Murda Murda

By Cuban Link

On 24K

Released on October 24, 2000

Thumbnail

[Intro: Alfred Hitchcock & Ja Rule]

How do you do, ladies and gentlemen?

This is music to be murdered by

Murder, murder

You know what it is


[Verse 1: Cuban Link]

Yo, son, I come through like John Wu shooting cops, yo, move I'm Top Gun dropping bombs on you like Tom Cruise

Don't get it confused, I'm quick to leave you dead on the news

I got nothing to lose, sick in the head like Bishop from Juice

Split you in two parts, bitch, go ask the wizard for a new heart

Cuba rip your crew apart with just a few bars

You know the repertoire Terror Squad, I'm in for life

The Bronx bomber from Havana with my pins and stripes

Niggas is nice spittin' venom on thе mic device, I'm poison

Don't make mе grab the knife and slice and dice your organs

I'm turning men to mice twice my size for flossin'

Like they imported so the price is life extortion

Caution, son, I'm dangerous, I don't rob and talk too much

I just aim and bust, turn your brains to mush like angel dust

Bring the rush in plain English, y'all niggas can't bang with us

A gang of thugs who love to get drunk up in the clubs

And ram shit up, stay punchin' niggas dead in they mug

If it ain't my blood, must be yours staining the rug

This ain't a game we playing, we bring the pain like (What)

Yo, word up

[Chorus: Ja Rule, Cuban Link]

Murder-murder, who the hell heard her?

The Lyrical Assassin blasting off with the burner

Murder-murder, who the hell heard her?

Hands up, niggas face down, you know what it is

Murder-murder, you'll end up getting hurt up

You'll be the one to turn up when they come and dig the dirt up

Murder-murder, we killing shit, word up

Bitch-made niggas, Rule and you reign us


[Verse 2: Ja Rule]

Growing up in the ghetto with that New York State of Mind

I realized at nine my future was crime

Hustlin' dimes was a trademark, soon as the blunt spark

I inhale, exhale, took that and exhale daily routine

Wake up, wash your ass, get cream, got that first ki

At my slick sixteen, I seen cold bricks and cash and shit

Got gritty and read up with that counterfeit

And every round I spit, I throw it out in silence

My N.Y. murderers, my L.A. riders ride with, ready to hustle

Kill and die with me, all for the love, ice, hoes, and money

Some murderous world we live in and that's why

All the rules are reckless and I wanna send love

From the murderers to the squad, R.I.P. Pun to Cavilon

[Chorus: Ja Rule, Cuban Link]

Murder-murder, who the hell heard her?

The Lyrical Assassin blasting off with the burner

Murder-murder, who the hell heard her?

Hands up, niggas face down, you know what it is

Murder-murder, you'll end up getting hurt up

You'll be the one to turn up when they come and dig the dirt up

Murder-murder, we killing shit, word up

Bitch-made niggas, Rule and you reign us

Murder-murder, who the hell heard her?

The Lyrical Assassin blasting off with the burner

Murder-murder, who the hell heard her?

Hands up, niggas face down, you know what it is

Murder-murder, you'll end up getting hurt up

You'll be the one to turn up when they come and dig the dirt up

Murder-murder, we killing shit, word up

Bitch-made niggas, Rule and you reign us