Текст песни
I'm off that dom, vum-vum-vum (AC, turn that heat up, nigga)
"Murda," yeah, that's what she wrote (hold up, mmm)
It's Carbon
I get money, that's of course (duh), I'm pushin' P, I'm in the Porsche (what?)
12 just flicked the lights behind me, finna put this bitch in sport (come on)
Name some shit I can't afford (what?)
Just blew 10K on this nigga (why?)
Shit, 'cause I was bored (what?)
He in love with my accent, tryna fuck up off my voice
I'm screaming, "Whole lot of choppa gang shit," until I'm hoarse
Three-seven-five, 'til I'm hoarse
Like, Murda (murda)
Fresh as fuck, I'm dressed to kill (damn)
Strapped up, shoot to kill (blrrrd, blrrrd)
Had to dead shit with them hoes, they ain't know how to keep it real
Fuck a nigga, why you say that, Carbon shit, that's how I feel (what?)
Yeah, shit, that's how I feel
Like, Murda (choppa gang, bitch, I'm finally like, Yeah)
Fuck advice, I stopped listenin' 'cause they wasn't talking 'bout shit (hoe)
30K in cash, hoe, I just put that on my crib (come on)
Burn his head in this backseat, he can't find out where I live (uh-uh)
KKK for real, I hate niggas, get the fuck up out my whip
Got a pretty-ass face, with some juicy-ass lips
And I ain't got no feelings, all-natural, spectacular (hoe)
He like, "Mmm-mmm, this good pussy immaculate"
Tell your hoe to pipe down, I shoot bitches, I ain't having it (blrrrd)
Murda, yeah, that's what she wrote
Mmm, uh, yeah, that's what she wrote
'Cause it was babies up out there (I'm 'bout to come back in)
One more time
Last bitch played ain't get sprayed 'cause it was babies up out there (you know that)
Y'all thought it was funny, I put money on your head, you touch a hair (every time)
Dead dummy, they gon' shine, catch you in public, catch you clubbing (better not)
'Fore you ever catch me slipping, fuck around and catch me thumbing (through these hundreds)
Hoe, I've been in the kitchen, cooking, getting hot as hell
I need an M when I'm hungry, when I'm broke, I'm not myself (fuck a nigga)
Never signed to a label, you won't catch me on no shelf (at all)
Murda (every time)
It's already 10 p.m. and I ain't ate shit today (uh-uh)
Ain't nothing sweet, but, bitch, I've been getting cake today (getting paid)
I ain't dancing in no club, but I might hit that paper chase (them bands)
Movin' at my own pace, you know the turtle run the race
In the cut, by my lonely, blunt getting faced (what?)
Fuck this shit, could never change, CGE 'til my grave (375)
Screaming, "Murda" (Free Shiesty, on God)
On my mama
Long live Tay-Tay, long live lil' Dell, y'all know what the fuck going on
We Rambo living, hoe, on God
I'm screaming, "Murda," 'bout my brother, hoe
Keep all that