lirik lagu murder one – the heatmakerz, joell ortiz, & fred the godson
[intro]
these tears are no longer for you baby
these tears are no longer for you baby
heatmakers, crack music
[pre-verse: fred the godson]
it’s gordo!
[verse 1: fred the godson]
trey lab with fred, we can turn it beirut
get head in your bed, fingers all in your bae roots (haha)
she wildin’ off, i’m like a shot of that grey goose
don’t care for my eclairs, l1ck a shot at ya grey goose
the illest to ill-strate it
the realest if sk!ll’s debated (that’s true)
still they hated, like, “f-ck your lyricism”
ten forty belows, constructive criticism
gordo, —- joell
go slow, gas blow, oh well
gettin’ that cake, cash and love, gotta go to the scale
on a plate, mask and gloves, i ain’t go to modell’s
fiends in h-ll, stuff went well
before i was workin’ with lil’ puffs like andre harrell
this is for my hood n-ggas waitin’ on a cell
all my n-ggas up north with they weight up in the cell
i’m god
[chorus: method man, joell ortiz & fred the godson]
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, th-th-three, two, murder one lyric at your door
let one of these n-ggas act up and i’ma (murder one)
i wish a n-gga would jump so i could (murder one)
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, th-th-three, two, murder one lyric at your door
let one of these n-ggas act up so i could (murder one)
i wish a n-gga would jump and i’ma (murder one)
[verse 2: joell ortiz]
uh, wait up though
was on that corner on the crate before the wake up show
thirty two back, only cooked twenty eight up though
i ain’t just blow, straight up, i had straight up blow
technos and jojos, no jacob glow
bright goals and fo-fo’s lift your face up, bro
i could tell the kind of stories you can’t make up though
being myself allowed me to f-ck them make-up hoes
you could have this b-tch back, i ain’t gon’ take your hoe
just know if the p-ssy good that we gon’ break up slow
haha, i write hits and buy kicks
fly sh-t and i ain’t never been inside kif
i might be trippin’ but i feel like these n-ggas forgot
let me remind ’em like rewinding the kennedy shot (blagh)
i’m still muhammed with the word vomit
this cash is heavy as clay in my jean pocket
[chorus: method man, joell ortiz & fred the godson]
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, th-th-three, two, murder one lyric at your door
let one of these n-ggas act up and i’ma (murder one)
i wish a n-gga would jump so i could (murder one)
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, th-th-three, two, murder one lyric at your door
let one of these n-ggas act up so i could (murder one)
i wish a n-gga would jump and i’ma (murder one)
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