Willie D - Recipe 4 A Murder lyrics

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