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paris (rap) - record label murder lyrics

[paris:]
now what would you do, if i blast
all up in yo’ sh-t, motherf-ck the whole staff
n-ggas know i flow, nine millimeter sh-ttin slugs
i’m seein bl–dy bodies on the motherf-ckin rug
six o’clock be the time if it’s on let it be
you see it in my eyes, ridin through, h-lla deep
see, b-tch you ain’t gon’ do me like you did da lench mob
i’m decorated in this game, i played too motherf-ckin long
now – i ain’t gotta name n0body name
all i’m knowin is the whole f-ckin roster is complainin
talkin bout these white boys tryin to do promotion
and white b-tches tryin to get f-cked by these soldiers
talkin with that slang like you down but now hold on
see now that’s enough to get yo’ devil–ss stole on
f-ckin with the wrong n-gga, playin with my cash
i’m known for puttin devils on they motherf-ckin back
blast through the front do’, what the f-ck i’m ‘posed to talk?
f-ck court, i’ll be a dead n-gga ‘fore you walk
brownout at nine, had no motherf-ckin mercy
so who the s-xy n-gga, b-tch record label murder

[chorus:]
(n-gga label murder) now we fin’ to start some sh-t
(that n-gga fin’ to start) motherf-ckers shoulda quit
(better have a n-gga money) out for each and every dime
seem like everytime i turn around
some janky motherf-cker tryin to take what’s mine
(n-gga label murder) got the whole f-ckin cl!ck
(that n-gga fin’ to start) now we fin’ to start some sh-t
(better have a n-gga money) got these n-ggas out the zoo for the job
bow down, motherf-cker you can die when we start robbin

[paris:]
so many times i seen these n-ggas f-cked up out they chips
’cause they didn’t know the game, only makin 10 percent
dealin with these f-ckin jews, now you losin everytime
how many platinum n-ggas standin in the county line
make you wanna get your brick and sn-tch his -ss up out the car
baby renegotiate, f-ckin with them scars
now you askin who i’m talkin bout, homey you can pick
this whole industry got n-gga sh-t on whitey d-ck
and then since i’m a soldier known to speak my f-ckin mind
i’ma put you up on game, everytime i start to rhyme
f-ck that devil get yo’ own man, learn about some sh-t
or be another broke n-gga, tellin what he did
and now i think you know, that i really gives a f-ck
fear no evil ’cause i’m god, let that devil try his luck
last man standin up, for the truth, say you heard it
these players gettin played homey, record label murder

[chorus]

- paris rap lyrics

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