[Intro]
These faggot ass n***as
Ayo Buck, word to mother
YO, THEY HAD YOUNG MALCOLM SILENCED TOO LONG BABY
THEY CAN'T FUCKIN' HOLD ME DOWN, N***A
The fuck these n***as thought?
It's the I.N.C., n***a, it's Murda
M.I.B., N***A!
MURDER INC. BOSSES!
Motherfuckers!
Ja Rule, haha
Ayo Buck
Turn this shit up in my motherfuckin' headphones, turn me up, n***a
Fuck these faggots
Haha
It's real, n***a
Yeah, it's real n***a (Ayo, word to mother)
(FUCK YOU LOOSE CHANGE, YOU FAGGOT!), Yeah
Yeah, (FEMINEM I'MA SLAP THE SHIT OUTTA YOU BITCH!),
MURDER INC., N***AAAASSSS!

[Verse 1]
How many n***as hold they heat like Rule
Sidearm, barrel in mouth to blow your head out to the south
And let little J get to airin' ya out
And if there's any change left
I toss you on down to the west (Westsideeeee)
And let Tha Row ride down on ya
California Love is what you crave, so on your grave
It's gonna read: "Here lie 50, who snitched on many (Snitch)
That half a dollar, that nickel, them dimes, and died like penny" (Yeah)
And Murder Inc.'ll send they deepest condolences and sympathies
To Aftermath and Shady, Interscope and Jimmy Iovine
Ya know your team (You ain't safe n***a) they really some peons
Gettin peed on and linked on
I'm talkin' about faggot ass gay Dre Young
And Suge told me all about how you used to take transvestites home (Faggot)
And occasionally wear thongs
No wonder Feminem be cross dressin' in pumps and tight lil dresses
My pumps they leave big messes
And I know the Truth Hurts when I bust reckless
Battle of the sexes, is that a woman or a man?
I really don't care to stand but 50 you gon' get shot again
By the M-U-R-E-D-R Inc. (N***aaaa)
I'm the rapper that sings, totes guns and blings
And these Fed's can't discuss 'em
'Cause Lighty's violatin us, usin' his powderpuff
(Fuck you Lighty!) cryin' bitch to Russell, like
[Beat Switch]

[Verse 2]
They shootin'
Ah Chris ya shook
And got Bus rhymin' the same ol' hook, like
They shootin', I ain't shoot up ya land
I oughta put ya in the coroner van
Like my n***a J-MUAH!
The dandruff Vanquish should be the get away car
When I clap at y'all broads
And Em, what's the durag for?
You never gon' have waves, you'll never know black pain
But you could become the first white rapper slain
Just get your money man
The Inc. is runnin' thangs, hideout wit Loose Change
And you n***a, I'ma send you to mommy
With strict orders from Gotti to hide the body
And Dre, your day's comin' too, 'cause I got a team of misfits
That squat and handle they business 'cause
I'm shootin', at all y'all n***as
And Lil' Mo, you just one of them bitches
That ain't had a hot song in how long, never
Your better off wit a dick in your mouth, shut up
Em, you claim your mother's a crackhead and Kim is a known slut
So what's Hailie gon' be when she grows up?
[Outro]
MURDA!
Y'ALL KNOW WHAT IT IS
MURDA!
Y'ALL KNOW WHAT IT BE
MURDA!
Y'ALL KNOW WHAT IT IS
MURDA!
I.N.C