the vision is clear, this isnt my year, my decision is near
should i shot the pistol in the air, or let my demon bring-in the fear....
look in the rear, all i see is piers bleeding from they neck and they ears
from this guy who holding a pistol and beer, u'll get a fist full of cheer's...
im trying to make this as crystol and clear, im rageing in war
with steam smoking from teens joking like its outragous to draw...
my MurDah ways are contagious to all, my punches brake cages walls
spit straight k's and fours, leave u stiff... to stay in the morge...
guns flameing the floor, blood draining and all
out the mustage, i bust thing's, that'll leave ya brain on the door...
im incyan with the raw, leaving ya girl wide open like hall's in the mall
ya quick to call the law, go-ahead i'll be waiting while im grabing my balls...
waiting for a victom to pass so i can start stabing he's jaw
with hes people there,
so while im weaving the hit's they'll be catchin bullets like im passing the ball..
louiseanna even know i'll shot whoever ya think blessed, pastor and all
blunt being pass from a dead man in a cass,
the blunt turn off, so i starting stomping that ass throu the floor
wait i think its me triping, got me thinking if it's really me slipp'ing
tryed to snap out of it then cought my hand heat-grip'ing...
blank out and realise that my feet sticking, feel like this beef chicken
someone droping singles in here, i guess hes tricking...
because when it comes to tracks there only 1 who keep riping
Murdah, who's confused if im just to commited to it,
or to into it that i feel like im living throu it...

It'z MurDah.....