Murder She Wrote

Lyrics

[Intro] Ayy, 21 (Jew3lz) Hey, hey, hey (Oh, Yo Bitch was on this one) [Chorus] First off, baby, let me start this shit off like this Real drills, this ain't no murder-that-she-wrote type of shit Face shots and walk-downs, bitch, I was there when he got hit Head tap, they left him gaspin' on the curb by his whip Real shooter, when it's time, who the fuck you think they call? I X'd that rap nigga from gang 'cause when it's funk, he ain't involved That's on my pops, I can't be satisfied until I kill 'em all And for the opps that's sendin' pictures with my opps, we killin' y'all Ah-ha, get 'em gone [Verse] I shot thе bitch, no accidentals My lo' hot as we speak, I had to utilizе the rental Cuz was dead, he ain't even get a chance to make the 'spital Been through some real thug shit, so I pop Percs like they Skittles Who tryna drill? Come pick me up, I always volunteer Think you gon' turn this bitch up, well, nigga, not in here Somebody turn the AC on, I heard it's hot in here And I ain't boxin' fear Feet kicked up at the market, cuz was not aware Ayy, but that's on him, though Got rap pape', but if your house a lick, it's a kick-door Last game, I probably was that youngin' through your window 12 said we was them hot boys that robbed Christmas Won't never see me exercisin', I just pop niggas Thought he fuck with us, it hurt me when I seen the opps with him You niggas still ain't spint yet, there was a drop given Ayy, look, I would've been through there That tough-guy shit cool, but I know you scared It's only 304s in my load, I damn near shoot squares Ain't tryna post up on that block, I only hoop there Hella different pistols when we slide, we don't shoot fair Ayy, that I don't either Ain't got a check when I pull up, then I won't meet her Still screamin', "Free the 24," I miss my bro Tweeters Took that big bitch off his hands 'cause he don't need her I will pop out and act up and that's on C His lil' brother white-flagged the funk, he don't want smoke either I hand out shootin' lessons to the dead, I think your bro need it Ayy, I forgot he was gone Step through they block, they fuck with niggas we be steppin' on Anonymous is my tactic, if I did it, you would never know Ayy, free the bitch, take them cuffs off and let her go [Chorus] First off, baby, let me start this shit off like this Real drills, this ain't no murder-that-she-wrote type of shit Face shots and walk-downs, bitch, I was there when he got hit Head tap, they left him gaspin' on the curb by his whip Real shooter, when it's time, who the fuck you think they call? I X'd that rap nigga from gang 'cause when it's funk, he ain't involved That's on my pops, I can't be satisfied until I kill 'em all And for the opps that's sendin' pictures with my opps, we killin' y'all Ah-ha, get 'em gone