MR. 3-2 - Heat Packers lyrics

(feat. Beezo, Mr. 3-2, Pup)

Heat packer...

[Mr. 3-2:]

When I clap that cannon, niggaz fall down dead

Killer gorilla, for the bread I ain't scared

Get ahead, whatever it take to get over

Two 2-3's, knocking heads off niggaz shoulders

I told ya, now it's too late to plea bargain

No organ, pistol up and I'm mobbing

Squabbing, box in the street with no shoes

Slapping fools, use a mark like a tattoo

Drama ain't shit, but a five letter word

Boys get curred, and fucked off for the birds

I know you heard, we ain't scared of no jackers

Down in H-Town, the home of the heat packers

[Hook: x2]

Heat packers, kidnappers and thugs

Fried out sipping mud, and jacking for drugs

Cock back the hammer, and empty the whole clip

Niggaz ain't bout shit, so ride or get hit

[Beezo:]

It spun, the heat packers are moving the packs

A package is falsing for real, selling illigitmate deal

Far from being, some of that fake shit that you spill

All that kill em up bang-bang, dope sale that you claim

I don't claim to be, nothing I'm not to be

The apple don't fall far from the tree, I know my family tree you feeling me

Killers and drug dealers, thug niggaz my fam to be

And tell that you visit your fam, from the gutter they rose up

Tried to better me growing up, raised right by my team

The streets ripped me to be, a heat packing MC

Push and it came, blowing on trees riding on 3's

Me and that nigga 3, kicking that S.G.

[Hook x2]

[Pup:]

Motherfucker I'm a heat packer, with jacking deleting jackers

No problem with busting my pistol, you niggaz got it backwards

I'm a soldier, Ridgemont veteran quick to fold ya

I told ya, for 2005 the game's over

I don't know ya, so what I'ma box you fo'

See I ain't got time to play with you bitch, I'ma pop you hoe

So when you see me in the streets, don't try to flag me down

Them be the same bitch niggaz, that try to drag me down

I ain't no rookie nigga, you better ask around

I put-p-put on that mask, and come and blast your town

I'm packing heat, and got four or five niggaz packing it with me

Artillery, nobody packing rounds under fifty

You fellas wanna get with me, come prepared then nigga

Cause I'm going all out, if I gotta stab me a nigga

But my pistol and my choppers, usually right on my side

With my finger on the trigger, and I'm ready to ride cause we some

[Hook x2]