(Pastor Troy)Ooh, ooh, oohYeah, this for da clones in the atl,With them fake ass chains,For all the flexy ass niggaz comin' outta Atlanta,Verse 1Iiiii'm comin, 2 50 cal's in hand,Long goatee's nigga da taliban,I'll murda man, I'm tryin to murk somethin,This aint no chuck e cheese,I'm tryin to hurt somethin',These niggaz claimin G's, claimin' they run the south, please..How you run this shit in them butt fuck caprice,Atleast you outta know bout' my thrown,The P the T the are the O the Y,Nigga I'm so fly call me jet,Jump off in the ocean still aint wet,I flex I mothafuckin ball betta ax em,Catch a nigga talkin shit,Motherfuckin blast em,Murda, M - you - are - D - A,I'm pumpin gats at whoever in the way,I got the gunplay, don't think they understand,Don't think they wanna fuck with the Murda Man.ChorusI don't think they wanna fuck with the murda man, fuck with the murda manFuck with the murda man(well ah haaaa) (x 4)Verse 2Yaaaaa'll trippin',Not everybody crunk,Yall' niggaz gonna make me pop tha trunk,Cause I remember way back in the day, when the atl was'nt gettin no play,Then I came out, drop, we ready,Niggaz went to bouncin',Ridin' dem box chevys,But I guess that was then,This is now.... When I catch ya ass in the street, the guns plow,I represent the heart,I represent the Anger,I represent the real,I represent the danger,I represent the cars,I represent the dream,I represent repect,I'm representin my team,It's Pistol pt, aka the Murda Man,Ya pistol's in ya car,My pistol's in my hand,And you can ask Jan,I shot a nigga ran,Don't think you understand, I'm the fuckin' Murda Man(haaaa)Chours(x 4)Verse 3Stiiiiiill spinnin',Empty my magazine,I jump off in my limozine, and fleet the scene,This aint the swat team,This aint' lil scrappy and them,I love that hard shit,And fuck a platinum,And lil jon', used to be my homie, used to be my ace,Now I wanna slap tha taste, out yo mouth,Nigga down south I'm a legend,When you see me, keep mothafuckin' steppin,They flexin... So what you got a A(Atl) Hat nigga?That don't mean shit,To a southside killa,What's up Shay, what's up toadd,On that air, shady park,Murda, M - you - are - D - A,I'm bustin' shots at whoever in my way,Cockin' my A. K.,Don't think they understand.. But I don't think they wanna fuck with the Murda Man(haaaa)Chorus(x 4)(well ah haaaa)
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