[Intro: Mac Dre]
Ha, ha ha, come on
Ha ha ha ha, ya
I'm retchy, I'm retchy, boy
Let's do it, follow me now
Let's do it, follow me now, ha ha
We got the boy, the boy Thizzy Marley in the building
Listen, listen

[Verse: Mac Dre]
Yeah, man, we be jammin'
Come through in the old school slammin'
In my trunk, is a cannon
If it's funk I leave no man standin'
Stalk the streets of the 'sco like Reggie Hammond
Go strong to the hole like Ed O'Bannon
Hennessy with the lemon, just me and some women
Big butts stretch the fuck out they jeans and they denim
I always get my mackin' on; yes, I keep it crackin', holmes
When it's funk, I'm crackin' domes; back up then I'm smashin' home

[Chorus: Rydah J. Klyde]
Yo, yo, they say they love you 'cause they feel you, yo
Or maybe 'cause they hear my record on the radio
Yo, yo, but if they ever tried to play me though
I stop the music, grab my tool and let it go
Oh no, this ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote
[Verse 2: J. Diggs]
These bloodclaat n***as smoke weed in a cigar
Always on the road, keep what I need off in me cizar
Me send you off in E.R., you retched little moist cunt
Fuck you off nice over ice and smoke another blunt
Y'all know me, rude boy, I do it, boy
Especially on that fluid, guaranteed to fuck your mood, boy
Smith & Wess' mag, M9 in E-Class
Every time you see me you see three bad beetchas
Got connections with the coke and smoke and grow weed
Got two old schools and they both on gold D's
That's the truth for real, player, know what hoes need
Leave bloodclaats leaking like a fuckin' nose bleed

[Chorus: Rydah J. Klyde]
Yo, yo, they say they love you 'cause they feel you, yo
Or maybe 'cause they hear my record on the radio
Yo, yo, but if they ever tried to play me though
I stop the music, grab my tool and let it go
Oh no, this ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote

[Verse 3: Mac Mall]
Selectah, one more time
Informants speak on Mister Mallennium, it's gonna be murder, oh oy
The Don Dada familiar with fully choppas off ya and then we get further, D-boys
Crooked cop, bad mens, low lifes and ruffians
If I hold the rocket launcher like Crestside is Pakistan, boy
One love for nobody, me got cuddies, fuck a friend
And fuck a bitch, I kick her in the ass with Size 12 Timberlands
Understand, like King Kong when me lay down me Mac cannon
And at the rate my mafia going, might see me on CNN
For puttin' fire on poor Babylon, don't let no devils win
And don't let no suckers play me, fully kill you where you stand
[Chorus: Rydah J. Klyde]
Yo, yo, they say they love you 'cause they feel you, yo
Or maybe 'cause they hear my record on the radio
Yo, yo, but if they ever tried to play me though
I stop the music, grab my tool and let it go
Oh no, this ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wrote
This ain't a love song, it's murder that I wro-o-ote