Mr 3-2 - Mafia Convention lyrics

rate me

[talking]

Ha-ha 2001 Mr. 3-2, boss of all bosses bitch

Thought I was going somewhere, motherfucking right

I'm going to the god damn bank, know I'm saying

Keep on talking down, you gon have a dick in ya mouth

[Mr. 3-2]

Talking shit, will get your ass kicked quick

Fucking with the G-O-V, nigga 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

Fuck my head a couple times, I'ma chunk it up as a loss

They screaming like it's the end though, I'ma fuck 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 motherfucker, 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, swang down on 4's

And I got more broads, than Versacci goglows

[Hook x2]

The mafia convention, is some shit I gotta mention

Boys talking down on my name, like some hoes they be bitching

I'm just itching, ready to scratch

Big ol' heavyweighter, so it ain't no match

[Mr. 3-2]

Ready to scratch ready to snatch 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 shit you did, I oughtta kidnapped ya lil' kids

Get rid, of your ass 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 ass, on stage for real

Fucking 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

Nobody know where I sleep bitch, 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 pussy 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 shit fucking your bitch, 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, glassy ice on the piece

Eight thousand dollar drank, lost it in the streets

I know the shit 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 ass niggaz, rotten ass hoes