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pastor troy - murder man lyrics

(pastor troy)
ooh, ooh, ooh
yeah, this for da clones in the atl,
with them fake a– chains,
for all the flexy a– ni–az comin’ outta atlanta,
verse 1
iiiii’m comin, 2 50 cal’s in hand,
long goatee’s ni–a da taliban,
i’ll murda man, i’m tryin to murk somethin,
this aint no chuck e cheese,
i’m tryin to hurt somethin’,
these ni–az claimin g’s, claimin’ they run the south, please.
how you run this sh– in them b-tt fu– caprice,
atleast you outta know bout’ my thrown,
the p the t the r the o the y,
ni–a i’m so fly call me jet,
jump off in the ocean still aint wet,
i flex i mothafu–in ball betta ax em,
catch a ni–a talkin sh–,
motherfu–in blast em,
murda, m – u – r – d – a,
i’m pumpin gats at whoever in the way,
i got the gunplay, don’t think they understand,
don’t think they wanna fu– with the murda man.
chorus
i don’t think they wanna fu– with the murda man, fu– with the murda man
fu– with the murda man
(well ah haaaa) (x 4)
verse 2
yaaaaa’ll trippin’,
not everybody crunk,
yall’ ni–az gonna make me pop tha trunk,
cause i remember way back in the day, when the atl was’nt gettin no play,
then i came out, drop, we ready,
ni–az went to bouncin’,
ridin’ dem box chevys,
but i guess that was then,
this is now… when i catch ya a– in the street, the guns plow,
i represent the heart,
i represent the anger,
i represent the real,
i represent the danger,
i represent the cars,
i represent the dream,
i represent repect,
i’m representin my team,
it’s pistol pt, aka the murda man,
ya pistol’s in ya car,
my pistol’s in my hand,
and you can ask jan,
i shot a ni–a ran,
don’t think you understand, i’m the fu–in’ murda man(haaaa)
chours(x 4)

verse 3
stiiiiiill spinnin’,
empty my magazine,
i jump off in my limozine, and fleet the scene,
this aint the swat team,
this aint’ lil scr-ppy and them,
i love that hard sh–,
and fu– a platinum,
and lil jon’, used to be my homie, used to be my ace,
now i wanna slap tha taste, out yo mouth,
ni–a down south i’m a legend,
when u see me, keep mothafu–in’ steppin,
they flexin… so what u got a a(atl) hat ni–a?
that don’t mean sh–,
to a southside killa,
what’s up shay, what’s up toadd,
on that air, shady park,
murda, m – u – r – d – a,
i’m bustin’ shots at whoever in my way,
c-ckin’ my a.k.,
don’t think they understand. but i don’t think they wanna fu– with the murda man(haaaa)
chorus(x 4)
(well ah haaaa)

- pastor troy lyrics

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