Mr. 3-2 - Fire Lyrics
Get the lyrics to the song: Fire by Mr. 3-2 at LyricsKeeper.com.
Fire
Fire Lyrics |
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What Are The Lyrics For Fire By Mr. 3-2?
On the block pack a gat, watch your back boy
Cause you know that's hot, and them haters Do your thang and come on home, cause you know That I'm waiting, with that fire 5 in the morning, ain't no yawning ain't no time for sleeping I'm still working the block, the block still bleeding I'm still toting a glock, cause niggaz be scheming I still want what you got, until then I ain't leaving Battle scarred and hard headed, off of the streets Was brought up in the hustle, the game supported me Day to day grinding, gotta make sure we eat Gotta make sure, we can step out on the block and be seen Trying to let all them fiends know, I'm back on the scene Got them power packs ready, Scottie throw down a beam Undercover snitch niggaz, trying to break my dream up Baby girl home alone, waiting for me to show up Plus this morning, she told me she woke up throwing up And I wanna lay, all I'm thinking bout is paper It might be real early, in the morning when I come home But best believe I'm coming home, pockets full of do' Gonna hop up on niggaz, like quizzes in class Sensei shife niggaz, and chizzle they masks I ain't your hammer jamming, but I'm packing a glass When I hit you I'ma split you, like that crack in your ass Got elbows of weed, I'm bagging my grass I got weight niggaz, think I need to take out the trash 4 flipping in the dash, one under the seat Worm just laid the track, to what I done to the beat Wet niggaz up everywhere, but under the feet Plus I rock-a-bye niggaz, put 'em under a sheet I'm trying to get freaky tonight, I'm in the mood For a baby-faced girl, with a big girl mule Jeans on the couch, underwear in the pool Closer boys keep girls, square in the nude A layer, the Earth's my turf so I'm a grown When I'm finished with these streets, I'm gone into hiding Pull it all night, as on the block stacking bread Ducking police, and I'm stacking big heads Never letting it go FED, while I grind it out Shooting dice on my knees, making boys drop out Got it popped at the spot, and a twat that's wide I dig up between thighs, when they qualified Naked showing hide, cotton up six figgas Day for day on the block, watching thangs get bigger Build an empire, the boss of the street game Stack it up real pretty, I'm sicking all my change Fame is a trip, people can back stab you Gotta watch your back, cause somebody could grab you Stay on no cases, and counting the big faces They'll be working for your vote, in all kinda places The glock stay crunk, and lit up at all times But it make it heavy, that's why I'm getting mine |
Who Wrote Fire By Mr. 3-2?
Eddie Cooley, John Davenport
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