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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Roddy Ricch
Vocals
Fivio Foreign
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kenneth Blume III
Songwriter
Maxie Ryles
Songwriter
Nils Noehden
Songwriter
Rodrick Moore
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kenny Beats
Producer
Nils
Producer
Lyrics
[Intro]
Whoa, Kenny
[Chorus]
Murder one, murder one
I think I invented this shit from the hood, but they call me phenomenal one
I was in Miami, took her out to Tootsie's, put some dick on her tongue
Oh, lord, this 'cause she know that I'm the one, one, one
Murder one, murder one
So I put a body kit on a Rover, she ain't even gotta ask
She wanna shoot the shit like a soldier 'cause she know I got the cash
Brand new designer, gotta pull off the tag, hoppin' out the private, gotta pull off the bag
[Verse 1]
I'm the shit, huh
Live this lifestyle, I get paid to talk my shit
This ain't entertainment, ****, we got the sticks
What set is you claim? 'Cause the opps got hit, huh
Dr. Miami, come now, I gotta go get the strap, new tits
I spent a quarter mill' last year, rollin' the big dawg appeal, huh
And the plug gave me a bad baby, had to play Dr. Phil, huh
Rushin' a hundred yards, fuck a quarter back, I gotta get me a mill'
And you hate 'cause you knowin' I'm better
Water wet, should've wore an umbrella
[Chorus]
Murder one, murder one
I think I invented this shit from the hood, but they call me phenomenal one
I was in Miami, took her out to Tootsie's, put some dick on her tongue
Oh, lord, this 'cause she know that I'm the one, one, one
Murder one, murder one
So I put a body kit on a Rover, she ain't even gotta ask
She wanna shoot the shit like a soldier 'cause she know I got the cash (Uh, uh)
Brand new designer, gotta pull off the tag, hoppin' out the private, gotta pull off the bag
[Verse 2]
Murders, I keep a shooter at my service (Murders, baow)
I don't like beefin' with Gerbers, he probably tell, he makin' me nervous (Uh)
I don't wanna meet in the middle, huh, let's keep it official (Nah, yeah)
You tryna get lit off of me
Go and mention my name in your song 'cause you need me to diss you
Stop runnin' 'cause I need 'em to hit you
Ain't give me nothin' when I needed a nickel
You **** could die for not keepin' it with you
If I ain't call you, then I needed to miss you (Baow)
This shit is bussin' (This shit is bussin')
This shit a bustdown, look (This shit a bustdown, look)
If he catch a body then make it home safe and then throw it away, it's a touchdown, uh (Baow)
[Chorus]
Murder one, murder one
I think I invented this shit from the hood, but they call me phenomenal one
I was in Miami, took her out to Tootsie's, put some dick on her tongue
Oh, lord, this 'cause she know that I'm the one, one, one
Murder one, murder one
So I put a body kit on a Rover, she ain't even gotta ask
She wanna shoot the shit like a soldier 'cause she know I got the cash
Brand new designer, gotta pull off the tag, hoppin' out the private, gotta pull off the bag
Written by: Kenneth Blume III, Maxie Lee Ryles III, Rodrick Wayne Moore, Jr.