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letra de murderman - trippie redd, lazer dim 700 & vonoff1700

lyrics from snippets

[chorus: trippie redd]
pullin’ down your block, they call me murder-murder man (bah)
i might send a couple shots, you know it’s murder, murder man (ah)
i’m the three-phone shawty, i got burners, burners man (phew)
n-ggas really don’t want beef like i’m the f-ckin’ burger man (ah)
talkin’ gangster sh-t, but you would never hurt a man
you’s a b-tch on god, foreign whips in the lot (ah)
yeah, i’m stuffin’ my pocket with all them knots (knots)
i don’t give a f-ck about your thot (thot)
i’m beatin’ her box, she suckin’ my c-ck (yeah)

[verse 1: trippie redd]
i got me some paper, them n-ggas got hot
i got me a mop, i don’t give a f-ck, you n-ggas get dropped
six of these n-ggas, right in the street
i leave ’em right in a muf-ckin’ creek (creek)
i put my life on a muf-ckin’ beat (beat)
got this sh-t out the mud, sh-t out the street (street)
she wanna f-ck, tug on my meat
she wanna love, b-tch i’m a freak

[verse 2: lazer dim 700]
it ain’t no love with you, deep in these streets
send out a drop, we gon’ push up, we deep
gon’ keep splurgin’ my racks on this weed
hollow tips in the glock, sh-t got disease
step on these n-ggas neck, we don’t let ’em breathe
pull out that [?], gotta [?] my drip
i took a uber there, left in a lyft
glock .19 with a scope, no sniff
come to that block, you gon’ see me on fifth
pull up with the stick, give you a gift
f-cked up, in the whip i drift
everybody trap out the stove, we got zips
everybody got us some fire, we got clips
come down the wrong block, whip get flipped
[chorus: trippie redd]
pullin’ down your block, they call me murder-murder man (bah)
i might send a couple shots, you know it’s murder, murder man (ah)
i’m the three-phone shawty, i got burners, burners man (phew)
n-ggas really don’t want beef like i’m the f-ckin’ burger man (ah)
talkin’ gangster sh-t, but you would never hurt a man
you’s a b-tch on god, foreign whips in the lot (ah)
yeah, i’m stuffin’ my pocket with all them knots (knots)
i don’t give a f-ck about your thot (thot)
i’m beatin’ her box, she suckin’ my c-ck (yeah)

[verse 3: vonoff1700]
you know that
first n-gga tweak gon’ leave in a box (dumbass)
you don’t wanna work no job
the last n-gga died tryna punch him a clock (dumbass)
thinkin’ i’m dumb, but it’s f-ck what they think
i’ma fight, f-ck ’round, shoot at the rock
before all this rap, i was like
…

- trippie redd lazer dim 700 vonoff1700

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