UGK — Murder

[Produced by Pimp C] [Intro: Esé] Fuck this motherfucker, he just got love, you know what I mean? Because we got to get out here, ain't no place here for us You know what I mean? But that motherfucker, I need to kill him That's all [Chorus] Murder (Huh), mur— Murder (Talkin' 'bout a murder), mur— Murder (Huh), mur— mur— Murder (Check it out) [Verse 1: Pimp C] I'm still Pimp C, bitch, so what the fuck is up? Puttin' powder on the streets 'cause I got big fuckin' nuts Comin' back from Louisiana in a Fleetwood 'Lac I just served them niggas some shit to put they fiends on they back Got the pounds going for four 'cause you know I just paid two Nigga bought thirty from me, so I fronted forty-two He gon' pop for seven hundred times sixty-two Twenty-four eight is what I get, so nigga, fuck what you do If I told ya cocaine numbers, you would think I was lyin' Young-ass niggas, twenty-two, is talkin' 'bout they retirin' In the game, ain't a thang, comin' foreign with Benz Brick-ass home, two apartments where I entertain friends More bounce to the ounce 'cause the Brougham the shit I done got me fifty ounces out a bird in this bitch Tighten up, no slack, bitches checkin' my stock Got some birds I sell to niggas, some I go rock for rock Just got back from California, kicked it with B-Legit Put me down with purple chronic and that hurricane shit At the studio with Tone, man, I wish I could stay I got to holla at Master P 'cause we got money to make And when playas from the South stack G's, man Like Ball, I gotta stack big cheese, man Bitch say he want a show, you got nine grand? I ain't rappin' shit until my money in my hand South Texas, motherfucker, that's where I stay Gettin' money from your bitches every goddamn day Big paper, I'm foldin' (Foldin') Hoes is on my motherfuckin' jock for all this dick that I be holdin' I hate clone men, show it Especially them fools that take our style and act like my niggas don't know it Kick it with the trill niggas, so you best not trip If ya keep on poppin' shit, my nigga, empty the clip, ho-ass nigga [Chorus] Murder, mur— Murder, mur— Murder, mur— mur— Murder Murder, mur— Murder, mur— Murder, mur— mur— Murder [Verse 2: Bun B] Well, it's Bun B, bitch, and I'm the king of movin' chickens Not them finger-lickings, stickin' niggas that be trickin' You need a swift kickin', your ass is ripe for the pickin' Now as my pockets thicken, I'm deep-thinkin', nickel-slickin' You sick when I be clickin', now take a look at the bigger nigga Malt liquor swigger, player hater ditch digger Figure my hair trigger give a hot one in your liver You shiver, shake, and quiver I'm frivolous if a nigga get wetter than a river For what it's worth, it's the birth of some niggas doin' dirt Fuck her first night, take off the skirt, make her pussy hurt Mister Master, hit the Swisha faster Than you fever blistered bastards, fucked your sister, passed her Fifty elbows for sale, yo Brother better have my mail, ho 'Fore I catch a murder case and go to jail, oh Hell no, time to bail, hit the trail so We can sell more fuckin' yayo, get the scale, no Other bullet duckers can shove us out of this game They better buck us, 'cause the cluckers, they love us Make them glass dick suckers shake they jelly like Smucker's I hit like nunchakus, 'cause Short Texas bring the ruckus This for my motherfuckers, cookin' cheese to crooked Gs Rockin' up quarter keys to get the hook with ease Wanna-bes get on your knees, feel the squeeze from them HK13s From here to overseas, we do what we please Don't trip 'cause we flip, light up a dip I'm breakin' 'em off from they hip to your lip Go ask that boy Skip, that nigga Bun rip With one clip, soon as the gun slip Now I done whipped out my Barrelli, flyin' through your Pelle Pelle And some smelly red jelly is drippin' out of ya belly Served 'em up like a deli, jumped on my cellular tele' Ho, sell it like it's goin' out of style You can't see me, Marcus So have a motherfuckin' Sweet and a smile [Chorus] Murder, mur— Murder, mur— Murder, mur— mur— Murder