Murder Man Lyrics - Face Off 2 - Pastor Troy

(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 butt 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 scrappy 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, 

cockin' 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)