“MURDER ONE”
Bone Thugs~N~Harmony
BTNHResurrection
Flesh
We in the last 5 days of these trials & tribulations, and I’m
waitin’ for the Lord. Oh please don’t leave me forsaken. Call
out for the doom, preparin’ for Satan. So we facin’ the
situation while I’m drunk, I’m stayin’ heavily sedatin’.
Wonder, will I make it through the Pearly Gates, nigga, or
will I burn off in that lake? Now when you feel the earthquake
shake and the dead awake. How many waited too late? It’s over
now. You niggas had a lack of faith, so life ain’t straight.
If you incapable, havin’ a little trouble unable to fuel the
soul? Better plead to the bloody Jesus. Watch how the majesty
control it and don’t let it go. Hold on, hold on now can I get
a witness? Shout Hallelujah! A-Men! I’m feelin’ the Holy Ghost
make you move, soothe ya. Soon I’m able to free your mind in
the way that my god designed. When I roll, drop dimes. Let’s
roll, you’ll find there’s no other like my kind.
Bizzy
Come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, come murder
one, murder them all. [*4]
If the world should end today—fully automatic runnin’ through
and gunnin’ thangs! Redrum when strummin’ pain. Mo murder, I
heard ’em holler, holler, clock dollars. Swallow me baby,
cause we bold and hollow-point tips. And I see now enemies
keep fallin’. Get ’em up, embalming fluid makin’ me nauseous,
cautious. These niggas is flossin’, Nina Ross tossed out on
Slawson. It’s for the auction rapper, pop a cop and got gospel
on him. Who want a Magnum? Who wanna tag him? Bag ’em up! No
problem (baby), bitch! Smoked out in high school, sleepin’ in
friends’ cribs. Sellin’ chicken, gotta get paid, we in the
kitchen, cookin’ up lle’. Get away, go, go with him. Hold all
the muthafuckin’ guns. Let ’em feel it, bust one shot, just
split up. Don’t nobody get up or everyone get lit up. And hit
up. So help ’em make you sit up (sit up)
Come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, come murder
one, murder them all. [*2]
Layzie
Make me push this panic button, nigga we movin’ like the
Panthers in the 60’s. Khaki suited, booted, Mo Thugs
recruited. You with me, nigga you with me? Militant-minded,
perfect timin’ it. Always on it, inclinin’ shit, nigga that’
s down for the grind and shit. Keepin’ real niggas rewindin’
this. Deep in the ghetto, in the streets of Cleveland—we call
it Thieveland, mind-deceivin’, leavin’ reasons for hustlin’
season. Bottom-line, money is power and the power mean muscle.
Money and guns stacked up to the ceiling, nigga get down for
his hustle (his hustle, hustle). What nigga, now what ‘cha
gon’ do when we come for you? Well, I’ma tell you right now
what we goin’ do! Scream, “M-O”, G. And start blastin’,
nigga never did like them boys in blue. No regards for
authorities, wanna dump a nigga up with the Thorazine? Oh, you
invited to the bloody-ass horror scene! Know what I mean, you
better get with the team. Position your soldiers. Ready for
war, nigga? Keep ‘em way down under! Nigga been waitin’ for
the day to let off these rounds—it’s thunder, it’s thunder!
I got my mind made up and them niggas straight ballin’ up
outta control—testin’ souls, hoes, niggaroes, on a mission
tryin’ to get that dough. Separate the minors from pros. Open
and close just like a case, place-to-place, through city and
state—haters be all up in my face and it just ain’t safe (it
just ain’t safe!) I’m knowin’ they want me a casualty of
war, boy, boy! I seek and destroy any nigga that throw the
decoy. See me on stage rippin’ shit—takin’ off my shirt and
breakin’ them sweats. Tattoos all up over my body—”7″ on the
stomach, skull on my chest. Nine-millimeter in my pocket,
ready to buck (buck, buck, buck, buck, buck, buck) on the
crowd. It’s always that one lil’ nigga, saggin’ and
braggin’ and talkin’ loud. Something about he ‘bout it,
‘bout it. Nigga, I doubt your whole clique. Real niggas don’
t run they mouth, real niggas make moves and get rich!
Flesh
Rollin’ in an Expedition, thinkin’ of a proposition, set up
my composition. Feelin’ relentless, fuckin’ up your
condition. Mo murda competition! How many niggas on the
frontline ready for whatever? My nigga with yo TEC-9. Nigga
disrespect mine! I win, you lose, the draw, whomever rip
through thyne spine. If you wanna listen to what I say, hey,
gotta pay your tuition, this ain’t no free exploit of an
exhibit ‘cause my niggas—too exquisite. I’m so Armageddon,
this is my Smith-n-Wesson. Here’s a nice slug for you and my
nitrogen-glyce’ bomb can land on ‘em, nuke ‘em all! Now
watch when they all come stormin’ so and one by one—hit ‘em
up, they fall! Let off with a little frustration, bust my gun,
bullets haul!
Bizzy
Come murder one, come murder one, come murder one, come murder
one, murder them all. [*4]
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