Body Parts 3 (Screwed and Chopped)
Crunchy Blac, Boogie Mane, Frayser Boy, Lil' Wyte, Chrome
Granddaddy Souf, Juicy J, Project Pat, DJ Paul the king of Memphis
Cock 'em up
Hypnotized minds, HCP, hypnotized camp posse
We finna do this for all you thievin' ass
Wanna be us ass niggaz out there
Stealin' motherfucker, take ya fake asses on nigga keep it real nigga
Make this money like we makin' it nigga, throw it down
Ain't never been a motherfuckin' bitch
Hypnotized here just to get that grip
Y'all niggaz talk 'cuz ya talk like a bitch
Y'all niggaz walk 'cuz ya walk like a bitch
Now ain't that some shit ya hatin' on this click
You gon' make a nigga get up with cha kid
Split yo wig oh yes, I did
I told you, you don't want it with a hard hitta kid
I done warned the glock spot to spot hit the locks
Hit a nigga for his stash spot
Took the rock nigga was got that was the plot
Dodge the cops they labeled it another closing shop
Open it up for closin' it up I don't give a fuck
On a daily basis I be postin' it up
Smokin' it up choppin' it to match it wit dub
Give us a club six mane tearin' it up
These niggaz misleaded I'mma throw the first blow
Leave a nigga shirt soaked playin' getcha merked hoe
Chop it yeah, I hope folk money what I work fo'
Paul and Juicy sent me gotta put you in the dirt bro
Comin' with the pistols is easy we can get you guys
Frayser boy bizzle or beezy it's the hypnotize
HCP them my folks weed got my eyes low
If you know what I know run that shit to my doe
We back motherfucker we smack motherfuckers
If you step in our way killaz attack motherfucker
But ya'll know ya'll done heard all that befo'
Y'all done seen the fo-fos and folks kick in ya doe
You done seen the gauge pump bout to see a Chevy trunk
Lights out next to the Mississippi river plumped
Duck tape hog tied wrong place wrong time
Hypnotized minds trick knocked ya up off ya grind
All my muhfuckers you niggaz should already know
I'm the truth and out the booth never been a hoe
Get yo ass flipped sideways cut ya through the doe
You ain't know I'm a young rich gangsta nigga
Never been one of them old type wanksta niggaz
I'm a smart muhfucka ask my mama who made me
A lotta niggaz mad 'cuz they know they can't fade me
I'm Chrome Carleone Paul and Juicy who pay me
Well it's ya boy grandaddy call me Mr. Man
Fuckin' ya aunties ya nieces and ya mammies
See I could give a fuck about ya tossin' all ya tough talkin'
You don't like me nigga hit me in my mouth
Man don't talk about it be about it get cha point across then
Candy ass nigga boy you softer than cotton
Fight me or squash it 'cuz I ain't 'bout the spit boxin'
Hootin and hollerin' like a cheerleader squadron
You can't be like me slangin' D 'cuz I'm hurtin' ya
No competition with the juice 'cuz it's curtains
It ain't nothin' shakin' but some pimps in this bizitch
That's why you muggin' and yo face lookin' pizzissed
Stay flippin' cars ballin' out like to shizine
You stay askin' questions how the hell them niggaz do that
We smoke the best of dro while she down with some jack-jack
My eyes like the red carpet still on the blue side
They locked me up just like 2Pac and I went platinium
Laid it down for a calendar I'm right back at 'em
Took my game then weighed it up on a triple beam
Niggaz rob, kill, murder steal for that ghetty green
U.S. marshal at my folks house want to kill me dead
Wanna see me in a pine box bullet in my head
I'm was like, "I ain't did shit why you hatin' this?"
