully choppas off ya and then we get further, D-boys
Crooked cop, bad mens, low lifes and ruffians
If I hold the rocket launcher like Crestside is Pakistan, boy
One love for nobody, me got cuddies, fuck a friend
And fuck a bitch, I kick her in the ass with Size 12 Timberlands
Understand, like King Kong when me lay down me Mac cannon
And at the rate my mafia going, might see me on CNN
For putting fire on poor Babylon, don't let no devils win
And don't let no suckers play me, fully kill you where you stand

[Rydah J. Klyde:]
Yo, yo, they say they love you 'cause they feel you, yo
Or maybe 'cause they hear my record on the radio
Yo, yo, but if they ever tried to play me though
I stop the music, grab my tool and let it go
Oh no, this ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote

done

Did you add all the unfamiliar words from this song?