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murda mook - i'm nice lyrics

[intro: ron browz]
yeah, yeah

[chorus: ron browz]
oh, yeah, i’m nice, n-gga
yeah, yeah, i’m nice, n-gga
oh, yeah, i’m nice, n-gga
yeah, yeah, i’m nice, n-gga
oh, yeah, i’m nice, n-gga
yeah, yeah, i’m nice, n-gga
you don’t think so?
i think your b-tch think so

[verse 1: raekwon]
i need three days to f-ck paris, to gun and to do much carrots
pablo strength, i blow up a dutch palace
and flex on these jays with waves on
my swades is amazing, i’m holdin’ them k’s up in barclays
test this face like bronson
burner in your mouth, get kicked in ya johnson, meet jaeson
[?] strength [?]
big 4.5 on me [?], yeah
jump outta character, get ran on, i’m usain bolt
weird lightning bolts fly out the candle y’all
meet me at the spot all messiahs
[?] real, no liars, i hate thieves
i make [?] also
blow up your torso, chop fingers, chew you like dog bones
biscuit -ss p-ssy [?]
talk, you’re a p-ssy in my book, yo

[verse 2: murda mook]
tuckered out the ot, then i came here to cut you out
found a couple pieces, told them to figure the puzzle out
it was all a dream, then i put the duffle out
gave ’em a ball of green, that’s what i call a brussel out
what the f-ck you ’bout? nothing i’m the toughest mother f-cka
comin’ up this route, i’m buggin’, put your knuckles out
and i can show you better than i can tell you
now’days i’m landing on fans like miguel do
i put it all on the bread, that’s [?] n-gga
open up your chest like i’m lookin’ for some treasure n-gga
i’mma let you ride but keep your sh-t together n-gga
now don’t touch the radio or dirty up my leather n-gga
got respect for el and chef, both are dear to me
all y’all other rap n-ggas scared of me
they said don’t f-ck with battle cause they wouldn’t blow
now i just got more than you got paid for a show, wow

[verse 3: ll cool j]
i’mma bad ma’f-cka, rush n-ggas: chris tucker
more harder than the ruckus, make your b-tch lips pucker
baby boy against god, these bars is boxcutters
tiger with the putter’s sl1ck, t-t-t-talk a stutter
when i’m bustin’ out the magnum i ain’t talkin’ ’bout the rubbers
when i’m tuckin’ these lames i ain’t talkin’ ’bout covers
i divorced the game and remarried the ma’f-cka
sh-t i’m c-mming on myself, who wanna be my baby mother?
pause, giant andre, y’all b-tches fiancé
ll cool ain’t n0body beyond jay
red dots on heads, it’s queens and not bombay
get a angle on you, leave your forehead concave
three decades gettin’ the bricks shaved
gettin’ their whips paid, you [?] switchblade
rambo to your jugular, f-ckin’ baloney smugglers
n0body’s f-cking with me, tell the morgue come and get me

- murda mook lyrics

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