Verse 1: (Willie D)
Motherf**ers are dying
And getting buried in the cemetary
Cause they a** couldn't pa** the preliminaries
That's when you mind your own
Stay in line and keep the f** out of mine
Cause goddamn I ain't got it all
This year I'm a f** off a whole lot of y'all
There was a body found in a lake
bu*t naked, wrapped in duct tape
And the #1 suspect came from a broken home
That ain't been fixed yet
You got family, ah that's beautiful
I want to see them at your goddamn funeral
Along with your b**h and your friends
Cause I'm a view the body, and pop your a** again
No I'm not dick riding the chronic like the others
I'm just the wrong motherf**er
For a n***a to play with or say sh**
Behind my back, cause n***a that's gay sh**
I'll make a n***a drop his pants then buck him
Throw him in the ditch and let the dope fiends f** him
I can't charge it to the game
Cause the game never paid Willie D a goddamn thing
I'm talking about a cold-blooded murder
You never heard of a recipe for a murder
Chorus:
Lay your guns down
You don't want to see me clown
One shot to your dome
Two shots, now you're gone
(2x)
Verse 2: (Sho)
n***as I'm smooth
But watch me move on this groove
About n***as getting they a** misused
I'm a soldier, I don't start trouble see
But somehow man the sh** just find me
Now take a n***a talking sh**
Better yet he talking sh** to me
Trying to impress one of his homies
A front for a b**h that I done already f**ed
And to this day I can still get my dick s**ed
Mix that together with a hot a** club
And that's a little dish called a n***a getting his a** drugged
But my hands ain't enough
I gotta schedule you a wait
Give you two to the head for old times' sake
So don't f** with me and don't f** with this clique
Unless you ready to lay in front of a pulpit
With your mama crying listening to some verses being read
For you trying to catch lead with your head
Did you hear what I said?
I want to see some red, pronounce your punk a** dead
Now you can beg, give me your dope and your b**h
s** my dick but it still won't change sh**
Because I hate motherf**ers who talk trash
So don't let your mouth overload your a**
But some still gonna flex
And I'm a swing and connect
And it's gonna feel like a train wreck
I'm putting in work
f**ing with Sho you'll be the quietest n***a in the church
And if a b**h is in my mix then a n***a gotta hurt her
b**hes die too my recipe for a murder
(Willie D)
My recipe for a murder is simple
f** with Will and get one to your temple
So pull your motherf**ing guns
And I'm a show you I'm the clean-up man in more ways than one
You got a posse, a thick clique
Cool, it makes it easier to hit me a b**h
I want to see you piss on yourself
And your eyes buck, for f**ing with Wize Up
Cause there's too many studio gangsters making noise
Knowing that they're motherf**ing choir boys
I'm coming from the south
I talk that talk, I walk that walk that f**s your a** off
n***as try to deal with it
But got the f** out of Dodge when they saw I was real with it
So if you're talking sh** about the Gulf Coast
s** a dead man's dick until you're comatose
And if a cop want to blast, we can blast
I'm a Tupac Shakur his a**
I'm talking about a cold blooded murder
You never heard of a recipe for a murder
Chorus (2x)
Verse 3: (Willie D)
Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head, but dig this
One n***a got got in the parking lot
Cause his punk a** ran me hot
Talking about he coming back
With his boys and his gat
But he ain't never coming back
See when a motherf**er threaten Willie D
I gotta f** him off before he f** off me
The trigger finger ain't never nervous
So unless you're s**ing my dick, save the lip service
I know a gang of motherf**ers who done pa**ed
For letting that mouth overload that a**
It's a wreath from the goddamn forest
Check out the motherf**ing chorus
Chorus (2x)
Yeah, it's time for all you motherf**ers out there to wise up
Cause we handle our business on the records and the streets
Punk motherf**ers