| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 1:55 | 
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What up though?
Murs, 9th Wonder Murray's Revenge! Y'all know what time it is Shut your fat.. nah Watch your mouth and lower your tone and keep your hand on that cell phone We back Now my day in the sun has come, the one chosen To break up the ice that got the rap world frozen Speak that slang that'll heat up the game Now, roll down your window turn the beat up, it bang Feelin' the breeze Let the world know they still makin' real MC's So please, make a call, tell your friend, tell the hood That we back and revenge never sounded so good Questionin' 9th about choppin' vocal samples I chop you in your throat 'til you choke on the answer Nice with this mic since I was broke and handsome 'Til I get my respect I'm holdin' dope for ransom From the West coast, everything I flow's an anthem A&R's who slept are now throwin' a tantrum Hand 'em over boys, your jewels and your girls Bow down to the sound cause "Murs Rules the World" I'm better than your favorite rapper But it don't take much these days for you to master the mic Most of these rappers trapped in the hype They makin whole albums, only half of it's tight So they never really have an impact on your life That's why "3:16" was genius We all connected through this "Minstrel Show" man, I mean it Until my days end I'm gettin' paid my friend Without pimpin' my soul, the gangster limpin' was old So I "Walk Like a Man" and, talk to my fans Clocked a few grand but you gotta understand I got a little money and I, coulda bought a chain But my momma woulda killed me, simple and plain Exchange foreign currency, for legal tender Now I'm back to end the era of the great pretender So pull your pants up and, turn that noise down It's Murs and 9th Wonder on the second go 'round |
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| 2. |
| 2:39 |
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And I'm the four-letter word that you don't bleep out
Got a question for you rappers rollin' wit'cha heats out Is this really where you wanna be when Jesus come back? Lyin' 'bout your life, over beats comin' whack? And you say I'm backpack, cause I don't have a gat Man I just love life, and I'm dealin' with the facts I'm young, I'm gifted, I'm beautiful and black And my momma didn't raise no fool like that I understand that you broke, you tryin' to get money But you don't start gangbangin' in your mid-20's Don't know nothin 'bout the beef, or the gang that you claimin' You ain't even worth namin! But I got a right hook that'll vacate your Timberlands Take this outside, set it straight like gentlemen I do feel the music so I kinda respect it But don't confuse ill lyrics with real street credit, c'mon What 'chu gon' do man, ha? Get knocked out I'm real official like a referee with a whistle boy Get it right man My man Murs yo shut these cats down, holla! I got my wallet in my pocket and my money in my sock Cause that's how it be when it's funny on the block Like it be on TV when these dummies try to rock With they secondhand flows like they runnin' on a clock In a one minute cycle, I'm done with the rifles The tecs, the 9's, the killers, the psychos Look, now can we party? And I want a Shirley Temple cause I don't drink Bacardis But in a minute I'ma probably Try to holla at a hottie with a, nice shaped body If she's into what I'm into we should worship at my temple I'ma, grind from behind as we wind to the tempo If she break it down slow, then it feel like mo' That's a Mayfield line for all of y'all who don't know All I do is have fun and bring life to the fans And I, don't need a gun cause I'm nice with my hands, c'mon Nice with my hands dog, never seen the floor man Ask somebody, check the stats! Murs man, yo get at these fools though Let 'em know what's good baby, woo! We shocked the world last year when, nobody heard of me My boy he got skills that's like, musical surgery Me you know the deal I'm a lyrical emergency We keepers of the real, just consider us security Of the world, 9th, somethin' like top flight As long as we in control everything's alright While the rest will steer you wrong with them songs that they thought up I wrestle with these words but I'm never gettin' caught up In the drama and the BS Jumped up out the underground, you know I gotta be fresh Rhymes runnin' through my mind all day, I press eject I gotta lay 'em down on these beats cause they need wreck Yes, I'm back for the title And I brought an iron fist, just to smack all your rivals Woulda thought I ran track, the way I ran through my rivals Man I swear I'm the truth, slap my hand on the bible Let's go |
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| 3. |
| 3:47 | 
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| 4. |
| 4:28 |
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| 5. |
| 3:35 |
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| 6. |
| 2:34 |
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I'm only 9, on the block
