Paris (Rapper) - Record Label Murder lyrics

[Paris:] Now what would you do, if I blast All up in yo' sh**, motherf** the whole staff n***as know I flow, nine millimeter sh**tin slugs I'm seein bloody bodies on the motherf**in rug Six o'clock be the time if it's on let it be You see it in my eyes, ridin through, hella deep See, b**h you ain't gon' do me like you did Da Lench Mob I'm decorated in this game, I played too motherf**in long Now - I ain't gotta name nobody name All I'm knowin is the whole f**in roster is complainin Talkin bout these white boys tryin to do promotion And white b**hes tryin to get f**ed by these soldiers Talkin with that slang like you down but now hold on See now that's enough to get yo' devil-a** stole on f**in with the wrong n***a, playin with my cash I'm known for puttin devils on they motherf**in back Blast through the front do', what the f** I'm 'posed to talk? f** court, I'll be a dead n***a 'fore you walk Brownout at nine, had no motherf**in mercy So who the s**y n***a, b**h record label murder [Chorus:] (n***a label murder) Now we fin' to start some sh** (That n***a fin' to start) Motherf**ers shoulda quit (Better have a n***a money) Out for each and every dime Seem like everytime I turn around Some janky motherf**er tryin to take what's mine (n***a label murder) Got the whole f**in click (That n***a fin' to start) Now we fin' to start some sh** (Better have a n***a money) Got these n***as out the zoo for the job Bow down, motherf**er you can die when we start robbin [Paris:] So many times I seen these n***as f**ed up out they chips 'Cause they didn't know the game, only makin 10 percent Dealin with these f**in j**s, now you losin everytime How many platinum n***as standin in the county line Make you wanna get your brick and snatch his a** up out the car Baby renegotiate, f**in with them Scars Now you askin who I'm talkin bout, homey you can pick This whole industry got n***a sh** on whitey dick And then since I'm a soldier known to speak my f**in mind I'ma put you up on game, everytime I start to rhyme f** that devil get yo' own man, learn about some sh** Or be another broke n***a, tellin what he did And now I think you know, that I really gives a fu*k Fear no evil 'cause I'm God, let that devil try his luck Last man standin up, for the truth, say you heard it These players gettin played homey, record label murder [Chorus]