Robb Bank$ - MURDER-1 lyrics

Back at it (I'm working on dying)

Yeah, show me what you working with
Stop playing games
Like you never heard of me
All on your fake page, steady lurking me
Murder one up on that pussy
Commit first degree, yeah, perjury
Perjuring myself, when it comes to anything
My love (love) breaking up to make up
So I'm learning that I'm salty (salt)
Hit you on your lunch break, baby
Look out for my call (call)
I'm selling snail salts
I'm the king of the mouthpiece (mwah)

I'm so toxic, I might call up (Cryin')
I'm so not shit, I might fuck on soft
(I swear)
I can turn you into my little tenderoni
(yeah)
Cut my hair like Ginuwine, and buy a pony
She act like a thot
But that face of Aaliyah haunting
For real though, boo, you giving Sade
I do and I love you

Need some status in your life, baby
Fuck 'round with the bosses
Play your cards right
You fuck around with my offspring
Tie my shoes up in Atlanta
Ridin' with twenty rugers, bitch
I had learned the rules, when I was junior
I know when to hit
Had to bust my tool and stick and move
Before I bust a lick

I'm suited up and booted up
It don't get much flyer than this
TTG, we trained to go, my nigga
Fuck the other side
Sucked her titties so long
That I left her implants lopsided
Church of Femto
Pour the Wock in the pool and got baptized
Just fucked a broke nigga, then fucked me
That pussy gentrified

Yeah, show me what you working with (yeah)
Stop playing games
Like you never heard of me (I swe)
All on your fake page, steady lurking me
Murder one up on that pussy
Commit first degree, yeah, perjury
Perjuring myself, when it comes to anything
My love (Love) breaking up to make up
So I'm learning that I'm salty (Salt)
Hit you on your lunch break, baby
Look out for my call (Call)
I'm selling snail salts
I'm the king of the mouthpiece (Mwah)

Kiss me back, i'm tryna take you back to
Places you never gone kiss me back
I'm tryna take you to dinner at the top
Kiss me back
I'ma fuck around and tryna meet your mom
If this was back in high school
I'd take you to the prom
Now I'm ridin in a Monte Carlo
And I can't stop

Doin' eighty on the freeway, hit the gas
Then take off she get beat
Then put that Coca in her
Nose like Scott Storch
She stuck me when I was broke
Got the keys to my heart
I'm in the big Bentley B
Tryna fuck on a treesh
Grab the condoms out the store (yeah)
What she hittin on? Boy, take her phone
She tryna drop it low

I got niggas thats dead and
Gone, and bonds to pay, i can't go ghost
I'm on the lean
I might just count these hundreds
On a lighter note
If you thuggin', if you in them streets
Then you can find me if she for the sheets
She'd get a ring and get off IG
They say she a sex worker
But the sex work for me
That lil' AMG look better with a car seat
(I think I might be happy) yeah, that's good

Yeah, show me what you working with
Stop playing games
Like you never heard of me
All on your fake page, steady lurking me
Murder one up on that pussy
Commit first degree, yeah, perjury
Perjuring myself, when it comes to anything
My love (Love) breaking up to make up
So I'm learning that I'm salty (Salt)
Hit you on your lunch break, baby
Look out for my call (Call)
I'm selling snail salts
I'm the king of the mouthpiece (Mwah)