Bailin' to the liquor store with 2 dollars in my socks Say "cause" when I talk, pants sag when I walk Bumpin' K-DAY, just discovered hip-hop I play Pop Warner and I love Transformers But you see the big homey standin' out on the corner He got real guns, not the ones from G.I. Joe He feared and respected like everywhere we go Can't wait 'til I'm 10 and I get jumped in You should see the tattoo he gave himself with pen He did in the pen like 3 years ago And he just got home, now he bigger than befo' Liftin' weights in the yard he, way too hard Been shot 5 times, even let me touch the scars I can ride in his car when I get from the hood A fresh Iroc with a dope Kenwood Two 15's and his curl on sheen A big booty freak with some airbrushed jeans Don't dis put the hood in your childhood dreams Growin' up these days ain't as easy as it seems [Chorus] We live life like death ain't a thing Fear and respect we collect like kings Relive stress with every breath I sing And we all chase money cause we scared to chase dreams 19, almost 20 years old Cut the baby curl, now I got an afro Cornrows, some say french braids Weed and robberies the only way I get paid Couldn't slang crack, O.G.'s do that So money hungry wouldn't front me a sack That's why the old timers keep gettin' jacked I'm full time bangin' ain't no turnin' back Dropped out of school, no G.E.D But in these streets I'm a G-O-D Enemies tell they B.G. stories 'bout me A nightmare, when I'm off that P That's why they always run when they see me in the street Known to beat 'em down, straight take they heat What about the police, man even they scared When I see ya hit the block I put 2 in the air Got my momma scared of me And she's the only woman the would ever dare to love me Respect from my peers, on the set 10 years Bonafide so I hide my regrets and my fears On the front porch buzzin' High that's probably why I didn't even see 'em comin' 5 rounds to the chest now I'm fightin' for my life Cause some fool from the other side, wanted stripes Flatline Flatline |
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| 7. |
| 2:49 |
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I'm from L dot A dot Californ-I-A hot
Days got shade let me take you 'round the way Lot of out-of-towners can't handle this city Where you wear the wrong color and it can get tricky But that was eighty-six and, things done changed We a lot mo' evolved with the way that we bang Not the rips and the dogs, man the smog might kill ya But you ain't gotta worry if you stayin' north of Wilshire Don't be scared of Crenshaw, the Slausson super-mall Or Earl's Hot Dogs man you gotta do it y'all, c'mon Come to the hood where we do the most good Magic Johnson be ownin everything like he should Lynnwood, Long Beach, Hawthorne, Gardener From the towers in Watts, to the hills of Alta Dena The home of the traffic and that gangbang culture And I hope the way we do the damn thing don't insult ya [Chorus: x2] I'm from L.A. (ah) Southern California Fool the West coast, where everybody is somebody And the game is fame, do everything with a bang And everybody wanna know, what set you claim The land where the six-fo's, hop up and get low Your favorite rapper gettin' jacked for more than his sick flows Home of the pornos, we mess up award shows The weather's always warm so the women wear short clothes Our beaches ain't the cleanest but the {ahh} is the greenest And we got the blonde bombshells and sick latinas Then mix in the dark-skinned light-skinned sisters Where you never have to wear your triple goose on Christmas You can miss us with the blizzards and the winters The hurricanes unless it's in some glasses with some actresses Perfect frame, silicone or real it don't matter if she paid for it Every single trend you can probably thank L.A. for it Bandannas, face lifts, quick trips to Vegas White t-shirt, Chuck Taylor's or them K-Swiss Pop lockin', Crip walkin', chronic blunts, G-Funk A place that everybody hate, but you gotta see once [Chorus] |
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| 8. |
| 3:13 |
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| 9. |
| 4:27 |
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| 10. |
| 2:42 |
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I'm a, hood legend, you should feel threatened
Front I'ma show you what's good in a second The best in the business, I mean what is it? The dopest MC to walk talk it and live it A wide bright screen with a blockbuster signature Every new line I speak should be in cinemas Champion sound, I win with words Like you finally talked your girl into sleepin' with a friend of hers Oh yeah, I'm off on a good one Momma's so proud of what her boy from the hood done Got off the meat and I got my mind right, I Got out these streets I got my grind like I Got on these beats I gotta come tight it's Gotta be me, it's gotta be 9th Your boy dropped some stuff and it was probably nice But they need a little help, and a lot of advice Quit while you're ahead, you ain't seein' no bread and Don't sleep on us, you can sleep when you're dead And grateful, you didn't live life hateful Change for the better like the weather in April Food for the soul, go ahead and grab a plateful A heart full of hate, is a waste and disgraceful Uh, don't ingest, turn your stomach When a brother only wanna see another brother plummet Come with cha best and you can lose like the rest Straight shots when I shoot how we do on the West Yeah! You know who we might be, man myth or M-C But Murs sums it up best now, wouldn't you agree? I, stuck to the plate like it's And1 and straight Sew the mic around your neck and then bounce it off your face With grace, the ace in the hole, replacin the old Cause the new generation got a taste for some soul Hold on to opinions 'til I tell you to have one That mic wasn't hot until the spot 'til I grabbed one Off the stand now it's off the hook And when the beat is this nuts, then I'm off the books Meaning, off the head, freestylin' makin' bread And I shoulda been in a movie but I made my own instead Still pioneering with this independent hustle And your mic cord is much too short for you to tussle For the man that pro like 40-Water, poured in remembrance Of every hood soldier that died in ghetto tenements Innocent 'til proven guilty Should I die don't look for the dude that killed me Look for a brighter tomorrow, and in spite of the sorrow Live every moment to the fullest so your life isn't hollow And you can holla out my name from the top of the game And since you passed homey I promise I'll do the same For if a soul is avenged through the deeds of a friend Then success has always been the best form of revenge THE END |
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