The Game – Murder lyrics

[Verse 1: The Game]
Starin’ at Marilyn Monroe’s silhouette while smokin’ my first cigarette
Listenin’ to Marvin ask his father about his death
How you shoot a nigga out, then shoot a nigga out?
Dead bodies in my dreams, Bob Marley on my couch
Pass me the blunt, he was smokin’ when he died
You really think Elvis Presley committed suicide?
I don’t…
It’s either kill or you be killed
Ten pints of blood per human, ain’t no refills
One thing about us humans, nigga, we kill
Turkeys, chickens, pigs, each other, fuck us, we will
Take a life, lethal injection or free will
Tookie got murdered by the pigs, fuck did he kill?
That ain’t none of my business, though
But I’m the type of motherfucker make it his business, so
Open the book and turn that page
It reads Arthur Ashe died from aids, no
That’s murder, nigga

[Hook: Kendrick Lamar]
Murder…
Gunfire, death is so quiet, ask why, tell ‘em it’s
Murder…
The sun rise then hide by grey skies, that cry sounds like
Murder…
Murder, murder, murder, murder
Murder, murder, murder, murder

[Verse 2: The Game]
Malcolm X standing on that stage
It was staged for him to see that gauge…
Murder, nigga
Doctor King outside that room
Who knew that he would die that soon?
That’s murder, nigga
Jfk sittin’ in that drop
He waved goodbye, then they blew off his top
It’s murder, nigga
Diddy seen Big, and Suge watched Pac
They both was ridin’ passenger when they got shot, it’s murder
Who the fuck killed Michael Jackson, his physician?
He died slow in his music, you ain’t really listen
Now his daughter gettin’ slapped by his sister
And that’s probably gon’ kill they mama
So I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, I’m sorry Ms. Houston, sissy
Might she'd a tear but ain’t no sissy
‘Cause Whitney’s sill with me
And her death kinda hurt a nigga
So let’s get back to talkin’ ‘bout murder, nigga
John Lennon got shot in the back
And Paul Mccartney couldn’t do shit ‘bout that
‘Cause it was murder, nigga
Listen, this ain’t about you and me
It’s about Trayvon Martin and Huey P.
And how they shot down Sam Cooke
Twelve years of school and it ain’t in one damn book
Lee Harvey Oswald ‘bout to serve a sentence
From the crowd comes a revolver
That’s murder, nigga

[Hook:]

[Verse 3: Scarface]
Gaspin’ for air, niggas cling on
Tryin’ to fight the inevitable, sing on
You hear that fat lady warmin’ up?
The end came without a warning, huh?
Them niggas real with them rags on
Niggas get killed ‘bout them flags, homes
The Game told you what the play was
So it don’t matter what you say, cuz
Say Blood, these niggas livin’ what they die by
You out here playin’ while these niggas doin’ drive-bys
If murder was the case that they gave Snoop
Then how the fuck you think they gon’ save you?
Them niggas played you
You doin’ stand up
You a comedian there, boy, put your hands up
Don’t turn this to a 1-8-7
I have you leanin’ on the stairway to Heaven
Spittin’ blood, these are tales from the hood
Suicide sound quicker, but a murder sounds good
Wish a motherfucker would try to play me like a toy
You get a bullet in your motherfuckin’ head, homeboy
The people sayin’ that a drug overdose killed Hendrix
They bullshitted…
It was murder
Or a plane crash killed Otis Redding
That’s how they said it, but it was murder
The cops kill us at alarming rates
They point they guns at the ones they hate
If Bin Laden brought the World Trade down
Then how the fuck did he die just now?
Murder, murder

Murder…
Murder kill kill
They killin’ motherfuckers still
And I’m just tellin’ y’all the real
Nigga, murder murder murder
Nigga, kill kill kill
For real

[Hook:]