[Intro: Pressa]
Murda, Murda, Murda, Murda shit
Bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody
Pressa
M-M-M-Murda

[Chorus: Pressa]
Bloody hands, bloody feet
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet
Louboutins looking like it's meant for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them n***as want grief
Bloody hands, bloody feet
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet
Louboutins looking like it's meant for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them n***as want grief

[Verse 1: Pressa]
Red heels, red sneaks
This the life of every hood n***a dream
There's nights that I couldn't went to sleep
But Pressa got a story of a life you won't believe
We going out, with a bang
Gotta spill blood if you really wanna hang
Before you leave your house you gotta always check your mag
Pressa picked up every time that phone rang
N***as bitching up you well know what you signed up for
And I'm on my block pitching shit like a pitchfork
N***as want smoke then we turn a n***a Newport
N***as ain't built from the cloth where we been torn
Riding in my city and you know I got my top down
Bitch, I love my Nina but I love how my fists sounds
Go buck wild got a glizzy it's a trey pound
When no one around suh, everyting ah fi get licked down
I just sold him whip down
Go and learn your wrist now
If you hustle make it count nuh
I think I need my money count
[Chorus: Pressa]
Bloody hands, bloody feet
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet
Louboutins looking like it's meant for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them n***as want grief
Bloody hands, bloody feet
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet
Louboutins looking like it's meant for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them n***as want grief

[Verse 2: Pressa]
Bloody bloody, bloody money
You don't even know what these n***as do for money
N***as getting money all of sudden all a suddy
50 on his head catch him and do it for mommy
Price tags, what your amount?
Shoot a n***a dead on his block and then we out
I came from trench wars and homies falling out
You worried about the shoes better worry about your belt
Bloody feet when I'm walking out a hoe
You got the right to kill just don't do in the house
They gave my dad a L, he do push-ups in the cell
Now every move we make yeah we better make it count
1 2 3 4, and she loves the way I rap about her Dior's
I got plugs overseas call me senior
And I swear I'm so sick I need a kill core
I'm so for if he want war then give him what he feel for
Trigger finger so sore
Let me show you how to make bloody make the billboards
I'm all about my money like my TuneCore
They want figure out me like they Filmore
[Chorus: Pressa]
Bloody hands, bloody feet
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet
Louboutins looking like it's meant for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them n***as want grief
Bloody hands, bloody feet
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet
Louboutins looking like it's meant for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them n***as want grief