Otr Kam - Murda Lyrics

All right then
I'm from a place where you would die over a bitch
These niggas goofy always trying to hop clicks
He pump fake so I hit him with a stick
He pump fake so I hit him with a stick
Me and bro hooded up creepin' through the fags
Woodgrain on a drake, blackest in the mag
I ain't never had a bitch that can't get a bag
Niggas hatin' on the crib, tell them get a bag
Woods 14, I was trying to pass
We in war, bullets filth up in the mag
Drake come with woodgrain in the bag
Loose leaf, I got your homie in the pack
He's trading with the opps out of your dome on the block
Niggas talking like I'm not, top op on the block
While I'm clutching on the chop
I'm trying to beat a nigga block and send his head up with God
Niggas talking to the opps, I'm sending shots
We ain't f*cking with no nigga that can't beat up no block
I don't know what niggas on, but I'ma send his ass home
If he dissing on low minutes, go and shoot him in his dome
Two poles and two chops, name a reason I should box
Twin glocks, twin shots, me and seven trying to pop
Free locs, free ghosts, free seven, free the bros
When them niggas coming home, watch the cribs poke for gold
It's too late, you have a prepaid call
14, 14
And you made it
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