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Murder Lyrics - Ridin' Dirty - Ugk

[Verse One: Pimp C] 

 

I'm still Pimp C bitch so what the fuck is up? 

I'm puttin' powder on the streets cuz I got 

Big fuckin' nut's comin' back from Louisiana 

In a Fleetwood Lana 

I deserve them nigga's shit to put they pea's on they banner 

Got the pound four by four cuz you know I just 

Pay to nigga bought thirty from me 

So I fronted forty two, he gonna pop to seven hundred 

Times sixty two, twenty four eight is what I do 

So fuck what 'cha do 

If I told ya cocaine number's you think I was lyin' 

Young nigga's twenty two talkin' bout they retirin' 

In the game ain't a thang comin' far then we been 

Rick's home two apartment's where enter 

Tight friends mo bounce to the ounce 

Cuz the Wood the shit, I done got me 

Fifty ounces out of birds ya bitch 

Tightin' up no slack bitches checkin' my stock 

Got some Burban City nigga's so I'm a go to my garage 

Just got back from California kicked it with B-Legit 

Put me down with purple chronic and that hurricane shit 

At the studio with Tom, I wish I could stay 

I got to holla at Master P, cuz we got money to make 

We with playa'z from the South stack gee'z man 

Like Ball I got to stack big cheeze man 

Bitch say he wanna show ya 

You got nine grand I ain't rappin' shit 

Till my money in my hand 

South Texas mutherfucka that's where I stay 

Gettin' money from yo bitches every 

Got damn day 

Big paper I'm foldin' 

Hoes is on my mutherfuckin' jock 

For all this dick I be holdin' 

I hate grown man show it 

Especially if a fool take our style and 

Act like my nigga's don't know it 

I kick it with the trill nigga's so you best's 

Not trip if ya keep on talkin' shit 

My nigga empty the clip 

Hoe azz nigga 

 

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[Chorus:] 

 

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder 

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder 

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder 

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder 

Murder, Mur, Mur, Murder 

 

[Verse Two: Bun-B] 

 

Photos 

 

Well this Bun-B bitch and I'm the king 

I'm movin' chickens got 'em finger lickin' 

Stickin' nigga's who be trippin' 

You need a swift kickin' yo azz is right for the pickin' 

Now down as my pocket's stickin' 

I be thinkin' nigga's slippin' you sick 

When I be clickin' now take a look at the 

Bigger nigga Marl liquor swigger 

Playa hata ditch digger figure 

My hair trigger you bound one hot one in yo liver 

You shiver shake and quiver 

I'm free from nigga you wetter den a river 

For what it's worth it's suburblous some nigga's doin' dirt 

Fuck her first and take off her skirt 

Make the pussy hurt Mister Master 

Hit the Swisha faster then you keep a 

Blister bastard fuck her sister faster 

Hit the elbro for sale yo 

Brother better have my mail hoe 

Before I catch a murder case and go to jail hoe 

Hell no, time to bail hit the trail so 

We can sell mo fuckin' yell get the scale 

No other bullet duck or get shoved 

Inside this game they better buck us 

Cuz the clucker's they love us 

Make them class dick suckers 

Check they jelly like smoker's 

I hit like nun-chuckers 

Cuz Short Texas bring the rukus 

This for my muthfucker's 

Cookin' cheese to crooked geez 

Rockin' up quarter key's 

Just to get the hook with ease 

Wanna bee's get on yo knee's 

Fill the squeeze from them HK one three's 

>From here to over sea's 

We do what we please 

No trip cuz we flip 

Light up a dip 

I'm breakin' 'em off from they hip to yo lip 

Go ask that boy Skip 

That nigga Bun rip 

With one clip, soon as the gun slip 

Now I done ripped out my Barile 

Flyin' through yo belly belly and 

Some smelly red jelly is drippin' out of ya belly 

Servin' 'em like a Deli jumped on my cellular telli 

Hoe sell it like it's goin' out of style 

You can't see me Marcus so have a 

Motherfuckin' Sweet and smile 

 

[Chorus] 

Writer:

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