| Ahh yeah, the Prophet Posse in this motherfucker
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| For all you dick eaters, and all you dick beaters
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| For the Nine Triple Six, we reunited motherfucker
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| We finna do this shit like this…
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| Niggas be talkin’shit, bout, bout, bout, bout, bout, whoever they don’t
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| like
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| Niggas be talkin’shit, bout whoever they don’t like
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| Man them haters in the club, got us fucked up, fucked up Woke up early Tuesday mornin', down with the Prophet and the City
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| They got a spot on track for Blac, so I got to bump this bitch
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| Straight from the hood, where nothin’but crosses get thrown up at yo ass
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| But Gangsta Blac, gone kick the past, a Prophet bringin’in the cash
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| You got some gooder, I think you uhh, should send it by the Bird
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| If ain’t bad work, then my nigga, bitch shit, we shoot it to the curve
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| I’m bout my Prophet, all my niggas they be knowin’the score
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| From SPV, this Gangsta B., and Prophet got plenty more
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| I’m up drivin’in the eye of a Volcano
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| On to oceans made of Lava, readin’goggles
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| Faced with Kamakazie, women thinks that I’m bizarre
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| Happy when you reach you was bloody
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| In Mystical in the Mystic Dark
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| Water chargin’bitin’the fishes gray shark
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| Tapin’bones around my wrist
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| In front of the fire place
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| Soakin’in the my Polo kerosene
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| While smokin’a blunt of hay
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| Twisted blade, reachin’killers
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| Edge’in children on the scene
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| Scarecrow lookin’in a mirror that don’t give a image
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| Now pimpin’as a Mack, I’m breakin’bitches for my dividends
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| Don’t show no slack, I’m MC Mack, so buster bitches watch yo back
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| We creepin’in comin', in bumin', breakin’ya off some proper
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| Deliverin’in killin', mackin’preparin’ya for the slaughter
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| The Triple Six, Killa Klan, Prophet Entertainment, bout comin’up
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| Chargin’bitches, for riches, so hoe type nigga, don’t test yo nuts
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| Hierbone, with the D around my neck
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| Got’cha in a sweat, no fessin', just messin', my mother fuckin’pimpin'
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| So bitch lets go cash yo check
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| It was a night of a Devils pledge, strictly bout my brother whippin'
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| They bled, the holy red, I lived and popped 'em in shreds
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| The millions I made 'em I caught 'em slippin’I rushed 'em quick
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| With Glocks and chest pop drop them bitches in the restin’places
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| Killa Klan Sinters, Even though we Ministers, Prophet Entertainment
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| Breakin’tricks with no lovin’her
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| Scan fuckin’Man, with them demons craved in the soul
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| But you still don’t hear me though, so you bitches be my hoes
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| Heres the blast, why did you look into that mask
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| Ballin’up early, let me finish up our task
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| The dirty work, but dirty work
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| There is no ask, in questions
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| Teachin’lessons, bout a bullets I be stressin'
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| My mind is kind of out there high in the sky
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| I’ma finna go in kill my alli-by, alli-by
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| No reason why he wonder, how he might just tell a lie
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| Lookin’down on ya by a Prophet bitch
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| Crunchy Blac dig ya grave for ya Prophet
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| To all you wonabees, fake tradin’wonabees
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| I’m not gonna leave, 'til I found the mother fuckin’ki’s
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| Just walked into yo house, wrap some tape, 'round his Momma mouth
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| Put the chrome tec, in her face, incase she wanna shout
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| If I hear the Five-O comin', I’ma break in run
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| But I’ma gonna get that fuckin’cheese before a nigga done
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| All About them Prophets, Three Six Mafia, yeah we in the game
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| Ridin’nothin’but clean ass Lexus, and Suburban thangs
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| Keepin’all Anna down, haters man I gotta dodge
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| Stayin’out the eyes of you folks, cause you full of flock
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| Plain as day, quick to say the Three Six ain’t no child’s play
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| Fuckin’with that Junky Fella, pluckin’on that twelve plate
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| Prophet Posse, reunited, man these hoes hatin’it
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| All about a meal ticket, local on this killin’shit
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| Feelin shit, heres a bitch, another hit ya Fist up with the Renzo click, Glock tottin’Mad Dog
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| Goppin’down Three Six, Mafia, Mafia
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| My temperature I stand is boilin’hot
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| If you disrespect you drop, my mind is on that level
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| So you know I’m packin’glocks, so watch my finger
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| I bring a, hoe bout to that Anna, don’t squeeze her
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| Get out yo fuckin’Beamer, this is a jack, and don’t be reachin’for yo strap
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| Cause I’m will comnesed to blast, in harass, in then dash in Back to that Mask Vile, get in all my Prophets, cause its on, and |
| So I’m real
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| A lot of motherfuckers, wanna know where my heart is So I fold 'em in break 'em
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| With ten seconds on my gat, you see a G can regulate
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| From the shoulder flex, with my hands, I can cause death
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| I snap in break yo mother fuckin’neck
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| Now wake him up, so he can smell the coffee
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| Better yet this far, you ain’t hard
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| Make ya so-scared, cause ya bared
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| One thing I was taught, you taught, gotta walk
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| But don’t get caught in the mist of the Prophets
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| In the beams y’all
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| Y’all niggas ain’t no killers, to many Prophets be on my chest
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| Havin’me stressed, suicidal thoughts, I was up every night
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| I never rest, to many groupies, claimin’they straight
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| Hangin’around me, knowin’they haters
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| I ain’t never been through what I been through
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| I dare you, fuck you pimp-a-traders
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| Skinny Pimp I’m on Anna, and I’m a grown ass man
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| Feedin’my Momma, beatin’my Father
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| You think that I’m playin'? |
| I’m strictly sprayin'
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| Out this game, from my year
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| Knowin’I’m real, because I’m steel
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| O-G-P, A-M-P, must not come out stackin’little’s
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| I’m so trill, so I live, do these busters know how I feel?
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| When you smile I see you frown
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| I’m Bout It, Bout It, leavin’you drown and will
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| You try to explain, when you know you been crossed
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| So I’ma let the AK talk, like when a buster talk, South Memphis
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| Nigga what’cha fought? |
| You scared to start a riot, keep that quiet
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| While I shout, I’m bout that paper player no doubt
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| When I run my mouth, just set me out
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| Give me some?, Give me some?
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| Where I’m from? |
| Memphis area
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| Serious about them Prophets how the fuck you think we fake nigga
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| This Skinny Pimp
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| Triple Six Mafia!
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| Triple Triple Six Mafia |