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murder bitch - anti da menace lyrics

[intro]
g, i think we got one
baow, murder baby, i’m saying, my murder b*tch
be my murder b*tch, haha
i said– told lil’ baby be my– look

[verse 1]
baby, be my murder b*tch
show me that you lay down in that cut and let that .30 hit
i been rapping in my sleep, i think that i’m too built for this
i don’t think they told you, but these f*ck n*ggas get k!lled for diss
you caught that body and got in that room and fold up like some pretzel sticks
brrah, brrah, brrah, brrah, brrah, i feel like nardo wick
spinning back to back, i don’t give a f*ck, they should’ve never started sh*t
smoke pole, make your baby mama eat the d*ck
you know her throat sold, all these n*ggas trailing on the gang, they gone get slumped over
riding the beat like rollercoaster
see me in a walmart, you know i got that thirty poking
treat his head like a bag of snacks, i’ma leave it open
ruthless boy, i don’t give a f*ck about them ig posts
fatalities, make that lil’ ho eat the d*ck, that lil’ b*tch tryna marry me
i heard i’m the biggest opp, tell them p*ssies bury me
b*tch, i’m with lil biggie, we leave his head swole like a f*cking piggy
how i’m worth some ms when i was just down bad with a f*cking penny?
oh, you with my b*tch again? i swear i’ma send that blitz again
n*ggas know ’bout anti know that 5 be my favorite gen’
brrah, brrah, i’ma have lil’ brodie dem just rock out like some rock stars
trackhawk with a kick, i’ma sn*tch off on a cop car
that boy say he want smoke with me, i’ma gon’ and hit up baby nard
we can’t get that p*ssy n*gga, i’m in his old lady yard
screaming f*ck the other side
told y’all he ain’t a real stepper, that’s how that boy lil’ brother died
he copped out, if we go to a show, we finna bring like every glock out
get his baby and put that boy in a oven like a pot pie
you got all my drops, p*ssy boy, why you ain’t pop out?
leave the hill wet, yeah, you know we brung them mops out
think i’m from new orleans, i get sh*t boiling like a bowl of noodles
black truck with them tints and that stick, that’s my favorite uber
high speed, b*tch, i’m with big ant, we in that cat, how y’all gon stop me?
hit her from the back, p*ssy wetter than some mac and cheese
please give me that mac*11
i keep telling these p*ssy n*ggas, i don’t think i’m going to heaven
i went on a drill with timbs and i left blood on ’em
bury your big homie, yeah, it’s time to throw some mud on him
in the ground, suppressor on my glock no it won’t make a sound
move around, i’ma spin this b*tch ’til y’all go out of town
miami trips, yeah we having .40s with the thirty clips
let it rip, treat him like a beyblade, i’ma get him slipped
[verse 2]
b*tch boy, yeah i’m rich as h*ll, you can tell by my new fit, boy
yeah, you f*cked that b*tch, but she still gone eat my d*ck, boy
if i shed a tear, tell the bro to shoot me in the head
i’m somethin’ like a deer, get to ramming sh*t like f*ckin’ spaz
y’all ain’t spinning sh*t, need to get back for that other hit
treat ’em like some grits, get the pot and get to stirring sh*t
you riding with lil’ anti so you better have your .30, b*tch
leaving sh*t on stand by, swear to god that i don’t care ’bout sh*t
you done put my name in a song, now let’s get it on
.45 with the grip, i let it rip, that’s my favorite chrome
how i’m just seventeen, but i got ms, finna let ’em see ’em
oh, he having smoke with the label? i wouldn’t wanna be him
time to the tracker on his car and meet his baby mama
i smoke all the opps in the city, call me baby stoner
we brung us a bag to the ‘yo, it time to roll it up
if a n*gga still stealing cars, he can’t f*ck with us
man, that sh*t played out, i had your b*tch laid out
tell ’em free lil’ p, i think he got like thirty days now
she said, “boy you tweaking,” b*tch, i’m geeking off this adderall
i might shoot the deacon, i don’t give a f*ck about praying to god
this sh*t off my head, i think anti is a f*cking sped
roll them n*ggas up, all the opps, yeah they f*cking dead (smack smack)
n*gga play with me, i swear to god i get ’em peeled back
bags in the loft, you can call this b*tch the rib shack
come and get your pound from me
i ain’t never spinning blocks again, i’m tryna get on feet
bet’ not be a set up, this on gang, everything get wet up
switch on every glock, plus they hold a fifty, don’t get popped
mama told me since i was a jit, i was popping tops
b*tch, i got a thirty and a switch on this exotic glock
yeah, i’m with young menace, pull a n*gga t**th like f*cking dentist
lil’ b*tch say she pregnant, b*tch, i hit you with a f*cking jimmy
they say, “anti, chill, you lit for real,” but i’m a blood man
i was at the bottom, b*tch, i got it out the mud, man
opps been cliquin’ up, man, i heard y’all boys done locked in
studio all night, yeah, the whole gang, we clocked in
spin, boy, you know who you is, you bet not get back in that benz, boy
f*cked your b*tch just like a opp, i told her i ain’t your friend, wh0re
yeah, we riding ‘ventador, yeah, i got that semi tucked
yeah, i’m rich as h*ll, i’ll spin ’em in a bentley truck
ayy, 2, please pass me the glock, i swear to god, these n*ggas hate you
n*gga play with me, i’ma pull ’em like a fake tooth
step*step, put ’em on a counter, chop ’em up, b*tch, i’ma f*cking chef
yeah, the streets just like a game, you know i’ma whack the ref
n*ggas think lil’ anti lame, swear to god they gon’ meet they death
see you out and pull it, swear to god that i’ma f*cking shoot
man, you p*ssy as h*ll n*gga, who the f*ck is you? b*tch

- anti da menace lyrics

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