Murdoh - Bizzy Bone

Know this liquor prolly killin my liver/ The villian is still in effect/ And I buck this motherfucker down, live and direct/ Hey, what I’ma chastise my momma?

Demand the respect, get up and strategize bitches cryin like they never

wept/ Slept in the gutter with no tech, I'm still in the dungeon/ Bitch I never left, pass that sticky icky ganja/ Creep on ah come up, I crept and I came/ Respect the dead game, remember ta let ya

nuts hang, often, matter of fact I'ma do mine all day/ I don't sniff coke, I like to make money/ Put the

fiends in the room, who’s hungry?

Cut from the cloth they cut me black cherry

weed/ Cherokee Indians based in Cleveland, thuggin and thievin till I’m the

last one breathin/ Only one believin is that Seventh Sign Saga/ Fresh and

remodeled, plush like Ramada now, holy like Ramadan, a momma’s smile/ Capo,

my nigga what/ Nigga execution always my guns is crippin cuz, P.B.D.

posse/ I roll with Rasu, Nina Ross, and Skails, Rhythm and Ghetto, Rosiah,

7th Sign murda em all, yep…

And like little Capo-Confuscious say «Nigga I’ll kill for you.»

-Prince Rasu-

Be careful as fuck, baby, take precaution fo’sho'/ They say that nigga Gotti

quiet, better fire off a Calico/ Bastard, I’m a animal/ My guradians was

avenues/ My Lord be my shepherd, but my swarms for collatoral/ Who can I trust?

Where can I turn?

When will it all end?

I’m suited up in Timberland boots,

Regime marchin’God damnit I’m a grown man, its time to take my own stand/ Fuck

the federations, my heart is racin’like grown mens/ Pumpin the anger

built up from years of stress, killers and haters surround me daily,

no fears of death/ I hear the breaths of angels and demons fightin’over my soul/

Lord, just give me the path through this bloodbath and it’s on, Lord/ Roll all

haters, out my zone when it’s goin’down/ Ride with the 7th Sign/ Violate,

we gone clown/ Four pounds be safe in the streets of the showdown/ Love to Gambino, you the chief, dog/This is my town, your town

Cock back and blast, knockin sparks up out they ass/ Makin marks come off that

cast, nigga you know what it is, think I’m serious/ Then heart attack,

missles aimed straight at where the fuck your heart is at/ Fix cement or get

hit, how hard is that, to comprehend, I’m tryin to be gone before them

souljahs come marchin in/ You blue suit wearin faggets with badges’ll get the

flux, I don’t give a fuck who you are we can send this motherfucker up/

Crucifixion come quickly come and get me Mister Reeper/ I ain’t scared to die/

I’m all like more than willin, the more the real the more that feel it, so

I’ma stay real until my heart stop/ My reflection with hoes, the essence of the

hard-knock life/ I am the light, and if you miss us then u misses haven’t

heard of murder/ Then you don’t know of pain, my veins bleed the same blood of the motherfuckers who murdered my momma so I’m a natural born killa/ Than

I, there was no cap peelas

Me and my Comptons’monster mashin’mobsters/ Analyzin’we done plottin'/ Plans in progress;

Rap game held hostage/ Ransom, trillion dollars/ Low

tolerence/ Suspect;

Armed and dangerous, violent tendency’s/ The industry stick

up, Kingpin Capo Regime/ Bend on your knees, duck tape and tied down,

follow my lead or everyone shot, bleed/ Squeeze round after round,

empty shells hit ots the ground/ Told you we ain’t fuckin’around/ Strictly

about our

business on some gangsta shit, no bank account/ Money talks, greedy hogs walk

the plank/ Negotiatin’our way, uh, forget the deal/ Your record labels'

sorry but your phony ass superstars carbon copied, indistiguished,

no identity/ Raise up off these N-U-T's, cock suckin’nigga, please/ We ain’t

dealin'

with no Jerry Hellers, hell no/ Call us the money makers, pullin’capers/ Baby

momma need that paper/ Get up off your ass, can’t be no couch potato/ Only

gets greater later/ Better believe in playa haters, see