lirik lagu pastor troy - murder man
(pastor troy)
ooh, ooh, ooh
yeah, this for da clones in the atl,
with them fake a– chains,
for all the flexy a– ni–az comin’ outta atlanta,
verse 1
iiiii’m comin, 2 50 cal’s in hand,
long goatee’s ni–a da taliban,
i’ll murda man, i’m tryin to murk somethin,
this aint no chuck e cheese,
i’m tryin to hurt somethin’,
these ni–az claimin g’s, claimin’ they run the south, please.
how you run this sh– in them b-tt fu– caprice,
atleast you outta know bout’ my thrown,
the p the t the r the o the y,
ni–a i’m so fly call me jet,
jump off in the ocean still aint wet,
i flex i mothafu–in ball betta ax em,
catch a ni–a talkin sh–,
motherfu–in blast em,
murda, m – u – r – d – a,
i’m pumpin gats at whoever in the way,
i got the gunplay, don’t think they understand,
don’t think they wanna fu– with the murda man.
chorus
i don’t think they wanna fu– with the murda man, fu– with the murda man
fu– with the murda man
(well ah haaaa) (x 4)
verse 2
yaaaaa’ll trippin’,
not everybody crunk,
yall’ ni–az gonna make me pop tha trunk,
cause i remember way back in the day, when the atl was’nt gettin no play,
then i came out, drop, we ready,
ni–az went to bouncin’,
ridin’ dem box chevys,
but i guess that was then,
this is now… when i catch ya a– in the street, the guns plow,
i represent the heart,
i represent the anger,
i represent the real,
i represent the danger,
i represent the cars,
i represent the dream,
i represent repect,
i’m representin my team,
it’s pistol pt, aka the murda man,
ya pistol’s in ya car,
my pistol’s in my hand,
and you can ask jan,
i shot a ni–a ran,
don’t think you understand, i’m the fu–in’ murda man(haaaa)
chours(x 4)
verse 3
stiiiiiill spinnin’,
empty my magazine,
i jump off in my limozine, and fleet the scene,
this aint the swat team,
this aint’ lil scr-ppy and them,
i love that hard sh–,
and fu– a platinum,
and lil jon’, used to be my homie, used to be my ace,
now i wanna slap tha taste, out yo mouth,
ni–a down south i’m a legend,
when u see me, keep mothafu–in’ steppin,
they flexin… so what u got a a(atl) hat ni–a?
that don’t mean sh–,
to a southside killa,
what’s up shay, what’s up toadd,
on that air, shady park,
murda, m – u – r – d – a,
i’m bustin’ shots at whoever in my way,
c-ckin’ my a.k.,
don’t think they understand. but i don’t think they wanna fu– with the murda man(haaaa)
chorus(x 4)
(well ah haaaa)
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