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    (Pastor Troy)
    Ooh, ooh, ooh
    Yeah, this for da clones in the ATL,
    With them fake a** chains,
    For all the flexy a** ni**az comin' outta Atlanta,
         Verse 1
    Iiiii'm comin, 2 50 cal's in hand,
    Long goatee's ni**a da taliban,
    I'll murda man, i'm tryin to murk somethin,
    This aint no chuck e cheese,
    I'm tryin to hurt somethin',
    These ni**az claimin G's, claimin' they run the south, please..
    How you run this sh** in them butt fu** caprice,
    Atleast you outta know bout' my thrown,
    The P the T the R the O the Y,
    Ni**a i'm so fly call me jet,
    Jump off in the ocean still aint wet,
    I flex I mothafu**in ball betta ax em,
    Catch a ni**a talkin sh**,
    Motherfu**in blast em,
    Murda, M - U - R - D - A,
    I'm pumpin gats at whoever in the way,
    I got the gunplay, don't think they understand,
    Don't think they wanna fu** with the Murda Man.
         Chorus
    I don't think they wanna fu** with the murda man, fu** with the murda man
    Fu** with the murda man
    (well ah haaaa) (x 4)
          Verse 2
    Yaaaaa'll trippin',
    Not everybody crunk,
    Yall' ni**az gonna make me pop tha trunk,
    Cause I remember way back in the day, when the ATL was'nt gettin no play,
    Then I came out, drop, we ready,
    Ni**az went to bouncin',
    Ridin' dem box chevys,
    But I guess that was then,
    This is now.... when I catch ya a** in the street, the guns plow,
    I represent the heart,
    I represent the Anger,
    I represent the real,
    I represent the danger,
    I represent the cars,
    I represent the dream,
    I represent repect,
    I'm representin my team,
    It's Pistol PT, aka the Murda Man,
    Ya pistol's in ya car,
    My pistol's in my hand,
    And you can ask Jan,
    I shot a ni**a ran,
    Don't think you understand, i'm the fu**in' Murda Man(haaaa)
        Chours(x 4)
       
         Verse 3
    Stiiiiiill spinnin',
    Empty my magazine,
    I jump off in my limozine, and fleet the scene,
    This aint the swat team,
    This aint' lil scrappy and them,
    I love that hard sh**,
    And fu** a platinum,
    And lil jon', used to be my homie, used to be my ace,
    Now I wanna slap tha taste, out yo mouth,
    Ni**a down south i'm a legend,
    When u see me, keep mothafu**in' steppin,
    They flexin... so what u got a A(ATL) Hat ni**a?
    That don't mean sh**,
    To a southside killa,
    What's up Shay, what's up toadd,
    On that air, shady park,
    Murda, M - U - R - D - A,
    I'm bustin' shots at whoever in my way,
    Cockin' my a.k.,
    Don't think they understand.. But I don't think they wanna fu** with the Murda Man(haaaa)
        Chorus(x 4)
        (well ah haaaa)

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