Uncle Murda - Murdergram 2009 lyrics

[Intro: Maino] Uh! n***as is dead!!! Dead I tell you! Can't be serious! Know what'll happen when you take three of the realest n***as in Brooklyn! Street n***as and such, mix 'em all up in one track, It's Brooklyn!!! Uh! Heh heh! Can't be serious! Yeah! Yeah! [Verse One: Maino] Motherf**ers wanna k** me but don't got the heart To look me in the eyes with the nine that spark Cause whether you for or against us my murderous henchmen Leave shots in the same hoodie you dressed in No it's not a miracle baby I'm that incredible Street certified come on salute a general Your outta my league I refuse to war with you Simply I got more guns than you Keep the tek where my son live the llama at the other house Shotty in the car streetsweeper at my mama's house No sense I lost my damn mind now One shot'll leave abd gun powder around your eyebrows I'm the realest you n***as better comply now Make way for the king the streets is mine now I'm G and sh** stripes like Adidas's Chris Brown damn right I beat a b**h!!!!!!! This year the game 'gon let the crooks in Till the day that I die it's Brooklyn! [Verse Two: Red Cafe] It's R... I hope y'all, know I'm comin for that crown And my n***as hungry, don't bring your j**elry around 'Cause we eat food, and I got some broads to squeeze too In the +Boiler Room+ supplyin "Vin Diesel" Dressed in the ice, it's dark, dim the lights In the jails and I reach you, it's nothin to send a kite And my dogs all bite, we be right in the hood Down for anything, even knockin down Suge I'm necessary, see the ghetto need Red They know I got the juice like A-Rodriguez (WHAT ELSE?) And I'ma come clean with the bump-bump thing Extended clips, like I'm on somethin And if you pickin out Gs' in a line-up (yep) It's only a matter of time 'fore you get lined up (yep) And you get bucked down, I'm from Bucktown Shakedown, ready for war, wa**up now?! [Verse Three: Uncle Murda] I'm from where dudes they got sh** Where dudes'll k** they man like 'Pone k**ed Rich Or they'll sell d** to they own mamas Long as she come correct, with them motherf**in dollars (What you want, mommy?) Or they might let her go for a dollar, black If she two dollars short, they gon' tell her to holla back (Can't help you mommy) You know me, I'm right where the trail m When the club like where duke I'm beefin wit baby mom at (Baby!) My lil' brother locked up for a shooting He remind me of me, I was a bad influence (Sorry grandma!) Man, I had so many guns in the crib Saw so many people who wanted to be like me when they got big (f'real!) I'm co*ky, AIN'T a emcee iller than me And I know for sure ain't none of these dudes realer than me! (They not!) I'm the future, I'll shoot ya, ain't hard to tell If I ain't the hottest, it got to be snow in the L I'm tired of these s**a a** n***as They get record deals to start frontin like they k**as (It ain't snowin down there) Now, buck buck, before all this rap sh** They was goody-two shoes in the hood - They ain't never clapped sh*t!!! (OH!) [Verse Four: Busta Rhymes] co*k back and and watch the Mac push Your f**in head off, now buss a shot for East Flatbush!!!!!!!!! Only time we pull it and party And waste bullets without hurtin somebody it's the fourth of July!!!!!! Fireworks pop in the air Takin them chances rinsin the cartridge cuttin the tree branches (IN BROOKYLN!!!!!!) Even the children will catch it That's why when we was younger we borrow and trade ratchets And get it like Omar from The Wire from a young ba*tard And when the police come run up in Pancho deli and stash it (IN BROOKYLN!!!!!!) Rust n***as will start to dig in them Pockets as if my name was Drac, Hawk and Pig and 'em Drop it, I commend my n***as that's in the dirt And, go 'head and where the crown cause my n***as puttin the work in You know I be the God of the street The people say so I relinquish wearin the crown cause Gods wears a halo