Lyrics of '1st Degree Murder' by Jae Millz

It's millz
You know what this sound like?
This sound like the part of the movie where the monster is chasing the lady at the end, right?
And she like almost get away and she falls
And you know what happen after that
Yo yo!

Here go his address, don't worry, I'll send the squad with ya
If anybody asks tell em large mark sent ya
I know the game like a card dealer
My bitch head good like a debarge member
Life's a bitch but I spar with er
All about my music and my money like guitar center
My youngin on the steep sittin with the pump
On that little duck shit like this ain't what you want
All them 2 dads 12, that's where the fuck I'm from
Potent gangbang bang, fuck her one on one
Every day you saw me fly when the bell rung
Now every day I'm on that same shit from when I was young

Check me out tho

How you wanna do it? 2 door or the 4?
Pull up in some shit from the showroom floor
Girl I crash into that pussy, hope that thing ensured
Put yo ass to sleep, you'll wake up like you see me lawd
Medicated in my dutch but ain't nothing wrong
You could call kirk hannon cause ain't nothing wrong
I done made a couple dollars off a couple songs
Invested that into my team, now we fuckin on
Got a girl in wash heights, all about a bitch
Cook up coke, do wash and sex out the same crib
I use to beat that caporero from 1-56
Now I'm probably in beauty in essex with yo bitch
Uptown til I die, nigga what it is?
She love a harlem nigga, even made a couple kids
No credit but I know niggas who swipe for real
Insane in the membrane cypress millz

I'm all the way, all the way gone nigga, I mean far away
So far away I'm already getting head tomorrow today
Rewind that back, don't barbiturate
Bombs away, I mean bars away
Why these little niggas wanna start to play
I was powered off, who started me
I don't know but one thing I do now (what's that?)
Is these boys better move on, ver
Cause I might spazz and who knows
Well you know, I'm stuntin like nothing
Like ever before that you ever saw

Ready for war, no paint on my face
Don't take my floor, g niggas is frauds
Minus the badge you niggas is broads
Go against me, you hittin the wall
Crash dummy, go visit the morgue
Music make a lay, rapper spirit is off
You ain't say shit while you get it regardless
You so back on that other shit
Much think of all you bitch niggas
That been running round on that sucka shit
I see you

But I'm a act like I don't know
Rich street nigga you can act like a dope straight
Murdering the yea but don't act like a wall
These niggas ain't ill, back to the drones
I think I better shoot using half of my dome
Groupie ass hoe, you chase after the boner
I'm not after the pussy, I'm after the tumbles
My girl bust it open soon as I get home
You still talkin shit, man I'm laughing at home
Niggas is lame with no sense of style

Just get a style, let's leave fashion alone
Reality of the situation – that's what you facin
We sharp shit, no shellcase and no evidence
No building cases, no courtdating no nothing
Them niggas hating, man fuck em
These niggas ain't pimpin they coffins
It's millz, put yo favorite rapper in the oven and cook him

Don't you want the truth?
Go to your guru
Go to yourselves
Because that's the only place you
Ever gonna find any real truth