Murder Musik Freddie Dredd

[Intro]
Talkin’ out ya- talkin’ out ya-
Talkin’ out ya- talkin’ out ya-

[Chorus]
Rock off my Glock, feel the barrel on ya head
Now you thinkin’ to yourself, that I never should’ve said
“Freddie, please, I wanna leave, I just wanna go back home”
“I be crying on the floor, Freddie, please, no more”

[Verse 1]
Talk- talkin’ out ya ass, I’m talking all about my gun
And you know I cannot lie to you, I think you better run
Freddie pop up in your place, and whip the smile off your face
‘Bout to leave without a trace, and a grin I can’t erase

[Verse 2]
Thought never bought, gotta get my guala
You ain’t my father, ain't no dougie, now just give me monеy
You fucking with me bitch, my .50 kinky, I'm so shifty
I'm freaky, you weaky, cannot comе here, now meet me
Bossed up, cock up fuck I cock it loaded to me
Far from home, I want to roam, until I hit them doonies
I've got my strap, I've got my .8 talking, you know I'm shooting
The Freddie booming out while working on improvement