Irv Gotti Presents...The Murderers

[Black Child]<br>Uh huh, we did it<br>Motherfucker<br>Somebody gotta do it<br>It gotta get done, why not get it done with the gun?<br>Word to god<br>Yo yo yo<br><br>Chorus: Ja Rule<br><br>Murder`a, inside must be hollow<br>Kill us today or you`ll have to kill us tomorrow<br>Murder`a, inside must be shallow<br>How does it feel to take a life of anotha<br>Murder`a, inside must be hollow<br>Kill us today or you`ll have to kill us tomorrow<br>Murder`a, inside must be shallow<br>How does it feel to take a life...<br><br>[Black Child]<br>It`s murda and its not a game<br>Y`all *Silence* gonna feel the flames and a lotta pain<br>Let me explain from day one its murda one with no gun<br>Taking income, makin bitch niggas run<br>The nine-one-one roll up nigga what<br>We got the four pund tucked, the Porsche look plush<br>Niggas get fuckin clapped and killed for flossin<br>That probly why niggas get killed so often<br>Nothin to live for type a nigga I did a bid for<br>Snitch bitch niggas that ain`t built for war<br>Is it because we ain`t got no love for thugs<br>And slugs for drugs, the worlds most murda`rous<br>Black Child, nigga you know how the fuck I do<br>Put two in you, then puff a blunt at your funeral<br>I might touch yo` click and fuck yo` bitch<br>But`choo never heard a nigga spit shit like this<br><br>Chours<br><br>[Tah Murdah]<br>When I`m gunnin I`m coming on ??? shit rubber grip<br>Four shit on the sawed off, blowin the doors off the Range Rov` shit<br>Fo` sho` this, is somethin` we die for<br>And my murdera`s I lie and fry for<br>Murda man, when the shit hit the fan<br>The plan formulate, for instance, fuck a percentage you need the all the cake<br>Put the four to snakes make `em lay for raw<br>Fuck the game, `cuz nigga I don`t play no more<br>Size `em up, nevermind if you ridin tough<br>Count `em out `til his eyes is puff, despising us<br>I got hungry thugs that`ll tie you up<br>And they ain`t got a problem with, snub nose revolver shit<br>We hard to hit, my mom`s a Crip<br>We thristy niggas that`ll rob ya bitch for the love of the chips<br>So when I`m soaking the whip, y`all niggas keep hatin`<br>Gotta stash where the heats placed in, paper I keep chasin<br>Motherfucker, uh uh<br><br>Chorus<br><br>[Ja Rule]<br>Yo, yo...<br>Forever young this face kills so many all die, nigga must I?<br>Confess my sins, to the souls of the unknown, why?<br>Would you ever disrespect my niggas<br>We murderous engines that lead to lynchin`s<br>Index, itching, ready to run up and hit `em<br>Let the teflon spin `em, they say "look how Ja did `em"<br>I a murder`a , Inc`ed and blood you know you heard of us<br>Murderers juts because we the shhhhhhh<br>Make a nigga much harder to hit with the ox<br>We can take it back, give me five minutes in the box<br>Or trade hot rocks `til one of us drops<br>Nothin but shells and you can hear the shot for blocks<br>I`m giving `em hell, while niggas steady hollerin` "stop"<br>I spit sixteens with aim and continue to pop<br>Motherfuckers, what`choo want with this shit<br>The murderous I-N-C, nigga<br><br>Chorus<br><br>MURDER`A