ja rule – it’s murda (freestyle) lyrics
[intro: ja rule]
it’s murda (ha-ha-ha)
it’s murda
we back up in this motherf-cker!
it’s murda
y’all know who we be
(yeah, ayo don’t let me catch you runnin’ from the back of bet either, n-gga)
r.u.l.e. i.n.c.
my n-gga fatal on the m-th-rf-ckin’ ones and twos
holla back, you b-tch -ss n-ggas
[verse 1: ja rule]
yo, c-ck sucka’, i get squat and post and c-cked tha nina’
in tha five series beamer, dump and lean ya
i fell off on a misdemeanor, ride red over black madina’s
take crazy for g*nius, hated like jesus christ
my weakness have always been bad b-tches
and new bills with krisis’, my thesis more than extraordinary
and that n-gga that got shot nine times can tell ya that i don’t give a f-ck
i don’t give a f-ck, nicolas cage may i ask yo’ permission to take his life
this is a man be “i” n-c to r-u-l-e extraordinary, one for the ages
when then sawed off with the front of them gauges
to engage in combat
to send you and ‘fem’ where yo moms at
motherf-cka you hear that
and i ain’t talkin about them heaven from skies
i’m talkin’ about them fire from nines
or maybe the fifty cal. cause you like five-oh
or maybe somewhere in cal where you like to lay low
you b-tch made, and i heard about that b-tch
you be slayin layin up with, some where off of sunset
y’all haven’t heard yet that n-gga change is loose
and i got proof, get it? “i got proof”
yo vest is no use when we c-ck and flame
it’s murda, (yeah) murda incorporated (ha ha)
[verse 2: hussein fatal]
it’s murda (yeah)
hussein fatal n-gga (it’s murda)
m-th-f-ckas…
rule’ these n-ggas crazy, reppin’ him without me
“a.i” ain’t in tha cl!ck, believe they won’t win without me
yo, i’m small lil’ homies, frail but bold
went from base to some bullsh-t like “jalen rose”
got my blind d-o-g’s readin’ brail and coats
keep tha heat in tha winter i can’t tell it’s cold
clean my set, pieced out flame the tec
throw shots out n-ggas catch like “wayne cherbet”
son of a gangsta, talk dirty son i’m a bang ya
i’m tha truth with tha ox, keep gum on tha banger
hussein, the only reason hoes chase tha thugs
n-gga blade part two i got tha taste for blood
log on fatal.com, see fatal drop bombs
more militant minded then y’all faded with ‘pac rhymes
clucthing tha stick beam, suckin’ tha stick green
out tha window or tha sunroof, buckin’ tha sixteen
you ain’t a gangsta ’em’, this is gangsta sh-t
and “50” you ain’t nuthin’ but a gangsta b-tch
“pac'” would have never did no song with no w-nksta snitch
he confusin’ ya’ll he ain’t tha sh-t
we s-x, money and murda you n-ggas
ain’t no playin’ around with this rap sh-t
banana clip, mack’s spit bodies rap up in plastic
this tha city where tha skinny n-ggas die (no)
you heard my dogs this is tha city where tha skinny n-ggas ride n-gga…
[outro: hussein fatal]
plaaattt… hussein tha don
believe we got this sh-t poppin’ in this m-th-f-cka
rule’ it’s good…
and we into tha m-th-f-ckin’ club you punk n-ggas walkin out
brick city, rule, rap- alot- mafia! murda!
yound d’, merc, exsaless
these n-ggas ain’t ready for this gansta sh-t right here
we been doing this sh-t for a long time
ya’ll n-ggas got the streets confused n-gga
we been on this gansta thug sh-t
b-tch -ss n-ggas you know what it is
every time we touch tha m-th-f-ckin booth n-gga
it’s gonna be fire, fire on you n-ggas -sses
n-ggas better gracefully bow tha f-ck out n-gga
hussein fatal’ n-gga, rap-alot-mafia, n-gga
m.i.b n-gga, murder inc bosses
rule’ we here baby, brick city jerses mafia
yeah…shadow…let’s get it…
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