Play No Games

Mr. 3-2

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    (*talking*)
    Uh-huh mo'fucker, it go down
    ha-ha-ha, ain't nothing funny bout it busy boy

    [Mr. 3-2]
    Big Bossing flossing, putting niggaz in line
    Respect my mind, or respect the trusty glock nine
    Lay you down in a nasty bitch, made bastards
    Consider me a hazard, send fools to they casket
    Mashing, keeping my foot on a nigga's neck
    Slap em all Texas, keep mo'fuckers in check
    Right fuck you off, leave you for the tow truck
    Best raise up, cause you bound to get touched
    Clutch on triggers, and hit niggaz with lead
    Grieving over my homies, I put guys to bed
    Ahead on top, calling all the shots
    Rather free on the streets, with my eyes on the plot
    Burn not if you scared, you know you ain't hard
    Bitch made like a broad, hoe niggaz they get scarred
    I don't barred, for all that plex you talking bout
    Looking for protection, from the Boss of the South

    [Hook - 2x]
    I'ma hurt me a nigga, merk me a nigga
    Let his ass have it, and take all his figgas
    I don't play no games, with boys for the bread
    I start thinking bout killing you, busting your head

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    [Mr. 3-2]
    Get em up hit you up, with the pitchforks
    Put the flame to the torch, I hold my own court
    In the street with the heat, and burn you to the cross
    Put holes in your body, to straight fuck you off
    Big Boss, G-O-V tre deuce
    I'm winning pop off, it get ugly and gruesome
    Houston T-E-X, I ain't scared of no jacker
    Deep in the underworld, don't consider me a rapper
    Slap a nigga face, catch a case like what
    When I bust the mack, it's like busting a nut
    Pimp a slut, and get nothing but cash up out her
    Drop her, like a brand new top on a Eldorado
    I dot her for fool, come up at me wrong
    Cause I'll end his life, and talk about it on a song
    Microphones, another way I release some stress
    Besides fucking a bad bitch, or putting holes in your chest

    [Hook - 2x]

    [Frosty]
    Hey mayn, you know it's me
    It's that killer, of the F-L-A-T
    Double L gangsta, say brah
    Late with my change, and I'ma have to bang ya
    Take no shorts, or no losses
    You fuck over Freeze, you'll be picking out your coffin
    Bullets they coming fast, and they coming often
    Who, wants to try me
    Pick a number, you might win the lottery
    To get your ass whooped, or your face stomped
    Ask the Flats, I go hard
    Head nigga in charge, H-N-I-C
    Everytime I touch the mic, I go hard
    And, I do not bar
    Small coming fast, I'll have you screaming oh Lord
    Stop him, get him away
    Mayday mayday, gunplay gunplay
    What, Black Sunday Sunday
    Going against me, is like a one way one way
    I live by the gun, and I die by the gun nigga

    [Hook - 2x]

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