Correction Lyrics Murder Rate by ZOTiYAC

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Lyrics

That choppa spit and twist his body
Your lil homie died, you ain't spin back
The f**k, you scared or sum?
Them strikers on my a**, I ran up twenty, and bout all the guns (Revilo)
Address the situation while I'm off cets, I send it up
Bodies keep on droppin' back to back inside my city
'Cause the wrong n***as got money
Left folks hot, it ain't no chillin'
Bussin' off the trips, but I prefer the wock, just cause the feelin'
Caught him snoozin' on his block off of that Act' and stamp the hit
FN make his body twist, almost got off until he tripped
I let them shells eat on his face, then get up close, make sure he hit
Shawty run off like folks, so I know I got him whеn I blick
I put a name on every onе of these 556's in my clip
We don't pop innocents, we come shoot who we lookin' for then dip

I'm really 'bout mine, but I'm really 'bout my business too, that's it
I'm really 5' 9", but it's really 556's in this clip
You really f**ked up, if you think you finna touch me in this b*t*h
I put my hoe on him, he thought he gon' get lucky in this b*t*h (Finna touch me)
Lil stupid a** (Dumba**), hey, come here (Grah, grah)
N***a keep on boostin' on them apps
Like what, you tough or sum?
Twirl the wock, put the choppa on him like I'm cuttin' sum
If I'm walkin' with my chain out, you know I'm tuckin' sum
Walk in this b*t*h with a whole hunnid on me
I ain't talkin' bout money, I'm talkin' bout the drum and the gun
On the huff for your homie
Finna summon a demon and put him up on you
That be one of my homies
That boy did shoot and score like Parker, I might call him Tony (That boy did shoot and score)
Bro put the money in the bag, and get a bullet in your sh*t, ayy
A risk for your life, boy, you don't wanna take that risk
Choppa knock your whole f**kin' arm off, take that wrist
I caught him jumpin' out the window, n***a tried to break that b*t*h
Fast lane, I'm never cruisin' tryna catch up with them losses
Subtractin' f**k n***as, gotta link up with them bosses
F&N go through the vest (Let's go)
That how he got three to the chest (Let's go)
We kept them bodies, nothin' less
Want peace, we lay your a** to rest
Ooh, another R.I.P. shirt
My dawg just dropped the perms, he need a Perky 'cause his teeth hurt
Walk down with revolvers, need no shells, we call that neat work (Let's go)
My mind been on them drills, but I gotta rip these beats first
Driller turned into a trapper (Let's go)
Trapper turned into a rapper
Rotatin' all three just to make that money come faster
Must be off the Qualis, she ain't even see me shoot past her
Sent my gutter b*t*h to slam my opp, she gon' outlast her

That choppa spit and twist his body
Bro, your homie died, you ain't spin back
The f**k, you scared or sum?
Them strikers on my a**, I ran up twenty, and bought all the guns (Revilo)
Address the situation while I'm off cets, I send it up
Bodies keep on droppin' back to back inside my city
'Cause the wrong n***as got money
Left folks hot, it ain't no chillin'
Bussin' off the trips, but I prefer the wock, just cause the feelin'
Caught him snoozin' on his block off of that Act' and stamp the hit
FN make his body twist, almost got off until he tripped
I let these shells eat on his face, then get up close, make sure he hit
Shawty run off like folks, so I know I got him when I blick
I put a name on every one of these 556's in my clip
We don't pop innocents, we come shoot who we lookin' for and then dip

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