Ghetto thugs know my rap songs they relate to this
I been doin' this too long to still be strugglin' livin' like this
Fuckin' off with major labels slayed me like a bitch
And these got cheese and ride on rolls it mean hoes
But still on the road doin' free shows
Tryna get a few spins in a few spots
I growed up back in the day I wouldn't use my glock
I hear a lotta corny shit on the radio
That's because they record company wouldn't spend dough
Yeah, my label got a up with MTV
But they just keep forgettin' to tell 'em 'bout me
They try to play like its love and it's family
But all my marketin' dollars goin' to, shh
Tear da club up was the first crunk fight song
I made that in 92 a lil' not long
That it took 10 million sold and we still ain't on
That's why three 6 is the most known unknowns
Granddaddy Souf, Juicy J, Project Pat, DJ Paul the king of Memphis
Cock 'em up
Hypnotized minds, HCP, hypnotized camp posse
We finna do this for all you thievin' ass
Wanna be us ass niggaz out there
Stealin' motherfucker, take ya fake asses on nigga keep it real nigga
Make this money like we makin' it nigga, throw it down
Ain't never been a motherfuckin' bitch
Hypnotized here just to get that grip
Y'all niggaz talk 'cuz ya talk like a bitch
Y'all niggaz walk 'cuz ya walk like a bitch
Now ain't that some shit ya hatin' on this click
You gon' make a nigga get up with cha kid
Split yo wig oh yes, I did
I told you, you don't want it with a hard hitta kid
I done warned the glock spot to spot hit the locks
Hit a nigga for his stash spot
Took the rock nigga was got that was the plot
Dodge the cops they labeled it another closing shop
Open it up for closin' it up I don't give a fuck
On a daily basis I be postin' it up
Smokin' it up choppin' it to match it wit dub
Give us a club six mane tearin' it up
These niggaz misleaded I'mma throw the first blow
Leave a nigga shirt soaked playin' getcha merked hoe
Chop it yeah, I hope folk money what I work fo'
Paul and Juicy sent me gotta put you in the dirt bro
Comin' with the pistols is easy we can get you guys
Frayser boy bizzle or beezy it's the hypnotize
HCP them my folks weed got my eyes low
If you know what I know run that shit to my doe
We back motherfucker we smack motherfuckers
If you step in our way killaz attack motherfucker
But ya'll know ya'll done heard all that befo'
Y'all done seen the fo-fos and folks kick in ya doe
You done seen the gauge pump bout to see a Chevy trunk
Lights out next to the Mississippi river plumped
Duck tape hog tied wrong place wrong time
Hypnotized minds trick knocked ya up off ya grind
All my muhfuckers you niggaz should already know
I'm the truth and out the booth never been a hoe
Get yo ass flipped sideways cut ya through the doe
You ain't know I'm a young rich gangsta nigga
Never been one of them old type wanksta niggaz
I'm a smart muhfucka ask my mama who made me
A lotta niggaz mad 'cuz they know they can't fade me
I'm Chrome Carleone Paul and Juicy who pay me
Well it's ya boy grandaddy call me Mr. Man
Fuckin' ya aunties ya nieces and ya mammies
See I could give a fuck about ya tossin' all ya tough talkin'
You don't like me nigga hit me in my mouth
Man don't talk about it be about it get cha point across then
Candy ass nigga boy you softer than cotton
Fight me or squash it 'cuz I ain't 'bout the spit boxin'
Hootin and hollerin' like a cheerleader squadron
You can't be like me slangin' D 'cuz I'm hurtin' ya
No competition with the juice 'cuz it's curtains
It ain't nothin' shakin' but some pimps in this bizitch
That's why you muggin' and yo face lookin' pizzissed
Stay flippin' cars ballin' out like to shizine
You stay askin' questions how the hell them niggaz do that
We smoke the best of dro while she down with some jack-jack
My eyes like the red carpet still on the blue side
They locked me up just like 2Pac and I went platinium
Laid it down for a calendar I'm right back at 'em
Took my game then weighed it up on a triple beam
Niggaz rob, kill, murder steal for that ghetty green
U.S. marshal at my folks house want to kill me dead
Wanna see me in a pine box bullet in my head
I'm was like, "I ain't did shit why you hatin' this?"
Ghetto thugs know my rap songs they relate to this
I been doin' this too long to still be strugglin' livin' like this
Fuckin' off with major labels slayed me like a bitch
And these got cheese and ride on rolls it mean hoes
But still on the road doin' free shows
Tryna get a few spins in a few spots
I growed up back in the day I wouldn't use my glock
I hear a lotta corny shit on the radio
That's because they record company wouldn't spend dough
Yeah, my label got a up with MTV
But they just keep forgettin' to tell 'em 'bout me
They try to play like its love and it's family
But all my marketin' dollars goin' to, shh
Tear da club up was the first crunk fight song
I made that in 92 a lil' not long
That it took 10 million sold and we still ain't on
That's why three 6 is the most known unknowns
Credits
Writer(s): Jordan Houston, Paul D Beauregard, Cedric Coleman, Darnell Carlton, Booker Hunt, Patrick Lanshaw, Anson D Watts, D. Pannell, Patrick Houston
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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