UGK - Murder lyrics

Fuck this motherfucker, he just got love
You know what I mean?
Because we got to get out here
Ain't no place here for us
You know what I mean? But that motherfucker
I need to kill him that's all

Murder (Huh) , mur
Murder (Talkin' 'bout a murder) , mur
Murder (Huh) , mur mur murder (Check it out)

I'm still Pimp C, bitch
So what the fuck is up?
Puttin' powder on the streets 'cause
I got big fuckin' nuts
Comin' back from Louisiana in
A Fleetwood 'Lac
I just served them niggas some shit to
Put they fiends on they back
Got the pounds going for four 'cause
You know I just paid two
Nigga bought thirty from me
So I fronted forty-two
He gon' pop for seven hundred times sixty-two
Twenty-four eight is what I get, so nigga
Fuck what you do
If I told ya cocaine numbers
You would think I was lyin'
Young-ass niggas, twenty-two
Is talkin' 'bout they retirin'
In the game, ain't a thang
Comin' foreign with Benz brick-ass home
Two apartments where I entertain friends
More bounce to the ounce 'cause
The Brougham the shit
I done got me fifty ounces out
A bird in this bitch tighten up, no slack
Bitches checkin' my stock
Got some birds I sell to niggas
Some I go rock for rock
Just got back from California
Kicked it with B-Legit
Put me down with purple chronic
And that hurricane shit
At the studio with Tone, man
I wish I could stay
I got to holla at Master P
'cause we got money to make
And when playas from the South stack G's, man
Like Ball, I gotta stack big cheese, man
Bitch say he want a show, you got nine grand?
I ain't rappin' shit until my
Money in my hand south Texas, motherfucker
That's where I stay
Gettin' money from your bitches
Every goddamn day
Big paper, I'm foldin' (Foldin')
Hoes is on my motherfuckin' jock for all
This dick that I be holdin'
I hate clone men, show it
Especially them fools that take our style and
Act like my niggas don't know it
Kick it with the trill niggas
So you best not trip
If ya keep on poppin' shit
My nigga, empty the clip, ho-ass nigga

Murder, mur murder, mur
Murder, mur mur murder
Murder, mur murder, mur
Murder, mur mur murder

Well, it's Bun B, bitch
And I'm the king of movin' chickens
Not them finger-lickings
Stickin' niggas that be trickin'
You need a swift kickin'
Your ass is ripe for the pickin'
Now as my pockets thicken, I'm deep-thinkin'
Nickel-slickin' you sick when I be clickin'
Now take a look at the bigger nigga
Malt liquor swigger
Player hater ditch digger
Figure my hair trigger give a
Hot one in your liver
You shiver, shake, and quiver
I'm frivolous if a nigga get
Wetter than a river for what it's worth
It's the birth of some niggas doin' dirt
Fuck her first night, take off the skirt
Make her pussy hurt
Mister Master, hit the Swisha faster
Than you fever blistered bastards
Fucked your sister, passed her
Fifty elbows for sale, yo
Brother better have my mail, ho
'Fore I catch a murder case and go to jail
Oh hell no, time to bail, hit the trail so
We can sell more fuckin' yayo, get the scale
No other bullet duckers can shove us
Out of this game
They better buck us, 'cause the cluckers
They love us
Make them glass dick suckers shake
They jelly like Smucker's
I hit like nunchakus
'cause Short Texas bring the ruckus
This for my motherfuckers
Cookin' cheese to crooked Gs
Rockin' up quarter keys to get
The hook with ease
Wanna-bes get on your knees
Feel the squeeze from them HK13s
From here to overseas, we do what we please
Don't trip 'cause we flip, light up a dip
I'm breakin' 'em off from they
Hip to your lip
Go ask that boy Skip, that nigga Bun rip
With one clip, soon as the gun slip
Now I done whipped out my Barrelli
Flyin' through your Pelle Pelle
And some smelly red jelly is
Drippin' out of ya belly
Served 'em up like a deli
Jumped on my cellular tele'
Ho, sell it like it's goin' out of style
You can't see me, Marcus
So have a motherfuckin' Sweet and a smile

Murder, mur murder, mur
Murder, mur mur murder