Luyện nghe bài hát Murda Mami

Yeah! don't get pussy
(uh-huh)

Kinda short, dark-skinned, she a fly bitch
Be up in all them clubs Dom P and shit
Know the boy stunt, Jonathan Kelsey
Yves Saint fronts on her bags to the pumps
D's her aura, Balenciago fedora
Lame niggaz bore her, like she Kimora
She'll take a kilo and it up in the coochie
Quicker than Ron, it between her coochie (ha ha)
through the hood, niggaz treat her like a O.G.
First bitch in the hood, with the Coupe GT (yes)
is the team, Alexander McQueen
Bustin a bird and balance it with a beam
Five five, eyes, bitch walk is mean
Mahushi Ron bracelets and jeans
They're called skinny, my bitch is like a rasta it
Black car, red bottoms, only in it

It's like damn, bitch, lovin me now
Oh-nine & Clyde doin it now - whoa
Murder murder, these bitches ain't heard of
Gettin money, gettin hurt up, impatient to leak burners

Aiyyo Ross, them bitches to the boss
The blood flyest bad bitch in New York
hoes better bow the fuck down and pay homage
I'm ten million sold and SoundScan knowledge
And all y'all rat bitches sound
While me and Ross like the hood of bombings
Bars give me style like you steppin in my
The 38 special in my Chanel
Now I got the llama and dark
to sly swifter fox who above me?
Say hello in pumps, Nickelus with that bomb
So ladies raise glass to this man song

Money ain't a thing, just look at my pinkie
So many numbers in the bank, shit never be the same
Tall four Velours, withdrawals by Michael
And I watch a pretty penny I'm talkin hundred or
My critique for 'leet, not for the
And my in the street way longer than my receipt
with the money, no (Monie) all (In The Middle)
I'm dealin opponents, they gettin riddled
Box up, on the ropes
sneakers, Louis luggage, the colognes and soaks
Smellin like money, my body tatted hundreds
Bonnie Clyde, gotta live with it like uh