Murder She Wrote lyrics

[Intro]
Aye, 2 1
Hey hey hey

[Chorus]
First off baby let me start this sh*t off like this
Real drills this ain’t no murder that she wrote type of sh*t
Face shots and walk downs I was there when he got hit
Head tap they left em’ gasping on the curb by his whip
Real shooter when it’s time who the f*ck you think they call
I asked that rap n*gga from gang cause when it’s funk he ain’t involved
Ask all My pops I can’t be satisfied until I kill em’ all
And for the opps that’s sendin’ pictures wit’ my opps we killin’ y'all
Ah ha, get em’ gonе

[Verse]
I shot the b*tch don’t ask who dent em’
My lo hot as wе speak I had to utilize the rental
Cuz was dead he ain’t even get a chance to make the statement
Been through some real thug sh*t so I pop percs like they skittles
Who tryna’ dribble come pick me up I always volunteer
Think you gon’ turn this b*tch up well n*gga not in here
Somebody turn the AC on I heard it’s hots in there
And I ain’t boxin’ fear
Feet kicked up at the market cuz was not aware
Huh, aye
But that’s on him tho’
Got rap pape but if yo’ house a lick it’s a kick door
Last game I probably was that youngin’ through yo’ window
12 said we was them hot boys that robbed Christmas
Won’t never see me exercising I just pop n*ggas
Thought he f*ck wit’ us it hurt me when I seen the opps wit’ em’
You n*ggas still ain’t spinned yet there was a drop given
Aye, look, I would’ve been through there
That tough guy sh*t cool but I know you scared
It’s only 304’s 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
Huh, aye, that I don’t either
Ain’t got a check when I pull up then I won’t meet her
Still screamin’ free the 2 4 I miss my bro tweeters
Took that big b*tch 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 yo’ bro need it
Aye
I forgot he was gone
Step through they block they f*ck wit’ n*ggas we be steppin’ on
Anonymous is my tatic if I did it you would never know
Aye
Free the b*tch take them cuffs off and let her go
Huh
[Chorus]
First off baby let me start this sh*t off like this
Real drills this ain’t no murder that she wrote type of sh*t
Face shots and walk downs I was there when he got hit
Head tap they left em’ gasping on the curb by his whip
Real shooter when it’s time who the f*ck you think they call
I asked that rap n*gga from gang cause when it’s funk he ain’t involved
Ask all My pops I can’t be satisfied until I kill em’ all
And for the opps that’s sendin’ pictures wit’ my opps we killin’ y'all
Ah ha, get em’ gone