MR. 3-2 - Get Back lyrics

(feat. Lil' Keke, Cro$$)

[Hook: x2]

I ain't the one nigga, you better run nigga

Or get your gun nigga, 'fore you get done nigga

So get back (get back), so get back (get back)

I'm a gangsta for real, I don't play like that

[Lil' Keke:]

I'm bout two seconds off that ass, and kicking it fast

I'm really not the one bitch, don't make me blast

You better run homie, and get your gun homie

I'm like T.I. my nigga, cause really they don't know me

Shoot for nothing, and shed blood for less

Put a hole in your back, through the front of your chest

This a war zone, the beef never gone

I got niggaz taking flight, like a fresh pair of J's on

Get it twisted, shots won't miss it

Fall in the mix, if it's broke I'll fix it

Gangsta for real, don't play like that

That's why the seat way back, on a new Maybach

This is Southside S.U.C., to the finish

Underground kings, we'll never diminish

Better run fool, this is old school

And I'll never leave home, without my own tool

[Hook x2]

[Mr. 3-2:]

Quick to touch ya, bum rush ya then cut ya

Fuck off your whole structure, hollow tips bust ya

Get your gun nigga, I ain't the one nigga

You get done nigga, mob boss won nigga

Gangsta for real, no story telling the lies

I got some'ing in the chamber, to get rid of these guys

Exercise my right to fight, and sweat it off

Cause these niggaz ain't got no nuts, and way too soft

Big Boss, that call the shots in front of the table

These marks ain't got no stripes, and really ain't stable

I'm able, to hold position lead my troops

Send out a hit, and make my trigger man shoot

My roots, all trace back to Don G's

Killers for scrilla, bet erase enemies

Keke and G-O-V, ain't the ones

To be playing with, when our hands on a gun

[Hook x2]

[Cro$$:]

I step out the house, black on black gat in my nut sack

Toe tags, ready to put bodies in trash bags

A mad man, niggaz out here telling

I'm gut swelling boys up, with slugs to the belly

And melon three time felon, close bailing

Boys yelling my name, now the glock's to the brain

Insane, a hungry motherfucker ain't ashamed

To spit out names, like crabs that be snitching in the game

And to mention crab man, your daughter's off the chain

Yeah I'm shooting slugs at you, but my nuts hang

Down to the flo', I step up in the club and don't pay shit at the do'

Yeah nigga, you's a hoe

And the rest of them niggaz, that was snitching like some bitches

Y'all some cake ass niggaz, Cro$$ said that nigga

Fuck it, ain't nobody else gon tell it like it is black

And by the way I got my own back, it's right here in my lap

[Hook x2]