- Quality Control Murda 歌詞
- Quality Control
- Ay, Duke Deuce
What the **** these *****s talkin bout man?
Ay, they got us ****** up
Y-R-N
Money, paper, racks, cash, blue hunnids, guapa-nese
Foreign *******, suckin, ******, got em all, on they knees
All my *****s totin pistols, even with felonies
And they shoot em like a camera, *****, say cheese
I know *****s bangin, Bloods, Crips, and some Gs
And I got them shooters cross the country, overseas
These Percocet 10s got me geekin, feel like Hercules
Its murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda season (What!)
Its murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda season (Murda)
Them young *****s killin, hurtin *****s for no reason (Brrah)
Free my brothers down the road, locked up but still eatin
And theyll still never, ever fold
When they see the judge, aint no pleadin
Its just me and Duke Deuce (Duke Deuce)
We gon beat a ***** ass til he turn black & blue (Boom boom)
See the opps, we gon shoot (Brrah)
All these dead bodies, *****, recognize who was who (Who-who)
Way I ran got em spooked (What)
I came in with the gang, so Ima pull up with the troops (Gang)
And I aint ever gon switch (Nah)
And my ***** wiped your nose, theres no one you can use (*****!)
Murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda (Murda)
These *****s gangsta, poppin **** til we turn em (What?)
Into *******, yes we keep that fire, we gon burn 'em (Brrah)
No, you cant buy them stripes, *****, gotta earn em
Money, paper, racks, cash, blue hunnids, guapa-nese
Foreign **** ***, suckin, ******, got em all, on they knees
All my *****s totin pistols, even with felonies
And they shoot em like a camera, ** ***, say cheese
I know *****s bangin, Bloods, Crips, and some Gs
And I got them shooters cross the country, overseas
These Percocet 10s got me geekin, feel like Hercules
Its murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda season (What!)
1-2-3-4 trappers up in my bando (Up in my bando)
5-6- 7-8 sticks so the ***** better get low (***** better get low)
You think of Duke Deuces, Memphis (Memphis)
Makin easy money and pimpin (Pimpin)
Whole lotta robbin and dealin (And dealin)
Man, everybody here killin (Man, everybody killin)
I heat up and beat up the block
I G up to keep up, to re-up the stock (Re-up the stock)
Look what I am, what youre not
The people, they eat up, cause all my **** hot (My **** hot)
Im out with no fours, my ice is cold
His ice cream rocky road (Rocky road)
Stick to the code, I never fold
I put that on the fours (Diddy)
You can see in a ***** eyes, some hunger (Dont bother me)
***** **** with me they gon hide lil homie
Yeah, my nuts hangin, aint no gangbangin
Why the **** you shootin if you aint aimin?
Goin one-fifty, end up half-capped
With the red seats like a dark angel
Money, paper, racks, cash, blue hunnids, guapa-nese
Foreign *******, suckin, ******, got em all, on they knees
All my *****s totin pistols, even with felonies
And they shoot em like a camera, *****, say cheese
I know ** ***s bangin, Bloods, Crips, and some Gs
And I got them shooters cross the country, overseas
These Percocet 10s got me geekin, feel like Hercules
Its murda, murda, murda, murda , murda, murda season
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