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2pac - Murder Flow Lyrics

Murder Flow Lyrics[Intro: Lil Wayne, 2Pac]
Yeah, I'm still ballin', a bullet gotta get me
And I'll never be a pussy cus my hood'll never let me
Young nigga straight ballin'

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
Yeah bitch I'm paid, that's all I gotta say
Can't see you little niggas cause the money in the way
And I'm - I'm sitting high, a gansta ride, blades
If you ain't gonna ride fly than you might as well hate
Shit, I gotta eat, yeah, even though I ate
No it ain't my birthday but I got my name on my cake
Shit, believe that: if your mans wanna play
I'mma fuck around and put that boy's brains on the gate
Hey pick em up! Fuck em, let em lay
Where I'm from we see a fuckin' dead body everyday
That's - Uptown! Throw a stack at em
Make a song about me, I'm throwing shots back at 'em
Ya bitch on my pipe, and she like a crack addict
She saw me cooking eggs and she thought I was back at it
I grab the keys, "ho I gotta go"
I got my motorcycle jacket and my motorcycle locs

[Hook: Lil Wayne, 2Pac]
Young nigga straight ballin'
Yeah, I'm still ballin', a bullet gotta get me
And I'll never be a pussy 'cus my hood'll never let me
And everybody wants to see if..
And everybody wants to see if..
And everybody wants to see if..
And everybody wants to see if..

[Verse 2: 2Pac]
Ain't no escape from a deadly fate
And everyday there's a million black bodies put away
I'm startin' to lose hope
It seems everybody's on dope
Mama told me to leave 'cause she was broke
Sometimes I choke on the indo
Peepin' out the window alone on my own
I'm a criminal
Got no love from the household I'm out cold
In the streets give me motherfucking peace
I got nothing to lose
And something to prove
What do I do livin Thug Life nigga stay true
I wonder when they kill me
Is there a Heaven for a real G
Lord forgive me if you feel me
'Cause all my life I was dirt broke
With no hope little skinny motherfucker wantin' dough
I hated cutting suckers with my razor blade
But everyday it's a struggle to get major paid
Anyway it's so hard on a nigga in this city
No pity and ain't no love for the scrubs that be buyin dimes
If you could walk a mile in my shoes you'd be crazy too
I thank the Lord for my many blessings
Though I'm stressin' keep a vest for protection
From the barrel of the Smith & Wesson
And all my niggas in the pen'
Here we go again
Ain't nothing separating us but my MAC 10
Born in the ghetto as a hustler, hold up!
Straight soldier, buckin' at them busters
No matter how you try niggas never die
We just retaliate with hate then we multiply
See me striking down the block hittin' corners
Mobbin' like a motherfucker livin' like I wanna
Ain't no stoppin' at the red lights I'm sideways
Thug Life motherfucker crime pays
Let the cops put they lights on
Chase me nigga
Zig-zaggin' through the freeway
Race me nigga
In a high speed chase with the law
The realest motherfucker that you ever saw

[Hook: Lil Wayne, 2Pac]
Young nigga straight ballin'
Yeah, I'm still ballin', a bullet gotta get me
And I'll never be a pussy 'cus my hood'll never let me

[Verse 3: The Notorious B.I.G]
I put hoes in NY onto DKNY
Miami, D.C. prefer Versace
All Philly hoes, go with Moschino
Every cutie wit a booty bought a Coogi
Now who's the real dookie, meaning who's really the shit
Them niggas ride dicks, Frank White push the six
Or the Lexus, LX, four and a half
Bulletproof glass, tints if I want some ass
Gonna blast squeeze first ask questions last
That's how most of these so-called gangsters pass
At last, a nigga rappin bout blunts and broads
Tits and bras, ménage à trois, sex in expensive cars
I still leave you on the pavement
Condo paid for, no car payment
At my arraignment, note for the plaintiff
"Your daughter's tied up in a Brooklyn basement
Sicker than your average
Poppa twist cabbage off instinct
Niggas don't think shit stink
Pink gators, my Detroit players
Timbs for my hooligans in Brooklyn
Dead right, if the head right, Biggie there every night
Poppa been smooth since days of Underroos
Never lose, never choose to, bruise crews who
Do something to us, talk go through us
Girls walk to us, wanna do us, screw us
Who us? Yeah, Poppa and Puff
Close like Starsky and Hutch, stick to clutch
Yeah, I squeeze three at your cherry M-3
Bang every MC easily, busily
Recently niggas frontin', ain't saying nothin'
So I just speak my piece, keep my peace
Cubans with the Jesus piece, with my peeps
Packin', askin' who want it, you got it nigga flaunt it
That Brooklyn bullshit, we on it