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mr 3 2 - mafia convention lyrics

[talking]
ha-ha 2001 mr. 3-2, boss of all bosses b-tch
thought i was going somewhere, motherf-cking right
i’m going to the god d-mn bank, know i’m saying
keep on talking down, you gon have a d-ck in ya mouth

[mr. 3-2]
talking sh-t, will get your -ss kicked quick
f-cking with the g-o-v, n-gg- i’d do the hit
immigrate ya misplace ya, now they can’t find ya
princess cut invisible set, gon blind ya
boss of all bosses, number one mob boss
and everybody wanna know, what mr. 3-2 brought
f-ck my head a couple times, i’ma chunk it up as a loss
they screaming like it’s the end though, i’ma f-ck ya off
from the north to the south, i demand my respect
man i’ma wreck, but ain’t no plex
like dead for a motherf-cker, to call me out my name
governor down south, southerner street game
everything’s gravy, baby we in the do’
so i’ma get it while it’s good, even break a couple do’s
real playas get chose, sw-ng down on 4’s
and i got more broads, than versacci goglows

[hook x2]
the mafia convention, is some sh-t i gotta mention
boys talking down on my name, like some hoes they be b-tching
i’m just itching, ready to scratch
big ol’ heavyweighter, so it ain’t no match

[mr. 3-2]
ready to scratch ready to sn-tch ya, out of the frame
i ain’t bout to leave ya no fame, so i say no names
use to be my ace boo-koo, my number one nig’
but for that devilish sh-t you did, i oughtta kidnapped ya lil’ kids
get rid, of your -ss forever
delete ya mistreat ya, and teach ya with the baretta
boys is scared of, mr.-mr. 3-2
sipping on green mixed with rootbeer, a&w
show my raw naked -ss, on stage for real
f-cking with that killuminati, donny smith steel
now i chill kick back, counting hundred dollar bills
what’s the deal pop the seel, ride down on ya like it’s kill
x pills and hydro ponic, blowing a hunk of chronic
n-body know where i sleep b-tch, ya can’t find me
every major wanna sign me, i’m thinking seven or eight digits
greedy for the green, i gotta have a couple of mill tickets

[hook x2]

[mr. 3-2]
loyal to my people, i call family
the ones who got love for me, unconditionally
listen to me, the s.u.c. we clicked up
play p-ssy in these h-town streets, ya get bucked
on the come up, staying down
southside mobster, connected underground
out of town networking, putting up clientele
we the sh-t f-cking your b-tch, and got the whole sale
oh well we shot calling, triple balling moving fast
in these days of the last, that they hated on the mash
i want it all and then some, living like a savage
don’t play ya games at all, down and dirty for the cabbage
25 point of karats, gl-ssy ice on the piece
eight thousand dollar drank, lost it in the streets
i know the sh-t weak, that was out of control
play with me if you want to, i’ma knock you out and go

[hook x2]

[talking]
two dollar gangsta -ss n-gg-z, rotten -ss hoes

- mr 3 2 lyrics

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