polat han - murder she wrote lyrics
[verse 1]
okay the issue is with you and me we barely can compete
i’m talkin’ flows straight from the go
that you can’t think of in a week
stay on the road while making songs my only problem droppin’ heat
can’t f+ck the flow up when i pour up gotta keep my piece on me
i’m rocking hermes in leather seats
bird feathers for my b+tch
ignorance and money make me one h+ll of a f+cking beast
pop b it’s berettas when they see me on the f+cking streets
clutching on that pole if you gon’ test me feel that choppa heat
mess around with my gang we get to stepping on yo tomb
i can’t f+ck around with these hoes
’cause they be busy all on my phone
trippin’ off ecstasy with these blue bills i be stacking all on my own
put that chrome right up to ya dome
if you test me you know
[chorus]
i tote big round mags never run up on a bro
whip that thirty on my hip but don’t believe it’s just for show
hit this sig sauer mag sh+t gon’ knock you to the floor
rocking big bl++dy tags ’cause it’s murder all she wrote
i tote big round mags never run up on a bro
whip that thirty on my hip but don’t believe it’s just for show
hit this sig sauer mag sh+t gon’ knock you to the floor
rocking big bl++dy tags ’cause it’s murder all she wrote
[verse 2]
her p+ssy perry ’cause i’m plat in the p+ss’
b+tches salty ’cause i ran up the bucks
makin’ money never work for the gov’
and my diamonds shining bright like they from above
keep a k if you want life in above
brodie try me he get hit with a snuff
i couldn’t f+ck with a lame if you paid me
big bank roll gon’ spend on a lady
spending my time outisde with a amg
racks on me like it’s crack in the eighties
spin around the block hit yo top
get up call the cops, watch you drop
run off body shots got you locked
play my gang you gon’ hear me talk
[chorus]
i tote big round mags never run up on a bro
whip that thirty on my hip but don’t believe it’s just for show
hit this sig sauer mag sh+t gon’ knock you to the floor
rocking big bl++dy tags ’cause it’s murder all she wrote
i tote big round mags never run up on a bro
whip that thirty on my hip but don’t believe it’s just for show
hit this sig sauer mag sh+t gon’ knock you to the floor
rocking big bl++dy tags ’cause it’s murder all she wrote
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