Three 6 Mafia - Unknown lyrics

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Three 6 Mafia - Unknown lyrics

(DJ Paul, intro) Finally! I got all real n***as on a motherf**in' posse song! n***as that's down to cut some motherf**in heads! From here to ATL, to Nashville, back to the M-Town, n***a And you know what that means, b**h! Makin' easy money, pimpin' hoes is serious, b**h Makin' easy money, pimpin' hoes is serious, n***a! (Verse 1, Project Pat) Call a n***a, drug dealer Out here on the track n***a Weed smoker, coke snorter Come and get a pack, n***a 'Cain slanger, b**h banger Dogg I bring it to ya If you got a problem wit' me Holla at my Luger 'Dro puffer, cheese cuffer When we on the jack-jack Hit'cha in the head wit' that Gat Til' ya skull crack Blood gushin', head-rushin' At first, no discussion Come wit' that bullsh** Then them bullets start bustin' (Verse 2, k**a Klan Kaze) First crime, we came wit' "Mystic Stylez" I rhyme, you slip I "Live by my Rep", don't f** wit' mine "The End", the souls of men They beggin' inside the posse The Prophet, the Posse We all collide, we brew The trap-titute, to end they phase I'm outty And crime reminds Crazed in Last Days Hypno-tize and blazed another gold plate "Sixty-Six, Sixty-One" The smoke cleared, evaporate (Verse 3, Juicy J) I got a three-fifty-seven A Tech wit' a black clip A hundred-eighty pounds Wit' a fist that gon' bust lips Some k**as on my side If I tell 'em, they gon' get A fool violatin' the business he ain't wit' And now in 2000, he talkin' the same sh** And now in 2000, I bust and I won't miss The smoke is in the air The liquor is still a fifth The groupies still rollin' The curls ain't no kick foo (Verse 4, k**a Klan Kaze) The first one of us is done Hollow-tips come by the ton Wit' two AK's and plus a drum To leave these n***a's bodies numb I don't talk this sh** for fun co*k it back and let it go Wit' six shots, from the Three-6 shooters Lettin' 'em know, whoa Picture me, naked-faced to kickin' in yo door Four, n***as deep, bandanas wit' black Calico's So, when we creep, duck Cause I might hit you nine times Take yo nine lives Jump up and hypnotize yo mind Blaow! (Verse 5, Crunchy Black) You can believe this You can believe that And believe I got, a baseball bat And I'm bustin' yo head, black And believe I'm comin' strong And believe I'm all grown And believe, that n***a I love to get it on No half-steppin', I gots the weapon A Boom-Boom! I'm blastin' at'cha I'm out to get'cha, believe that I love to k**, I love the thrill And I love to put a n***a's body parts in the field, n***a! (Verse 6, La Chat) I'm gon' go blastin' to get this b**h Ain't got no time for no sh** Gotta hope my boys don't make no noise Just throw that trick in the ditch Ain't know way La Chat gon' let'cha slide Wit' the sh** that'cha done I got my bruise on what I do To show you folks one-by-one A sheisty b**h, without no punch Just got no love in my heart It ain't no boy that I can't handle Keep that tone in my trunk This ain't no threat, I speak the truth Gotta come too thick to get me I'm warnin' you hoes before you come That that ain't gon' be easy (Verse 7, Koopsta Knicca) Man a b**h'll take that loot Without a p**y for them papers Get the f** away from me, ho! Because the Koop can't stand the vapors Take her, break her, to whoop that funky b**h Talkin' that sh** about this man You gets yo chest up in yo arm, b**h Yeaah, we can do it Take yo time, do it right You can give me the f**in' chew And I could f** ya all night Wanna fight about'cho friends See how that be, just don't start See now that's that type of sh** That get my muh'f**in dick hard (Verse 8, T-Rock) Gather the Mac-11's and load 'em full of ammunition Terrorist sets, we pull him like I'm in the Expedition All seven n***as, got guns equivelent to what we pack Nuclear pistols, and fire-scorchin' automatic Gats How in the f** can you handle the Busted amateur Toss the b**h over the banister Like trash canisters Hollow-points into yo gathered troops When I have to shoot Plus I be storin' the calf of you And drinkin' Absolute (Verse 9, k**a Klan Kaze) I woke up early Saturday mornin' Cellular phone was ringin' off the charger Thinkin' to myself, man is it a b**h? A cop or, it's them robbers Pardon Mr. Mac, off in the scheme I'm stangin' for my dividends And pay a livin', ain't makin no brother My cheese gon' reach the ceiling-fan You can catch me in that burgandy thang On grizzle when you see me You can joke me and provoke me Best believe the bleedin' is ig'nant f** the reason and the treason When time to get dirty, n***a bet our prophet You was gaspin' for yo last breath All I heard was k**a Klan Kaze (Verse 10, DJ Paul) These b**hes think we playin' Think this k**a sh** a joke Come f** around wit' HCP And get'cho a** smoked, ho Comin' wit' some fully-auto's f** some semi's Hit him wit' some hollow-auto's Cause I despis-ise Blast 'em like some ralo bate's For y'all mayates Equipped wit' double clips and duct-tape And wicked wiz-ays And I prefer it keep me busy in my free-time Caught 'em in the curry, and I'm knowin' they wanna re-wind Give you second thoughts about that business you didn't finish, right? Took you to the vault, cash it in, all-night flight And I'm in a bad mood Cocaine make it that Plus I got east holder Nine-mili willy, n***a I slang wit' that (DJ Paul) b**h! n***a, HCP n***a, HCP Hypnotize Camp Posse, n***a What! What! HCP, n***a HCP, Hypnotize Camp Posse

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