Paris (Rap)
Record Label Murder
[Paris:]
Now what would you do, if I blast
All up in yo' shit, motherfuck the whole staff
N***as know I flow, nine millimeter shittin slugs
I'm seein bloody bodies on the motherfuckin rug
Six o'clock be the time if it's on let it be
You see it in my eyes, ridin through, hella deep
See, bitch you ain't gon' do me like you did Da Lench Mob
I'm decorated in this game, I played too motherfuckin long
Now - I ain't gotta name nobody name
All I'm knowin is the whole fuckin roster is complainin
Talkin bout these white boys tryin to do promotion
And white bitches tryin to get fucked by these soldiers
Talkin with that slang like you down but now hold on
See now that's enough to get yo' devil-ass stole on
Fuckin with the wrong n***a, playin with my cash
I'm known for puttin devils on they motherfuckin back
Blast through the front do', what the fuck I'm 'posed to talk?
Fuck court, I'll be a dead n***a 'fore you walk
Brownout at nine, had no motherfuckin mercy
So who the sexy n***a, bitch record label murder

[Chorus:]
(N***a label murder) Now we fin' to start some shit
(That n***a fin' to start) Motherfuckers shoulda quit
(Better have a n***a money) Out for each and every dime
Seem like everytime I turn around
Some janky motherfucker tryin to take what's mine
(N***a label murder) Got the whole fuckin click
(That n***a fin' to start) Now we fin' to start some shit
(Better have a n***a money) Got these n***as out the zoo for the job
Bow down, motherfucker you can die when we start robbin
[Paris:]
So many times I seen these n***as fucked up out they chips
'Cause they didn't know the game, only makin 10 percent
Dealin with these fuckin jews, now you losin everytime
How many platinum n***as standin in the county line
Make you wanna get your brick and snatch his ass up out the car
Baby renegotiate, fuckin with them Scars
Now you askin who I'm talkin bout, homey you can pick
This whole industry got n***a shit on whitey dick
And then since I'm a soldier known to speak my fuckin mind
I'ma put you up on game, everytime I start to rhyme
Fuck that devil get yo' own man, learn about some shit
Or be another broke n***a, tellin what he did
And now I think you know, that I really gives a FUCK
Fear no evil 'cause I'm God, let that devil try his luck
Last man standin up, for the truth, say you heard it
These players gettin played homey, record label murder

[Chorus]