Busy Bee - Murder lyrics

I was walkin down a dark way, trouble had to find me The street corner shark was comin up behind me I grabbed my pistol, punk started to whistle Like you got a missile, boy, you know this'll Be fun, I put my hand up on my gun He tried to cut me on run, huh - but yo, I'm not the one Flexin up the trigger finger, a dead ringer I'm not a singer, and life just don't linger But I looked the boy in his eyes, and he almost cried But before he died Murder In the first degree That's what you get when you're messin with the Busy Bee Yeah, murder You better write your will I'm Busy Bee, I pay the bills, dressed to k** Murder Murder style Murder style A black guy on Howard Beach A boy lay bleedin from his head to his feet The police writin up his report Drinkin coffee from a cup and doin what he was taught At the academy, mistaken identity The boy was a friend of me, guess he wasn't meant to be Remedies, diagnosis or cure or a conclusion There's no confusion, it's just winnin and losin Hey, there's no pity or remorse There's no pause, cause what's lost is lost Huh, so throw his body in the bag And they'll say that he was high on crack But it's Murder In the first degree That's what you get when you're messin with society Yeah, murder You better write your will I'm Busy Bee, I pay my bills, dressed to k** I'm talkin bout Murder Girl named Patty drived a black Caddy The girl was so fine, I wanted to kiss her daddy Bring her mama out to dinner Bring Patty to the race track, then bring home a winner Buy her earrings and medaillons I got juice by the gallon But she got legs like a stallion Plus to be a cutie's her duty She got brains plus beauty Don't even think about the booty Bumpers, and she got no breaks So when she walks her shimmy'll shake Like ??? from the earthquake, on the eaves she would drop She'd go on the horn and say "I can't stop" The way she move, the way she pose She knows how to put on - and even take off clothes I never leave her, I never desert her She so bad - the b**h was murder Yeah Dance, s**er This is murder A pretty good-lookin, fine young lady Drivin a Mercedes, soon to have a baby Three months gone, she's treated like a pawn And all the joyridin good times - all that was gone Her world changed, she was feelin strange Things was runnin through her brain, cravin, hunger pains And her friend, he stopped goin steady Then reality hit her - she realized she ain't ready So now she must proceed with caution And sneak to the clinic and gettin an abortion They're both foetal, the less is too evil It' still raw, but still legal It's murder In the first degree That's what you get when you're messin with society Yeah, it's murder You better write your will I'm Busy Bee, I pay the bills, I'm dressed to k** In Bed-Stuy It's do or die It's no why Why's a crooked letter Yes, let's go get her You better met my beretta (Why?) The song set her Don't do the crime If you can't do the time Do let her get away To pray you must lay Because if you get caught You get the time anyway A lotta guys went to jail who ain't ready The only thing worse than a criminal is one that's petty Go to jail to get large He's doin life - what's his charge? Murder In the first degree That's what you get when you're messin with the Busy Bee Yeah, it's murder You better write your will I'm Busy Bee, I pay the bills, I'm dressed to k** Talkin bout Murder Murder style