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mr 3 2 - man up lyrics

[mr. 3-2:]
it’s a brand new day, brand new year
don’t be listening to that bullsh-t, n-gg-z put in your ear
i do this i do that, hoe i get big stacks
break fools on tracks, and yes i do sell stracks
we mashing that, all of love with no money
i got too much hustle and grind, for you dummies
skinny and presidential, hooked me up with street game
put the form in together, then we will get change
these lames, all wanna know my pocket
i’m a gangsta, so reality i drop it
broads bopping, keep me up like buffet
n-gg-z jock it, always got some’ing to say
hey hey, fat domino is a pimp
mob boss chop it up, eating steak and shrimp
evidence, dogs never find no traces
got my poker face on, holding all the aces

[hook: x2]
presidential, is how i’m treated on front row
street game, are mo’f-ckers getting they do’
this world, i have you tripping scratching your head
man up, take your lick and go fed

[quest:]
i’m posted on the cut, of that mag and dwayne
them fed’s on my -ss, cause the slabs that i slang
still i hustle to pimp my pockets, with mo’ knots than a rope
still be busting no discussion, infra dot with a scope
it ain’t no hope for you b-tch n-gg-z, suckers and snitch n-gg-z
acting like b-tches with p-ss-es, running your lips n-gg-
you do the crime, you do the time
don’t make a n-gg- run up in your house, and use the nine
bust two into your spine, for telling all the real n-gg-z business
n-body can save you, when i kill no one witness
swear games with scope brains, spills from a distance
calicoes burry hoes, burn a n-gg- biscuit
you on some bennie hill sh-t, talking to laws
you gon make me come through, and put a cross on your jaw
you acting like you hard, when you know you a b-tch
when we don’t really bar, cause we know you a snitch

[hook x2]

[quest:]
presidential and street game, hooking up like feces
a million dollar mission, knocking out buster b-tches
cleaning clocks like dishes, peep the watch that glisten
stand too hard i swear to god, mayn need to stop your vision
red b-tter played the gutter, hustling cheese for fritos
while these haters sucking on p-ssy, trying to please these freak hoes
need to get your mind right, ‘fore we run in your residential
mr. 3-2 from street game, and q-u-e from presidential

[troyo:]
old mark -ss n-gg-, get your money get out my face
i’m po’ing up big mud, telling out skeet taste
a cage go for sixteen, sitting high in the sky
crawling on 22’s, this far i’m too fly
troyo, showing these boys the blue flame
d-mn right i’m street game, till the world set flame
c-ck it and aim, leaving you on your back pocket
ghetto affiliated, and fools they can’t stop it

[talking:]
street p-o-p mayn, ghetto affiliates
willie what’s up baby uh, 3-2 it go down mayn
(it go down, mr. mr. f-cking your sister
you know me, ok what’s up with it
we got the juke around this motherf-cker, yeah-yeah)

- mr 3 2 lyrics

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