Man Up
You don't wanna do dat
You don't wanna do dat
You don't wanna do dat
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Now eve'body wanna fuckin' have they own label
Wouldn't on the first shit to bring to the table
They in they own fantasy somethin' like a fable
Handicap situations all disabled
I shut 'em down, like a computer
'Cause ain't nobody fuckin' wit the super producer
Coreleone, Trill town representatives
Fuck Don P Man some of y'all too sensitive
But ya right, fuck me
But ain't 'nam day you gon' touch me
Talkin' 'bout, Don P, why you buckin'?
Man you need to chill out get to the money
I already got it and I'ma Trill nigga
I handle all my problems besides
I'm all about respectin'
I'ma man, before anybody checkin'
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
What you starin' at? This ain't no free show
You gon' make me cock back, hit ya ass in the door
You don't wanna do dat, hear dem thangs clit-clak
Goes in ya through the front, comes out through the back
Come and make my night, love to talk but hate to fight
Was you a bitch? I was a bitch, it don't go away ova night
Man up motherfucker man up
I told you once before motherfucker stand up
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Now if you niggaz keep playin', you gon' make a nigga tear a hole
Right through yo' chest, is yo' flesh, I can see yo' soul
You don't wanna do dat, I'ma hit you wit a bat
Talkin' all dat shit nigga and I'ma hit you wit da gack
Seventeen times out da barrel on my .45
Four plus five equals nine goin' through yo spine
Sit yo ass down hoe, make a move you gotta go
Erase you off da map and beat yo ass at yo own show
Ain't playin' no games wit you lames when it comes to gangsta shit
Throwin' up my middle finger, grabbin' on my own dick
Niggaz thank they slick take yo pick, which one you want?
Bullets flyin' through yo house or goin' straight through yo door
Make yo ass choke wit different strokes of my hand movements
Say dat your a G, in these streets, man you gotta prove in
Next, time I see you talkin' talkin' shit
I'ma rearrange yo mouth and put yo ass in a ditch, bitch
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
You don't wanna do dat
You don't wanna do dat
You don't wanna do dat
...
You don't wanna do dat
You don't wanna do dat
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Now eve'body wanna fuckin' have they own label
Wouldn't on the first shit to bring to the table
They in they own fantasy somethin' like a fable
Handicap situations all disabled
I shut 'em down, like a computer
'Cause ain't nobody fuckin' wit the super producer
Coreleone, Trill town representatives
Fuck Don P Man some of y'all too sensitive
But ya right, fuck me
But ain't 'nam day you gon' touch me
Talkin' 'bout, Don P, why you buckin'?
Man you need to chill out get to the money
I already got it and I'ma Trill nigga
I handle all my problems besides
I'm all about respectin'
I'ma man, before anybody checkin'
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
What you starin' at? This ain't no free show
You gon' make me cock back, hit ya ass in the door
You don't wanna do dat, hear dem thangs clit-clak
Goes in ya through the front, comes out through the back
Come and make my night, love to talk but hate to fight
Was you a bitch? I was a bitch, it don't go away ova night
Man up motherfucker man up
I told you once before motherfucker stand up
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Now if you niggaz keep playin', you gon' make a nigga tear a hole
Right through yo' chest, is yo' flesh, I can see yo' soul
You don't wanna do dat, I'ma hit you wit a bat
Talkin' all dat shit nigga and I'ma hit you wit da gack
Seventeen times out da barrel on my .45
Four plus five equals nine goin' through yo spine
Sit yo ass down hoe, make a move you gotta go
Erase you off da map and beat yo ass at yo own show
Ain't playin' no games wit you lames when it comes to gangsta shit
Throwin' up my middle finger, grabbin' on my own dick
Niggaz thank they slick take yo pick, which one you want?
Bullets flyin' through yo house or goin' straight through yo door
Make yo ass choke wit different strokes of my hand movements
Say dat your a G, in these streets, man you gotta prove in
Next, time I see you talkin' talkin' shit
I'ma rearrange yo mouth and put yo ass in a ditch, bitch
All that, talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' talkin' that shit
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
Man up motherfucker, man up
You don't wanna do dat
You don't wanna do dat
You don't wanna do dat
...
Credits
Writer(s): Jamal Glaze, Lawrence Edwards, Donnell Prince, Jonathan Lewis, Detral Treadwell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.