Ja Rule - Its Murda (Freestyle) (Feat Hussein Fatal).Mp3

It's murda, haha, it's murda
We back up in this motherfucker (Word to mother)
It's murda, y'all know who we be
Ayo don't let me catch you runnin' up out the back of E.T
R-U-L-E I-N-C
My nigga Fatal on the motherfuckin' ones and twos
Holla back you bitch ass niggas

Yo, cocksucker, I dip, squat and pose to cock the Nina
In the five series Beamer, dump and lean ya
I'm felon over misdemeanor, ride red over black Medinas
Take crazy for genius
Hated like Jesus, Christ, my weakness
Always been bad bitches and new bills with creases
My thesis, more than extraordinary
And that nigga that got shot nine times can tell ya
That I don't give a fuck, I don't give a fuck
God may I ask for your permission to take his life
This is grown man B-I-N-C the R-U-L-E
Extraordinary, one for the ages
We done sewed up the front of them gauges
To engage in combat, to send you where you're from, where your moms at
Motherfucker, you hear that?
And I ain't talking 'bout them heavenly
Skies, I'm talking fire from nines
Or maybe the fifty cal 'cause you like five-oh
Or maybe somewhere in Cal' where you like to lay low
Your bitch made and heard about that bitch you've been slaying
Laying up with somewhere right off of Sunset
Y'all haven't heard yet? That nigga change is loose
And I got proof, get it? I got proof
The vest is no use when we cock and flame
It's murda, yeah, murder incorporated

It's murda, yeah, Hussein Fatal, nigga
It's murda, motherfucker
Rule, these niggas crazy repping him without me
A.I. of the clique, believe they won't win without me
Y'all small little homies, frail but bold
Went from a pace to some bullshit like Jalen Rose
Got my blind D-O-G's reading braille and codes
Keep the heat in the winter, I can't tell it's cold
Claim my set, beast out, flame the Tec
Throw shots, niggas catch like Wayne Chrebet
Son of a gangster, talk dirty, son, I'ma bang ya
I'm the truth with the ox, keep gum on the banger
Hussein, the only reason hoes chase the thugs
Nigga, Blade Part II, I got the taste for blood
LawOfFatal.com, see Fatal drop bombs
More Militant Minded than y'all Fatal and Pac moms
Clutching the stick beam, sucking the stick green
Out the window or the sunroof, bucking the sixteen
You ain't a gangster, Em, this is gangster shit
And 50, you ain't nothing but a gangster bitch
Pac would never have did a song with no wankster snitch
He confusing y'all, he ain't the shit
We sex, murder and murder you niggas
Ain't no playing 'round with this rap shit
Banana clip MAC spit, bodies wrapped in plastic
This city where the skinny niggas die
No, you heard my dogs
This is the city where the skinny niggas ride, nigga

Hussein the Don
Believe we got this shit poppin' in this motherfucker
Rule, what's good?
When we enter the motherfuckin' club
Punk niggas walking after
Brick City, Rule, Rap-A-Lot Mafia
Murda, Young D, MURS, X-Or-List
These niggas ain't ready for this gangster shit right here
We've been doing this shit for a long time
Y'all niggas got the streets confused
Nigga, we've been on this gangster thug shit
Bitch ass niggas, you know what it is
Every time we touch the motherfuckin' booth, nigga
It's gon' be fire, fire on you niggas' asses
Niggas better gracefully bow the fuck out, nigga
Hussein Fatal, nigga, Rap-A-Lot Mafia, nigga
MIB, nigga, Murder Inc. bosses
Rule, we here, baby
Brick City, Jerz Mob, yeah
Shout out, let's get it