Released: September 11, 2017
Songwriter: Scott Arceneaux Jr. Aristos Petrou
Producer: Budd Dwyer
[Intro: Lil Choppa]
If you say "kill 'em", I said "I got 'em!"
(Lil Choppa)
Lil Murder
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 1: Lil Choppa]
Choppa with choppa stay loaded, bullet shells all on your floor
Tryna get higher, Ruby got fire
I'm fucked up, he fucked up, whole Grey fucked up
You done fucked up
Passin' that blunt, boy, you know what's up
What's good, my G?
Drunk drivin', but it's just codeine
Keepin' that heat on my side
Welcome to my life everyday, life every night
We all gon' die, prolly gon' fry
Fuck bein' sober, I stay high, forty ounce got sipped
Purple and yellow and red, only drink I mix
Big bag of that dope, drip goin' down my throat
[Verse 2: ROMEO DA BLACK ROSE]
Mmm, got your bitch beside my coffin, yeah, I call her Juliet
Told her not to weep, just make sure that you fix my fucking neck
I'm out of breath from smoking blunts
I'm too fucked up from sippin' Tech
Was I kissing on your bitch—or did I kiss the fucking TEC?
Paint me a new picture, picture that, I pictured death
Now my picture perfect moment stained with pieces of my head
Hate all of this bullshit, man, I hate all of this stress
Imagine that the more press that we get
The closer I can feel my death
If you say "kill 'em", I said "I got 'em!"
(Lil Choppa)
Lil Murder
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 1: Lil Choppa]
Choppa with choppa stay loaded, bullet shells all on your floor
Tryna get higher, Ruby got fire
I'm fucked up, he fucked up, whole Grey fucked up
You done fucked up
Passin' that blunt, boy, you know what's up
What's good, my G?
Drunk drivin', but it's just codeine
Keepin' that heat on my side
Welcome to my life everyday, life every night
We all gon' die, prolly gon' fry
Fuck bein' sober, I stay high, forty ounce got sipped
Purple and yellow and red, only drink I mix
Big bag of that dope, drip goin' down my throat
[Verse 2: ROMEO DA BLACK ROSE]
Mmm, got your bitch beside my coffin, yeah, I call her Juliet
Told her not to weep, just make sure that you fix my fucking neck
I'm out of breath from smoking blunts
I'm too fucked up from sippin' Tech
Was I kissing on your bitch—or did I kiss the fucking TEC?
Paint me a new picture, picture that, I pictured death
Now my picture perfect moment stained with pieces of my head
Hate all of this bullshit, man, I hate all of this stress
Imagine that the more press that we get
The closer I can feel my death
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