Your Life’s On The Line

[Intro] Nobody likes me Nobody likes me, but that's okay 'Cause I don't like y'all anyway Man, I don't like y'all anyway Fuck all y'all I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me My gat talk for me, baow, what up, homie? Them bitches who don't know me, they wanna blow me 'Cause the shit I floss with be saying a lot for me [Verse 1] I came in the rap humble, I don't give a fuck now I'll serve anybody like niggas who hustle uptown (Uh-huh, uh-huh) Coke price go up, capsules come down The D's run in my crib, I'm nowhere to be found Niggas who hustle for me, they don't even stash tracks They keep 'em on 'em, right there in they ass crack (Yeah) When I don't like a nigga, I don't pretend to I'll have the paramedics wrapping your fucking head like a Hindu Look, I ain't going nowhere, so get used to me OGs look at me and see I'm what they used to be I'm that nigga that sold coke, the nigga that sold dope The nigga that shot dice, went broke, then sold soap The thug that pop shit, the thug that pop clips The thug that went from three and a half to a whole brick Nigga ain't in his right mind going against me My pictures painted through words, I make a blind man see (Woo) [Chorus] Scream, "Murda," I don't believe you "Murda," fuck around and leave you "Murda," I don't believe you "Murda, murda," your life's on the line [Post-Chorus] Y'all niggas don't want no parts of me You tryna figure out how y'all started me You gon' make me catch you on a late night Pop shots with the fifth, then slide off in the six [Verse 2] I'm not a marksman while sparking, so I spray random Not a pretty nigga, but my moms think I'm handsome I hate to hear he say, she say shit Unless he say she said she on my dick It's no coincidence niggas who fuck with me get shot up (Blatt) I do it Cali style, drive by and tear your block up You soft, duke, you putting up a crazy front I stay with the MAC 'cause niggas tried to blaze me once In the hood, they like, "Damn, 50 really spit it on 'em" "You heard that shit?" "Yeah, 50 really shitted on 'em" Beef, you don't want none, so don't start none You're just a small player in this game, play your part, son [Chorus] Scream, "Murda," I don't believe you "Murda," fuck around and leave you "Murda," I don't believe you "Murda, murda," your life's on the line [Verse 3] These cats always escape reality when they rhyme (Uh-huh, uh-huh) That's why they write about bricks and only dealt with dimes (Yeah) Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car NASCAR, truck with a crash bar And TVs in the dash, pa See 'em in the five with stock rims (Hahaha), I just laugh, pa I catch stunts when I ain't trying, I ain't lying I sip Dom P 'til I spit up, keep my wrist lit up Get outta line, I get you hit up (Woo) Now if you say my name in your rhyme, you better watch what you say You get carried away, you could get shot and carried away Now here's a list of MCs that could kill you in eight bars 50, um, JAY-Z and Nas I'ma say this shit now and never again We ain't buddies, we ain't partners, and we damn sure ain't friends The games you playing, you get killed like that Acting like you all hard, you ain't built like that See me when you see me, nigga, what? [Chorus] Scream, "Murda," I don't believe you "Murda," fuck around and leave you "Murda," I don't believe you "Murda, murda," your life's on the line [Post-Chorus] Y'all niggas don't want no parts of me You tryna figure out how y'all started me You gon' make me catch you on a late night Pop shots with the fifth, then slide off in the six