Murda, Murda, Murda, Murda shit
Bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody
Pressa (Murda)

Bloody hands (bloody), bloody feet (bloody)
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet (red)
Louboutin's looking like it's made for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them niggas want grief (they don't)
Bloody hands (bloody), bloody feet (bloody)
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet (red)
Louboutin's looking like it's made for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them niggas want grief

Red heels (bad bitches), red sneaks (super swaggy)
This the life of every hood nigga dream (I know)
There's nights that I coulda went to sleep
But Pressa got a story of a life you won't believe (you won't)
We going out (tell 'em), with a bang
Gotta spill blood if you really wanna hang
Before you leave your house you gotta always check your mag (Pressa)
Pressa picked up every time that phone rang
Niggas bitching up you well know what you signed up for
And I'm on my block pitching shit like a pitchfork (aye, yeah)
Niggas want smoke then we turn a nigga Newport
Niggas 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 sound (brap)
Go buck wild got a glizzy it's a trey pound
When unnuh 'round suh, everyting ah fi get licked down, uh (blap, blap)
I just sold him whip down, uh
Go and learn your wrist now, uh
If you hustle make it count nuh, uh
I think I need my money count

Bloody hands (bloody), bloody feet (bloody)
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet (red)
Louboutin's looking like it's made for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them niggas want grief (they don't)
Bloody hands (bloody), bloody feet (bloody)
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet (red)
Louboutin's looking like it's made for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them niggas want grief

Bloody bloody (bloody bloody), bloody money (bloody money)
You don't even know what these niggas do for money (they'll switch)
Niggas getting money all of sudden all a suddy (suddenly)
50 on his head catch him and do it for mommy (for my mama)
Price tags, what your amount? (Pay your price)
Shoot a nigga 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 (what you got?)
Bloody feet when I'm walking out a hoe (Louboutins)
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
One, two, three, four, 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 (blap, blap)
Trigger finger so sore
Let me show you how make bloody make the billboards
I'm all about my money like my TuneCore
They want figure out me like they Filmore

Bloody hands (bloody), bloody feet (bloody)
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet (red)
Louboutin's looking like it's made for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them niggas want grief (they don't)
Bloody hands (bloody), bloody feet (bloody)
Bloody hands, bloody hands, bloody feet (red)
Louboutin's looking like it's made for me
I got shooters on they Wass if them niggas want grief

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Quinton Armani Gardner, Shane Lindstrom