Pastor Troy Murder Man Lyrics

(Pastor Troy)
ooh, ooh, ooh
yeah, this for da clones in the ATL,
With them fake a** chains,
For all the flexy a** ni**az comin' outta Atlanta,
Verse 1
iiiii'm comin, 2 50 cal's in hand,
long goatee's ni**a 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 ni**az claimin G's, claimin' they run the south, please..
How you run this sh** in them butt fu** caprice,
Atleast you outta know bout' my thrown,
the P the T the R the O the Y,
ni**a i'm so fly call me jet,
jump off in the ocean still aint wet,
I flex I mothafu**in ball betta ax em,
catch a ni**a talkin sh**,
motherfu**in blast em,
Murda, M - U - R - 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 fu** with the Murda Man.
Chorus
I don't think they wanna fu** with the murda man, fu** with the murda man
fu** with the murda man
(well ah haaaa) (x 4)
Verse 2
yaaaaa'll trippin',
not everybody crunk,
yall' ni**az 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,
ni**az went to bouncin',
ridin' dem box chevys,
But I guess that was then, This is now.... when I catch ya a** 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 ni**a ran,
don't think you understand, i'm the fu**in' Murda Man(haaaa)
Chours(x 4)

Verse 3
Stiiiiiill 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 sh**,
and fu** a platinum,
and lil jon', used to be my homie, used to be my ace,
now I wanna slap tha taste, out yo mouth,
ni**a down south i'm a legend,
when u see me, keep mothafu**in' steppin,
they flexin... so what u got a A(ATL) Hat ni**a?
that don't mean sh**,
to a southside killa,
What's up Shay, what's up toadd,
On that air, shady park,
Murda, M - U - R - 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 fu** with the Murda Man(haaaa)
Chorus(x 4)
(well ah haaaa)

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