Quality Control Lyrics
"Murda"

aye Duke Deuce
What the fuck these niggas talkin' 'bout man?
aye they got us fucked up
Y-R-N

Money, paper, racks, cash, blue hunnids, guapanese
Foreign bitches, suckin', fuckin' got 'em all, on they knees
All my niggas totin' pistols, even with felonies (huh)
And they shoot 'em like a camera, nigga, saye cheese (huh)
I know niggas bangin, Bloods, Crips, and some G's (huh)
And I got them shooters 'cross the country, overseas
These Percocet tens got me geekin', feel like Hercules
It's murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda season (what?)
It's murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda season (murda)

Them young niggas killin, hurtin' niggas for no reason (brrah)
Free my brothers down the road, locked up but still eatin' (free Weezy)
And they'll still never ever fold, when the judge ain't no pleadin'

It's just me and Duke Deuce (Duke Deuce)
We got beat a nigga ass 'till he turn black & blue (boom boom)
See the opps we gon' shoot (blatt)
All these dead bodies nigga, recognize who was who (who's who)
YRN got her spooked, I came in with the gang
so I'ma pull up with the troops (gang)
And I ain't ever gon' switch (nah), and my nigga wiped your nose
Just know we in cahoots (Bitch!)
Murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda (Murda)
These niggas gangsta poppin' shit, until we turn 'em (what?)
Into bitches, yes we keep that fire, we gon' burn 'em (blatt)
No you can't buy them stripes nigga, gotta earn 'em

Money, paper, racks, cash, blue hunnids, guapanese
Foreign bitches, suckin', fuckin' got 'em all, on they knees
All my niggas totin' pistols, even with felonies (huh)
And they shoot 'em like a camera, nigga, saye cheese (huh)
I know niggas bangin, Bloods, Crips, and some G's (huh)
And I got them shooters 'cross the country, overseas
These Percocet tens got me geekin', feel like Hercules (what the fuck?)
It's murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda season (aye, aye)

1-2-3-4 trappers up in my bando
5-6-7-8 sticks 'till a bitch better get low (uh)
You think I'm Duke Deuces, it's Memphis
Makin' easy money and pimpin' (and pimpin')
Whole 'lotta robbin and dealin' (and dealin')
Man everybody here killin' (everybody here killin')

I heat up, and beat up the block
I G up, and keep up, to re-up the stock (re-up the stock)
(look what) look what I am, what you're not, the people
they eat up, 'cause all my shit hot (all my shit hot)
Uh, I'm out with no fours, my ice is cold
his ice-cream rocky road (it's rocky road)
Stick to the code, I never fold, I put that on the fours (poverty) (yeah)
Uh, you can see in a nigga eyes, some hungry, don't bother me (grr)
Uh, nigga fuck with me they gon' hide lil' home
Yeah my nuts hangin', ain't no gangbangin',
why the fuck you shootin' if you ain't aimin'? (bap, bap)
Goin' one fifty in a Hell Cat (skrrt),
with the red seats like a dark angel (what the fuck?)

Money, paper, racks, cash, blue hunnids, guapanese (aye, aye)
Foreign bitches, suckin', fuckin' got 'em all, on they knees
All my niggas totin' pistols, even with felonies (huh)
And they shoot 'em like a camera, nigga, saye cheese (huh)
I know niggas bangin, Bloods, Crips, and some G's (huh)
And I got them shooters 'cross the country, overseas
These Percocet tens got me geekin', feel like Hercules
It's murda, murda, murda, murda, murda, murda season