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Murda Talk Lyrics – NLE Choppa

Murda Talk Lyrics by NLE Choppa is latest English song with music also given by Bobby “Keyz” Reese, Javar Rockamore & Caleb McLean. Murda Talk song lyrics are written by Bobby “Keyz” Reese, Javar Rockamore, Caleb McLean & NLE Choppa.

Murda Talk Lyrics - NLE Choppa

Murda Talk Song Detail

Singer: NLE Choppa
Composer: Bobby “Keyz” Reese, Javar Rockamore & Caleb McLean
Lyrics by: Bobby “Keyz” Reese, Javar Rockamore, Caleb McLean & NLE Choppa

Murda Talk NLE Choppa


Th-th-th-think we found a loophole
A hunnid shottas, two oppas, I bet these Glock I pop ’em (I bet I do)
A hunnid shottas, two oppas, I bet these Glock I pop ’em (I bet I do)
A hunnid shottas, two oppas, I bet these Glock I pop ’em

Ayy, I think lil’ homie scared, fool, he say, “I’m ready, fool” (Ready, fool)
So I gave him that lil’ dirty tool, he say he finish dude (He got the Glock, nigga)
Say he caught him slippin’, got the clip and knocked him out his shoes (Grrt, sayin’)
Mommas cryin’, niggas dyin’, pussy, that’s what shottas do, (Ayy, shottas)
Creep on your block, real slow (Slow), ten on my window (Window)
Mask on, gloves on (Gloves, hey), you know that clip extendo (Extendo)
And don’t let down the window (Ayy), open up the door and chase his ass (The fuck you doin’?)
Put two up in his back and then I walk ’em down and face his ass (Grrt, grrt, grrt)
Said he want some smoke (Yeah), well, you know I had to lace his ass (Yeah, yeah)
Opposition’s hoe gave me throat as she was shakin’ ass (What? What? Yeah)
My pops said, “Don’t give him that Glock ’cause you know he gon’ fuckin’ cry” (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
If a nigga catch me in a jam, you know I let it ride (Skrrt, grrt)
It’s my life or your, pussy nigga, I’m gon’ let me decide
We shoot first, we don’t shoot back (Nope), so you niggas better duck and hide (Grrt, grrt)
I got the Drac’ in trench coats (Ayy), send shots up through the window (Ayy)
I got a Glock, a [?] four (Ayy), we pop his top and then we go (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Traffickin’ birds like Nino (Ayy), we leave him lost like Nemo (Ayy)
All-black attire, emo (Ayy), short time to live like chemo (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
If the number’s right, your nigga kill you (Ooh), call it bingo (I bet he did it)
You better watch your lingo (Brrt), my niggas slide for G-note (Brrt, I made him do it)
I need to slow down on them thirties (Hey), ’cause I’m keep throwin’ up (I’m throwin’ up)
I threw back two of them bitches (Bah), so it gave me bubble guts
Ayy, I got my pistol with me (Ayy), got the semi with me (Brrt)
Ridin’ in the hemi (Yeah, yeah)
I was thuggin’ hard in juvenile (Ayy), I had the rules bendin’ (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
He like, “Damn, you left that clip empty? (What?) Yeah, I left that clip empty (Stupid)
Yeah, I’m killer so come tempt me (Duh)
Memphis shooter like the Grizzlies (Go)
Shoot his baby mama in his chest (Grrt, grrt), damn near knocked the titty (Uh)
I’m off a couple fuckin’ Percocets (Ooh), I feel my body lifted (Ayy)
Why the fuck that boy, he got a vest? (Ayy) We pop his top and dip it (Ayy)
Drive-by in a Honda Civic so they know lil’ Choppa did it (Ayy, brrt)
Hop out, boys on the block (Get up), niggas ran like they seen the knock (Brrt, yeah, ah, yeah)
Hit him in his thigh (Boom), hit him in his back, make him drop
Oh, he still alive? Let me finish that
Pop his top (What), I don’t fantasize, them bodies in my mind (Huh, huh)
And I can’t stop (Huh, huh), uh, nigga know I keep a Glock, yeah (Huh, huh, ayy)
Nigga (Ayy), fuck, how we gon’ buck, nigga, fuck, nigga (Ayy)
Brrt (Ayy), nigga, fuck nigga (We takin’ trees), bust, nigga, brrt (Ayy)
You know we bust triggers (Ayy), fuck, nigga
(Brrt, brrt-brrt, brrt, brrt-brrt, brrt-brrt-brrt)

Murda Talk Song Video